So come play a presidential debate drinking game! Starting…soon!
Tonight, at 9PM EST, the world will watch in wonder as the final presidential debate of the 2016 election stomps its way across the vestiges of American democracy.
What a time to be alive!
The system’s rigged. Of course it is. Always has been. Always will be. People in power don’t relish sharing control. Gonna put up whatever road blocks they can find.
The wife has begun spinning the conspiracy theory that Trump is a plant. Clinton campaign recruited him years ago. Positioned him to take the fall in our current election. Act the fool. Be so crass and unlikable that Hillary seems benign by comparison.
Nonsense, of course. But it did work out that way. Go Hillary! First woman in the White House! Bill Clinton as first lady! I desperately hope he makes a public appearance wearing Jackie O’s iconic pink Chanel dress.
It would be a magic moment.
“I’d prefer to be called the first lady. The greatest woman I’ve ever known was first lady. It will be an honor to fill the same role.”
The days following the election, which anyone with more than a single brain cell rattling around upstairs realizes will go to Hillary, should be interesting. Crazy shouts, even more poorly considered conspiracy theories.
“The fix is in!”
Rates of self-inflicted gunshots wounds will skyrocket as the dumbest among us arm themselves for the coming rebellion. The problem might solve itself. Death by self-inflicted stupidity, or medical debt so severe it pushes them even deeper into the underclass. Which is where they belong.
Democracy is like the value of money, or the concept of basic human decency. Essentially a willingly shared delusion. It only works when everyone agrees to believe in it. And we’ve been painted into a corner.
A large portion of the population is buying the notion that a halfwit caricature of a evil businessman is being cheated out of his due position.
Another portion, which includes myself, may be forced to admit that democracy is for the birds. Sound in theory, terrifying in practice.
A vote’s like a gun. Totally benign on its own.
But I think we can all agree you shouldn’t hand out loaded rifles to humans too stupid to guess which end the bullet comes from.
Feel free to join me in my Presidential Debate drinking game.
I’ll be taking a shot each time Trump says the game is rigged. Each time he calls Bill Clinton a rapist. Each time he interrupts with nonsensical platitudes.
I’ll probably end up dead.
But, you know, if this is just a taste of what’s to come, fuck… I might be better off.