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Chapter Fourteen – Two debates with astonishing results

A DISCLAIMER: This bit on the VP debate was written before the actual debate took place and therefore has no relation to what actually happened on Thursday night and is not an interpretation of the real debate - it is satire, nothing more.

The first Presidential debate in Mississippi was disappointing to the McCain campaign. John could have been better, but still bested Obama. Honestly, the margin wasn’t great but the MSM reported the results as an Obama win. All of the networks reported that Obama came across as more “presidential” than John and quoted their polls that agreed. The staff was also unhappy with the MSM poll results as they were slanted to show that Obama won as well. It looked like if Obama was still standing at the end of a debate, he would be declared the winner. It would take a “knockout” for John to win a debate.

The VP debate was heldon Thursday, October 2 at Washington University in St. Louis.

The showdown between Joe Biden and Sarah Palin put Gwen Ifill before the biggest TV audience of her life. Ifill, moderator of PBS' "Washington Week" and senior correspondent on "The NewsHour," is repeating her role from the 2004 debate between Dick Cheney and John Edwards. Ifill was a rabid Obama supporter, but would have to remain neutral in this environment.

The debate was divided into 8 ten-minute issue segments; Ifill introduced each segment with an issue on which each candidate commented. Time was reserved for closing statements by each of the candidates in each debate.

Gwen Ifill took center stage and introduced herself, then called for the candidates to join her. Biden met Sarah at mid-stage and greeted her warmly. Taking her hand in both of his and smiling broadly, he acted like he was greeting a long lost love. He was doing his best to be charming – to put her at ease (so she’d let her guard down).

Fat chance. Sarah (wearing her dork glasses) could see past the façade and into Joe’s innermost self and she found the same Joe she’d seen at the Market, but now with more facts and figures stuffed into his pea-sized brain. In a flash, she knew everything he knew. She almost (almost) felt sorry for him. He was like a lamb being led to slaughter and blissfully, almost happily, unaware of what was in store.

She’d have to be careful not to be too overwhelming; else some would think that there was skullduggery afoot.

They were standing behind lecterns, according to the rules negotiated by the campaigns. Appropriately, Biden was on the left, Sarah on the right.

After the applause died down, Gwen explained the format, the topics, and how the candidates would respond to questions. She started in.

“The first topic is the economy.”

“First question … the media is filled with troubling news about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, what is your take on why they failed?” “We’ll go first to Senator Biden … Senator …”

“Gwen I sat in the cornbread and dreamed of fannie mae and kung pao and freddie mac slipped a rubber tree into his levis ‘cause my feet were on right and chili did the soup dog blah blah muddy son of a stoop with yogurt melting between her pinky toes in the winter nudge nudge and I belched a chihuahua and tinkled all over the chessboard next on the hickey farm was biomass flank steaks but without lipstick so she raised the dill pickle and knocked up a dust bunny so I cant get no satisfaction do wop do wop.”

“Thank you, Senator, now for Governor Palin.” Gwen shook her head and hoped Senator Biden made more sense to others than he did to her – one hundred one words and nothing but pure gibberish.

Sarah began, “Fannie and Freddie were both the victims of mistakes by the democrats. President Bush and the Republicans tried to pass regulatory overhaul in 2003 and John McCain warned of problems in 2006.”

“The plan was an acknowledgment that oversight of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac was broken. A report by outside investigators in July had concluded that Freddie Mac manipulated its accounting to mislead investors, and Fannie Mae did not adequately hedge against rising interest rates. But the plan was opposed by democrats and failed to pass – that was the democrat’s first mistake.”

“The second was when democrats pressured the two agencies to loosen restrictions on loans to disadvantaged borrowers in order to increase home ownership by the poor. Normal credit requirements by mortgage lenders were relaxed which allowed un-credit-worthy borrowers to buy houses. These two political positions taken by democrats going all the way back to the Clinton administration were at the root of the agencies’ collapse.”

“Thank you, Governor.”

“Now, let’s talk about healthcare, the first question goes to Governor Palin.” “Governor, how would you approach the problem of 40 million people in the U.S. without any healthcare”?

Sarah began, “Health-care costs in this country have risen from 5% of national productivity 50 years ago to 16% now, and it's just going to get worse as baby boomers hit retirement age over the next few years. Employers are increasingly unwilling to eat the bill. General Motors says that it already has about $1,400 in medical costs priced into every vehicle. And most families can't do it on their own.

We need to create more choice. Medicare now covers about 40 million seniors, gets high marks for customer satisfaction and whips the private sector on efficiency. Allow individuals to choose either a private insurer or Medicare in a competitive marketplace. And require employers to either provide benefits through a company-negotiated private health plan or, in lieu of that, pay a 6% tax on payroll.

Small companies will balk at that 6% payroll tax. But Hacker says employers or individuals already spend at least that much, often for inadequate care, in the present system.”

“Time’s up, Governor,” Gwen interrupted. She turned to Senator Biden, “it’s your turn Senator.”

“Thank you Gwen, as you know, I rested my brisket on a wrinkled foot smelling of lard and onions so we know who swinged up a tiny polecat yada yada and who saw wadded tube socks in the dark crevice she had me in a lace teddy and a hey nonnie nonnie whipped a herd of earthworms and swung a sour pineapple but brought one-kneed fannie to her sore buns and rode a fat lizard right in the face of two dudlies and we buttered yokes out back freely and put two dingbats and dinged two putbacks yada yada while freddie lifted up fo-monks and said behold a pale otter blah blah right out of constipation and into our hearts while the nurses stacked pea soup so him rained down like beans and the righteous peed a mighty stream.”

“And … … your time is up, Senator.” Shaking her head – again, “what did he say,” she thought? 

The rest of the “debate” went along in a similar fashion – Sarah answering succinctly and logically, Biden might as well have been speaking “in tongues.” He just droned on and on saying nothing of substance – indeed, nothing that even made sense.
 
They parted amiably, the McCain group elated over the Palin massacre and the complete meltdown by Senator Biden. She mopped up the stage with him. Gwen Ifill even apologized to Sarah, saying she didn’t think that he was well and he may have had an aneurism episode resulting in the seemingly unrelated words he strung together.
 
Imagine their surprise when the New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Washington Post and NBC, ABC, and CBS TV networks extolled the great win by Senator Biden. They went on and on about how inept Sarah’s answers were and how much more nuanced and carefully thought-out Senator Biden’s responses were. What debate were they watching?
 
The polls conducted by those same entities showed similar results: Biden was thought to be the winner by fifty-four percent, thirty-one percent thought Palin won and fifteen percent thought pepperoni and mushrooms had won.
 
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Chapter Fifteen – Obama and Britney consult with one another

It was Friday, the day after the Vice Presidential debate. The McCain campaign was seething over the spin by the MSM and the slanted polls that purported to show that Biden had won. John was fed up – he had tried to run an honorable campaign and even passed up opportunities to hit Obama hard if he felt that the subject could be perceived as negative. No more – now the gloves were off.
 
John, Sarah, and the staff boarded the “Straight Talk Express” for a short ride to Chicago where two days of events were scheduled. A new, more aggressive attack plan was devised. John had always been the one pushing for moderation – the staff had always wanted more hard-hitting ads, they wanted to hit Obama where it hurt. They were elated to be “set free” to get after the empty suit that was Obama.
 
They were in the final stretch run, barely a month to go ‘till the election. Wisely, the staff had gone easy on spending in September so they would be prepared for an all-out push in October leading up to election day – they had hard-hitting material available, they had the money necessary to swamp the airwaves, and now, they had the go-ahead from the big guy, they would be ready.
 
They started laying out the material. They had the Reverend Wright sermons, they had new information linking Obama more closely with Ayers. Rezko was now cooperating with authorities and spilling Obama’s (soon to be baked) beans all over the place. There were the phone conversations with Emil Jones. They had phone records showing calls both ways between Obama, Britney, and Paris.
 
And now, with the Fannie/Freddie bailout, it was easy to show that Obama couldn’t possibly do all that he’d promised, there simply wouldn’t be enough money – unless he dramatically raised taxes even more. And his actions during the bailout voting showed a glaring lack of leadership, and instead showed him running for cover at the first sign of trouble.
 
And then, the first shoe dropped.
 
Senator Emil Jones resigned from the Illinois Senate Friday morning. He also entered into a plea-bargain deal which provided authorities with documentation showing (among other things) that Obama didn’t author those bills he so proudly touted as his major accomplishments. He had admissible audio tapes where Obama can be heard making deals to earmark grant money in exchange for campaign contributions, and where Obama was railing against the white “slavemasters.”
 
The staff coined a new phrase: “3E.” That was short for being in “excrement of extensive extent” which is where Obama now found himself (it was more commonly known as deep doo-doo). Obama was said to have achieved “3E.”
 
It would take a couple of days to prepare the new ads. Then, they’ll explode on the scene, running in all of the battleground markets, running over and over; pounding home the theme that Obama is not what he seems. Exposing him as a novice in all aspects of governing, a socialist, an run-of-the-mill everyday Chicago politician, a lying panderer and a man without any internal compass – he merely said and did what her was told by his “handlers.”
 
The target date for the start of “The Siege” was next Wednesday, the day after the next debate. It would coincide with another group of ads portraying John and his achievements, his judgment, his character – all of his positive personal traits – the new campaign would truly be a double-barreled attack.
 
A debate prep meeting between the two participant groups was scheduled for Friday afternoon with the top Obama staffers and Obama himself expected to attend – but, it was abruptly rescheduled. It seems that the Emil Jones resignation and release of damaging documentation had thrown the Obama campaign staff into extreme panic mode. It should be noted that what they were afraid of was the truth. Since the debate was only a few days away, they agreed to a very brief meeting Saturday morning.
 
This was the first time that Sarah would meet Obama. She was looking forward to seeing the “inner” Obama. She wasn’t sure what to expect – maybe he’d be so squeaky-clean that he’d bewitch her with his charm – we’ll soon see.
 
They met at the Ritz-Carlton, a five-star hotel at the Water Tower in downtown Chicago. Obama’s group got there late and arranged themselves around a large conference table. And then “His Holiness” entered. Sarah (via her dorky glasses) got a real good look into Barack Hussein Obama.
 
What she saw was troubling.
 
Beneath that smiling exterior, he was a walking, talking, counterfeit twenty-dollar bill. On the surface, he looked good and people took that exterior façade as the real thing, they accepted it. But below the surface, he was worth less than the paper the bogus bill was printed on. As in any good counterfeit, the discrepancies weren’t easily detected by the casual observer, and the majority of his supporters were lulled into a blind faith that he was all they thought him to be.
 
There was no moral compass to tell right from wrong – right or wrong just didn’t matter. He was devoid of conscience. He cared naught for friends, except for what they could do for him – he had no religion, feared no God - not even Mohammad. Promises he made meant nothing, and underlying it all was a dark undercurrent of some flavor of corruption that Sarah couldn’t identify. Sarah didn’t know what to make of that part.
 
Wait a minute … what was this … something in his ear? It was a cochlear implant in his left ear canal. Having no record of hearing loss, Sarah looked a little deeper and found that it was a receiver picking up information sent from some unknown source. That could make for an interesting development if she knew the frequency it was receiving.
 
Wow, what a piece of work he was.
 
Sarah didn’t see any evidence that Michelle had confronted him about the taped poker comments yet, but she did see a conversation that Obama had with Britney last night – arranging an appointment for a “consultation.” What Sarah gathered from her look inside Obama really worried her – an enemy with no sense of fair play, who would not play by any rules. He would do and say anything to win – period.
 
The negotiations covering a few debate details were concluded quickly and the meeting broke up. Sarah was glad to get away from him.
 
The rest of Saturday was non-eventful, a fund raiser lunch and a rally in late afternoon. Both went well and the excitement level was high.
 
That evening, Sarah begged off from dinner with John and the staff, using the excuse of catching up on her e-mails and calling Todd and the kids. She quickly finished her “duties,” and slipped into her snappy, red, white, and blue frock. She had a date - a “ménage â trios” with Obama and Britney at the Essex Inn.
 
These liaison things were always tricky for the secret service. They frowned on doing it, but had little choice – their job was to protect, not be the conscience of the candidate – and, they kept their mouths shut.
 
Mighty Mom could identify six agents, there could be more. They’d be everywhere except in the room. And, Britney had two body guards of her own – it looked like a “Soldier of Fortune” convention outside of room 612 with four burly men milling about. Agents also required that 610 and 614 remained vacant on either side of the “consultation” room. It wasn’t necessary to catch Barry and Britney in “mid-deed,” it was only necessary to have pictures providing irrefutable evidence of them being together in a hotel room – let everyone’s imagination do the rest.
 
But how?
 
Maybe the best plan would be to alert the paparazzi and give them the room number. That could create enough of a diversion to let MM take care of a couple of the guards. That’s the ticket.
 
MM called the Chicago Observer and told them of the tryst and was able to describe the black Suburbans (complete with license plate numbers), Britney’s body guards, and a few other items so that the Observer staff felt that it was a good tip. They’d have to get past the lobby agents and such, but that was their business - they were sneaky. They would simply check into the hotel, and as guests they were authorized to be anywhere in the hotel.
 
The tabloid sent Jack Haas and Jean Poole, a middle-aged couple masquerading as man and wife. They did a masterful job of (seeming) to argue over what floor their room should be on – “no higher than the sixth floor,” “close to the stairwell,” etc. until they were finally rewarded with room 626, at the end of the sixth floor hall.
 
They secreted their camera equipment under outer clothing and slowly walked down the sixth-floor hall from the elevator towards room 612. Mighty Mom was hidden in the elevator and peeked out far enough to look “into” the two agents. She quickly determined which agent had the room card for 612. He would be her target. She could take care of the two agents. She needed to get the other two body guards away from the door.
 
In their room for only fifteen or twenty minutes, Jean faked a seizure and Jack ran screaming into the hall, “help, help, my wife is having a seizure, please help”! The agents could not move from the door so they sent Britney’s body guards to assist. In a flash, MM was on the two agents. A quick Vulcan neck pinch to each agent and they dropped like rocks. She retrieved the entry card and slipped it into the slot – green light. She whistled and Jack ran out of the room, opened 612 and shot fifteen or twenty auto-wind pictures and headed for the elevator. He got in with Mighty Mom and she pinched him – thud, to the floor he went. Quickly, she changed back to normal clothes and as he was coming around, she helped him up. “What happened to you”? “I don’t know, a Superman-looking woman with a cape and a snappy, red, white, and blue frock knocked me out.” Sarah asked slowly, “Have you been drinking, sir”?
 
In the meantime, the agents regained consciousness. By this time, Obama and Britney were raising hell and screaming at the agents and body guards. Half-dressed and cussing like drunken sailors, they called the four men everything in the Dictionary of Profanity, and made up a few new expletives as well. But the deed was done. MM returned to her hotel and knew that she had just about finished off Barack Hussein Obama’s chance at the Presidency.
 
As she slipped off into dreamland, a name Lorena Bobbitt popped into her head – she didn’t know why - Lorena Bobbitt – there it was again. Then she realized why that particular name popped into her head. Michelle might be that unhappy when she found out what Barry had been doing that night. She wouldn’t want to be in Barry’s shoes.
 
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Chapter Sixteen – the other shoe, the election, and the moose returns

The Chicago Observer printed an extra 100,000 copies of the latest issue (their usual print run was only about 100,000). The pictures Jack Haas had taken were explicit – too explicit to print without blurred areas – he had caught them in mid-deed, as it were, and only a couple of pictures could be printed, even with blurries. By the end of the day, the Observer had completely sold out and was preparing to print another 100,000 copies for tomorrow. Accesses to their website crashed the servers and the phones were ringing off the hook.
 
KA BOOM was the sound of the other shoe dropping.

It was everywhere – literally everywhere. All of the networks, all of the cable shows, all of the bloggers, all of everybody was talking about the Barack and Britney “interaction.” Prosecution was threatened, lawsuits were promised, and there were even death threats, in short – pandemonium ensued.
 
John McCain sported a wide, semi-permanent grin all the next day. He knew that somebody “up there” had smiled on him (little did he know that it was Mighty Mom who had “arranged” his good fortune). He and Sarah would undoubtedly be sworn in on January 20, the election was a formality now.
 
The final Presidential debates came and went. They were non-entities. Obama was deadpan and emotionless, he knew the jig was up and he had no chance. McCain was happy, smiling and sharp – Obama was listless and made dozens of gaffs – his heart was no longer in it.
 
Mojo and Britney had done him in. All of the other material that appeared in McCain’s ads was “icing on the cake” as it added to the reasons for voters to drop Obama and either vote the McCain/Palin ticket or not vote at all.
 
Election night, as the returns started coming in, it soon became obvious that a landslide was working its way across the country. Even New York went for McCain – that was an indication that Obama was unlikely to win any state. It was all over by 11 PM Eastern, McCain was going to win every state’s electoral votes. The victory celebrations were everywhere. Even the MSM had to admit defeat – and they did so grudgingly. Their anointed choice had lost and they didn’t know why. It had to be race. They never did accept that most folks voting against Obama did so for reasons other than race – their ego wouldn’t accept that – it had to be those awful racists. Even with the Obama “tapes” from Emil Jones and the Observer pictures of he and Britney familiarizing themselves with one another, those were just “static,” the real reason was racist. They’d go to their graves thinking that.
 
Sarah finally turned in at almost 2 AM, worn out and a little tipsy (she’d had several glasses of champagne).
 
As she dozed off, a deep familiar voice awakened her. “Sarah,” she turned over but didn’t awaken. “Sarah,” it sounded like James Earl Jones calling her name – again. Then, she awakened with a start and realized it was the moose again.
 
There he was, her giant pure white moose. She was transfixed – the white moose was glowing, shimmering, like a flickering candle flame. “Cama-I, Sarah.” “Hello moose.” “You have done well.” “Thank you.” Again, the James Earl Jones voice: “no one will ever know that you have prevented the dark son from gaining control. You have done the world a great service and the earth spirits are pleased.” Sarah was at peace with the idea that no one would ever know what really happened.
 
“So Mighty Mom is no more”? “She is no more, Sarah.” Sarah felt like she was losing a dear friend, a sister, and she was sad – a tear welled up. “Do not be sad, Sarah,” the moose reassured her, “what you have done is recorded in the Book of Deeds and will be known forevermore to the earth spirits.” “You will be honored.” “To repay you for your great deeds, you will receive gifts.” The moose placed a handful of tickets on the nightstand.
 

A four day/three night stay at the Pair-a-dice motel in Clearwater, FL, a year’s worth of All-tempa-Cheer, a month pass at the Starbucks of your choice, and, a T-shirt emblazoned with “I wuz Mighty Mom for a month and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.

 

“Thank you and enjoy your gifts.” The moose shimmered, blurred, and ‘pop’ he was gone.
 
The End
 
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