The first of the Super Tuesdays draws near. So as to not further confuse a nation which has clearly suffered major head trauma (more on that later), this one-day delegate bonanza is lovingly referred to as the SEC primary, for the predominance of NCAA Southeastern Conference states participating. All polling would indicate that PT Bullshit himself is set for a smashing victory (for professional satirists... and smashing defeat for republicanism and the American way). We concede that this slew of victories will, quite regrettably, produce a significant chunk of delegates for his nomination at the GOP convention in July.
If we are correct in predicting a red-letter day for toupee makers everywhere, it bears asking: how? Really and truly, how is this happening? The lamestream media has any number of theories about populist rage, latent lingering racism, and a new 'Silent Majority' ready to elect a man even more stunningly criminal and incompetent than 'They Can't Lick Our Dick' Nixon.
We reject such explanations as the babbling incoherence of an intelligentsia attempting to continue life as normal by engaging in their primary societal function: rationalisation of that which plainly cannot be rationalised. That which can be rationalised can be projected onto PowerPoints for unconsenting audiences, shopped around by legions of lobbyists, and discussed ad nauseum by the thousands of twenty-something staffers in Washington who labour under the delusion that they're living in one of the good seasons of House of Cards. Rationalisation of the utterly bizarre voting patterns of the American public keeps a well-lubricated machine of misinformation (and, in turn, an endless supply of well-lubricated interns) moving across the desks of the nation's capitol.
'The end of the world may be nigh, but by God we can still message it.'
This last ditch attempt to explain away the end of the world is sweet in its own way, rather like the provision of a plush pillow to one about to feel the sharp thwack of the guillotine. Regrettably, we must cut these theories down to size if we are to prevent more bloodletting.
We reject the Silent Majority theory out of hand, as Donald Trump shows no aversion whatsoever to the makeup which Nixon famously and regrettably spurned before his first televised debate with Kennedy (which, in fairness, might not have made much difference against a man whose level of sexuality could be most aptly described as 'all of it'). We are willing to admit that the populist rage and latent lingering racism bits might be true, but they're also entirely too depressing to be satirised as the explanation for the mass psychotic breakdown currently on show in the American electorate. Instead, we'd like to blame that canard of modern gladiatorial sports: chronic traumatic encephalopathy.
The American voting public has now been exposed for several decades to a brand of political dialogue cum sketch comedy show that, as with all forms of entertainment geared towards the lowest common denominator, is a full-body contact sport. Candidates pack stadiums of rabid supporters, eager to purchase overpriced franchise gear and desperate to stave off creeping existential despair with a dosing of booze and groupthink. The only real difference we can find between this nightmarish political culture and collegiate football is that in this case, it is the fans who purposefully and repetitively bash their heads into the nearest available solid object for no perceptible personal gain. It is no surprise that after so many concussions, voters display symptoms of a disease that wreaks havoc on the nervous system and renders its sufferers' behaviour erratic and dangerous. Sadly, CTE can only be diagnosed via autopsy, so we will likely have to wait until 20 January, 2017 to test the validity of this theory.
For now, allow us to say to the voters of Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Colorado, Georgia, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Texas, Vermont, Virginia, and Wyoming: we understand that you've had a rough go of things. Really, we do - and we sympathise greatly. By all means, succour your pain with ill-fated reality television careers, gold-digging spouses, and/or the production of paint-thinner quality celebrity spirits. But we all know that you're in no condition to engage in complex decision-making or higher-order reasoning, so do try and stay far, far away from sharp objects and voting booths.
