DEBATE REPORT CARD: Bernie Sells Out Castro! Hillary Pleads the Fifth! “The Dig” Wanders the Forest!

DEBATE REPORT CARD: Bernie Sells Out Castro! Hillary Pleads the Fifth! “The Dig” Wanders the Forest!


Before I reveal my debate report card, I first owe you, my loyal readers, an apology.

This Tuesday night, I committed a dereliction of duty. I incorrectly predicted the winners of two of the Super Twosday races.

Granted, Bernie Sanders won Michigan in an earth-shattering upset that nobody else saw coming after his misogynist supporters were energized by Bernie’s literal violence of shushing Hillary and waving his hand threateningly when she was merely trying to explain why we need to overthrow the Iranian government and kill their Mullahs.

Nevertheless, I was so devastated by my failure, by the tarnishing of my otherwise stellar forecasting record, that late last night, as those damned Hawaii returns came in, I gave up all hope and decided to end it all.

After penning a letter to my family, friends, supporters, and Nate Silver, I packed up my rolly suitcase and ran away from home forever to go live in the forest.

This may have seemed like cowardice at the time. In reality, it was a tactical retreat. I forecast that my time away from society would return me to my roots and put me in tune with my soul as a born pundit.

And I was right. My time in the wilderness transformed me.

I trekked to the middle of Prospect Park, where I would be totally isolated from the rest of humanity. I pitched a tent near a lake, across from where they rent out those swan boats, and breathed deep that fresh forest air. This would be my new home, far away from Beltway insiders, from corrupt family court judges, and from cocky young “data” journalists who think their calculators can replace gut instinct.

After writing in my diary (which I hope to publish one day under the working title Carlden) and conducting some primal scream therapy for hours, I grew tired and hungry. I decided to go foraging for sustenance like my ancestors did, so I wandered into the Botanical Garden and feasted upon the nourishing flowers and roots.

When my belly was full I quickly became disoriented in the hot midday Sun. Reality seemed to swirl around, and I was seeing things that weren’t there. It occurs to me now that some of those rare plants I ate may have had hallucinogenic qualities. At the time, though, I bravely attempted to induce Panic Vomiting, which only dehydrated me and heightened the psychotropic effects.

Reality disappeared and I found myself falling endlessly in pitch blackness. Cackling faces circled around me. I recognized some of the faces. Ex-Mrs. Dig was there, wearing some frankly gaudy earrings, probably an expensive gift from a certain show-off. Treasonous elf Rand Paul appeared, his inhuman features even more disturbing than in real life. Nate Silver, the Bernie Bro trolls, KweenTrashWytch✨✨, all of them were there, laughing at me, driving me mad with shame and horror.

I started swimming furiously down towards the bottom of this horrible hole, praying I would get away from my antagonists with my sanity intact. Then I reached it.

I fell, head-first, onto an endless gray landscape beneath a black starry sky. The dirt beneath me was soft and powdery.

My jaw dropped at what happened next: space and senatorial hero John Glenn appeared before me.

“Carl, when I circled the moon in 1964, it wasn’t exactly a smooth ride. It was difficult. I made mistakes. But you bet your bottom dollar I was still better than those darn Cosmonauts.”

“But I’ve fallen so far…” I yelped.

“Goddammit, Dig, you’re still beating the holy hell out of Nate Silver and everyone else. Let me tell you something, during Savings and Loan, I thought I’d give up. Just call it quits. But you know what? A rocket can’t leave the atmosphere without a booster rocket. And I think learning from your mistakes, that’s the best booster rocket there is.”

“You mean it, John?” I asked.

“You’re a straighter shooter than a Saturn V launched at midday to avoid condensation formations.” The heroic astrosenator told me.

“Ground control to Major Dig: your predictions are great and there’s nothing wrong. Commence return to Earth and custody with Colby next week.” He concluded.

“Aye-aye, captain.” I barked.

I came to in the middle of a dog run, covered in feces, where a larger-than-normal-sized labradoodle was licking my face. This would usually petrify me, but I was baptized in ego death. I was no longer Carl, The Super Twosday Failure. I was Carl, The Man Who’s Made A Few Mistakes But Is Still The Best In The Entire World Because Of His Spirit Journey. As I made my way back to my apartment, a smile never left my face. This is our world, Digheads. I will never abandon you again.

Now to Wednesday night’s post-debate report card:

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Death Threats

Feces Colored Suit

Throwing Castro, Ortega Under The Bus

Possible Dementia


Didn’t Meet A Woman Until He Was 32









Senator Sanders gave us more of the same as usual. Seemingly unsatisfied by the mass gaslighting that caused his masses to elect him Kommissar of Michigan, he came to tantrum tonight. Early on, he silenced Hillary, the moderators, and the ladies in the audience:

Bernie sunk to a new low tonight when he sold out longtime friends the Castro Brothers and Daniel Ortega in a panic. However, it wasn’t enough; America will remember that Sanders didn’t properly oppose the freedom fighting Contras of Nicaragua when they counted on his support the most.

Full disclosure here: my father Colonel Dig was work friends with many Contras, and many of them attended the Bloodletting Ceremony my dad held for me at my 13th birthday. My personal life notwithstanding, Bernie’s purism has no room in the rough and tumble world of foreign policy. It’s one thing to claim that it’s always wrong to burn nuns alive when you’re making speeches for the Burlington Council on Naked Poetry. It’s a completely different thing to bring your high-minded idealism to the office of the presidency. Bernie’s childish vision of the world, where it’s somehow never acceptable to machine gun corn farmers, was on full display tonight. NatSec Moms and NATO Dads were turned off by this fool’s ignorance, and they’re already cutting off their Bernie Bro and Sanders Sexpot sons and daughters at college so they can contribute to a possible Wesley Clark or Jim Webb run.

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Spanish Skills

Fetching Sartorial Choice 

Throwing Colin Powell Under The Bus


Plea Deal Chances

Paving The Way For President Jim Webb





Extremely Illegal




Hillary wowed the Univision crowd with her linguistic skills when she declared “Yo said ‘Basta’ to Señor El Trump!” The audience repaid her mastery of the Romance languages by booing a (perfectly reasonable) question about whether she ordered the attack on the Benghazi embassy then watched it via a drone-mounted livecam.

But few people were on Hillary’s side when she was grilled on the e-mail server scandal that threatens to send her to prison before she can even make it to the convention. Hillary gave a rambling, unconvincing response defending her decision to send illegal e-mails to Sid Blumenthal. She even implicated former Secretary of State Colin Powell, clearly signaling to the FBI that she’s willing to name names if it will keep her out of the clink.

When asked point blank if she’ll drop out of the race if she’s indicted for her e-mail crimes, she glibly pled the Fifth, likely under the advice of her attorneys. As a veteran Clinton-watcher, it’s obvious to me that after surviving Whitewater, Lewinsky, Travelgate, Chinagate, Vince Foster’s assassination, and Nannygate, E-mailgate will be the scandal to take down Bill and Hillary at long last.

After FBI agents cuff Hillary and haul her off the stage at the Democratic convention, the nomination is certain to go to a respected war hero like Sen. Jim Webb or Gen. Wesley Clark (or both, on an Army-Navy unity ticket).

Carl “The Dig” Diggler has covered national politics for 30 years, and is the author of “Think-ocracy: The Rise Of The Brainy Congressman”. Got a question for the Dig? E-mail him at or Tweet to @carl_diggler.

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