DEBATE REPORT CARD: Kasich Enthralls! Donald Goes There! Marco Demands His Trump U. Tuition Back!

DEBATE REPORT CARD: Kasich Enthralls! Donald Goes There! Marco Demands His Trump U. Tuition Back!

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Hello, Detroit Rock City! While Flint city officials are urging residents not to drink their water, the GOP establishment is telling voters to steer clear of the Trump Kool-Aid. Meanwhile, Kasich is battling Rubio and possibly Romney for a possible super PAC nod, all while the specter of March 15 “winner take all” contests loom!

Let’s get into how the candidates fared:

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Genitalia Defense

Girth

Weight

Undercarriage

Pubic Spread

Sitting Length

FINAL GRADE

A+

C

B+

B

A

B-

C-

It’s a testament to how silly this campaign has become that serious journalists like me have to talk about Donald Trump’s genitals. I’m sick and tired of this sort of seedy bedroom politics. Who cares if Trump’s penis is 6 inches, 8 inches, 9 inches, whatever? Heck, it could be 10.5 inches for all I care. And I don’t. And do we really need to have a discussion about Trump’s girth? I mean, for God’s sakes, this is the Presidency we’re talking about. The commander-in-chief of the free world. His girth could be that of a Coke can, or one of those 22 oz. tallboys, or most likely one of those English 22 oz. tallboys, those are a few quarter inches larger in circumference and probably more precise when comparing them to the subject matter here.

So let’s get back to the real issues, like whether Trump flip-flopped on the size of his wall. I’m far more concerned about whether the wall will be 30 feet or 55 feet than I am about whether Trump’s penis is 10.5 inches or a little smaller like 10 inches or a little larger like 11 or even 12 inches, which would probably be the upper limit on the potential size of the object, in my mind.

As my father Col. Dig Sr. used to tell me, a man’s penis size only matters to the men who use the urinals next to him. I’ve never used a public restroom next to Donald Trump.

(I have thought about it. How I’d approach that men’s room with trepidation, sweat pooling in the small of my back, how I’d swing open the door just as Donald unzips his trousers and lets loose a healthy yellow stream. As Donald is a busy, powerful man I surmise he takes few bathroom breaks so his stream will last a while. And there are no stalls open. Nothing to do but sidle up next to him, unzip, and relieve myself beside him.)

There is nothing untoward about this. It’s a businessman-turned-politician standing next to a veteran journalist, engaging in that simple act that all men have done since the birth of time. Perhaps Mr. Trump will give me a half-nod, his eyes directed inward, as if to say, “Carl Diggler, although it’s your job to hold my feet to the fire and call out my mistakes, at the end of the day, I respect you.” Then he gives his member just two shakes, returns it to its chamber, walks to the mirror, touches his hair, gives himself a thumbs-up, and walks on out. Is this really the sort of thing the media is obsessed with now, Donald Trump’s penis? Sorry, but I refuse to play that game.

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Confident Hoarseness

Buffalo Wild Wings Hatred

Hotel Management Skills

Scam Identification Skills

Trump University Degree

For-Profit Student Loan Debt

FINAL GRADE

B+

A

C-

F

Inc.

5 figures

C

Rubio came to Detroit tonight with one goal in mind: to demand a refund for the Trump University courses he took. I have it on good authority that 15 years ago, when Rubio was working at his parents’ motel in South Florida, he enrolled in for-profit Trump U., which promised to teach him the secrets of success.

Through these expensive courses Rubio learned how to wear power-ties, the Five Laws of Successativity, and how to be elected junior Senator from the State of Florida. But Rubio took issue with Trump U.’s bold guarantee to prep students on how to get “any job, up to and including President of the United States.”

After Rubio’s crushing defeat on Super Tuesday and subsequent talk of Mitt Romney replacing him as the Establishment candidate, the young Senator realized he had been bamboozled by Trump University’s flashy brochures and extortionate student loan interest rates. With Rubio having mortgaged his home and given up his Senate seat to run for President, his back is to the wall, so he had no choice but to give Trump a face-to-face ultimatum: either give me my money back from your MLM scam, or let me be President. Marco even dangled the threat of a lawsuit, saying he’s met with another dissatisfied Trump U. alum (likely Lincoln Chafee).

Trump of course refused to back down, claiming his for-profit college taught Rubio many important business secrets, like how to look at a man’s shoes to determine if he’s scared and how to use the power of erotic attraction to your advantage in salary negotiations. Yet if Rubio does lose his home state by double-digits this month as every poll predicts, expect his hoarse, prepubescent demands to grow louder for Trump to give him his money back.

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Quest For Humanity

Uncanny Valley

Skin Tags

Gullett Slack

Lizard Eyes

Toilet Mouth

FINAL GRADE

D-

A

B-

B

C

C

C+

Senator Logic came tonight with a lunchbox filled with stale, prepared zingers, melting skin, and a voice that can give children spectrum disorders. His plan was to stand up to the big bully Trump by rattling off certified knee-slappers like “you, sir, are incorrect” and “why don’t you pipe down?”. Unfortunately for Cruz and all deformed Americans who he seeks to represent, it looked like Don Quixote charging at a windmill, except the windmill is racist and powerful and Don Quixote’s spear is a wet noodle, and he has some type of goiter. A poor showing from the candidate who once excited analysts with his retro antisemitism and ability to make his own children cry on command.

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Let Me Tell You A Story About A Man And A Horse

See That Man Wanted A Cake, So He Went To A Baker

The Baker Didn’t Want To Make Him A Cake, ‘Cause He Had A Horse

They Argued, But They Didn’t Have To Get The Cops Involved

But Without A Cake To Eat, The Man Got So Hungry He Died.

That Man’s Name? John Kasich. God Bless You.

FINAL GRADE

A-

B

B+

A+

A

A-

A-

Kasich got off to a (literally) rocky start to the evening, as he nervously swayed back and forth during testy early exchanges between Cruz, Trump, and Rubio. The Ohioan corrected his course with his patented debate technique, however. That’s right, when candidates were sniping at each other, Kasich launched into his trademark incoherent, rambling stories that he doesn’t remember and doesn’t finish. While voters were repulsed by Ted Cruz’s meticulously rehearsed debate team-style takedowns, they were endeared by Governor Kasich’s yarns. “I ah, I can tell you about a mom I met, her boy…you know, you know how it goes. He’s dead. That’s what it is. We know how it goes, how the rest goes….” Kasich said to a gripped crowd. His Faulknerian tales of horse rides, dead children, and plane rides were admittedly without conclusions or morals, but as the old adage says, leave them wanting more.

Look for Kasich to tough it out until Ohio, where he can enthrall his old stomping grounds with his relaxed, almost opiate-addled style of speech.

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 carl@cafe.com or Tweet to @carl_diggler.

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