Fate, as well as ageism and ableism, didn’t see it for me in the cards to go to New Hampshire this week. Yes, despite years of experience, my editor Blake Zeff thought it best to send two millennial misogynist trolls to the Granite State (you can follow these “colleagues” on Twitter at @ByYourLogic and @virgiltexas). Yes, though angered for other Americans whose Siamese Sleep Yelling Disorder makes their traitorous employers prioritize less afflicted/qualified journalists over them, I wasn’t all too upset. I got a few matches on Tinder with some lovely ladies of the former Eastern Bloc, took in a debate, and generally behaved how an actual journalist does.
See if you can spot the difference between me and my counterparts in their cretinous report:
Fiorina Rallies Supporters In Manchester
MANCHESTER, NH — Long-shot Republican presidential candidate Carly Fiorina addressed an overflow crowd of about 100 supporters in Manchester Sunday. Fiorina, who is 7th in the Real Clear Politics average of New Hampshire primary polls, vowed to overcome long odds in the first-in-the-nation contest.
Fiorina was introduced by an unidentified man who asked the candidate’s supporters to hold up supermarket checkout lines and obstruct sidewalks to demand total strangers vote Carly in Tuesday’s primary.
The speaker then stalled for time when Fiorina was late, having been waylaid en route to the event by a receiving line of fans and perennial candidate Vermin Supreme. Desperately unfamiliar with improvisation, the unknown man asked the crowd to yell out suggestions for how to help Fiorina win New Hampshire.
“Vote!” came one answer.
That a campaign could be so desperate for ideas this close to the primary shows a stunning lack of responsibility and foresight on the part of Fiorina’s staff.
When the candidate finally took the stage she boldly challenged her exclusion from the previous night’s GOP debate at St. Anselm’s college. Fiorina said that the “game is rigged by professional politicians, the political class, and TV executives,” as well as “folks who live in places like New York and Washington.” That Fiorina continues her campaign despite her assertion that the results have been preordained by a cabal of wealthy and powerful elites is a testament to both the ex-CEO’s tenacity and the futility of doing anything at all.
Fiorina closed her brief address with her stirring campaign leitmotif, “CITIZENS, it is time to take your country back… CITIZENS, it is time to elect me your President.”
The event was billed as a “Super Bowl Pre-Game Party,” but little in the room connoted football except for a couple of sports-related balloons. In that contest, the Denver Broncos defeated the Carolina Panthers 24-13.
Rubio F**ks Up
GOFFSTOWN, NH — Marco Rubio was on an inauspicious path since Sunday night, when Chris Christie petrified him into repeating a boring talking point four times. That morning, he was slated to have a pancake breakfast rally, but a lack of ingredients caused him to make it a muffin event. Needless to say, Chris Christie’s campaign would never have this problem. Despite this, we decided to follow Vermin Supreme to his Super Bowl “viewing party” after our Carly expedition. We drove to the country club his campaign stated it would be at, only to see a hastily placed piece of paper instruct us to drive to a building in Goffstown, 20 minutes away. We made our way to the assigned address, which turned out to be a YMCA. There were a few media people we recognized from the Fiorina event meandering about. They immediately told us that Rubio was at some type of sports complex, which we drove to, all while cursing the Senator’s complete inability to plan, execute, or comprehend anything but 30 year old Project For A New American Century talking points and anti-Iranian fury that could have come from a Riyadh textbook.
Blind with fury and cursing Rubio’s “I must get whispered to by 10 aides before I shake off into a urinal” sensibility, we arrived at the complex, where Rubio was likely telling the crowd the need to cluster bomb the Holy City of Qom while a muted version of the game was playing. Sure enough, the combination of Rubio’s supporters and campaign staff and the media filled the lot up. A steel shop adjacent to the complex was offering parking for 10 dollars a head, but we decided to divorce our lives entirely of Marco Rubio and pursue Chris Christie at Cactus Jack’s, where he was hosting his own Super Bowl event.
We got there having missed most of Christie’s tough talking big man speech. We regretted every second we spent pursuing Rubio, because it’s not like we would have even gotten anything of interest. A few years ago, Rubio was an awkward marketing campaign, an unusually cheery Senator who would do goofy interviews about how much he liked Tupac. Now, it’s as if his brain were replaced by an AI of Paul Wolfowitz. He’s lost all human affect, blown every single lead he’s ever had, and if we tried to ask him something stupid, he’d be hustled away by his Varangian Guard of guys in quarter zip fleeces.
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 firstname.lastname@example.org or Tweet to @carl_diggler.