I feel like I don’t even know you anymore, democracy. We used to be so close. We had a great run, don’t get me wrong. Remember when we went to Florida and got lost? Or when we had that four-day peyote trip with Ross Perot?
But we’re more than 200 years into this experiment, and I have to be honest with you: you’re boring. You’re a PBS special on Dutch Elm disease. You’re the technical awards at the Oscars. You’re a lettuce fart in locked car.
If we’re going to keep seeing each other we need to spice up our relationship. No more going to bed with the prettiest guy with the nicest hair. When we first started going steady you would only talk to white guys with land. Now every Tom, Debrickashaw and Jaunita gets to bend your ear.
We need a new way of doing things. If the 2012 Bataan Death March has taught us anything, we are falling behind the times. We need a relationship for the 21st century. People want something sexy, something intriguing, something that is going to make them take notice. A ruling ideology that’s a freak in the sheets and a lady in the streets.
Let’s boost our q-rating. And I think I’ve found out how we save this republic of ours.
May I present you to our future: “1600,” the world’s first democracy reality show.
Every four years presidential candidates will be forced to participate in a “Fear Factor” style competition to determine who will lead us.
The show will be set at the Thunderdome. Each week, candidates will be forced to vie for your vote by humiliating themselves and proving their love of This republic. Think about the ratings when we lock Michelle Obama in the scorpion helmet and make Barack Obama eat 30 rotten pig penises in less than five minutes to get the pad lock combination. Throw Mitt Romney into the Sarlaac pit to square off against fifty angry wolverines with nothing but his wits and magic underwear.
What better way for a president to prove he loves us. Look at how many women Flavor Flav got to date him using this model, and that guy is dog shit piled 5 feet 3 inches high, and he has whores aplenty.
No more of this “one man, one vote” nonsense, either. And no more having to register to vote for that matter. No more driving 10 minutes to a polling place and waiting your turn behind that crazy old lady that somehow reeks of cat pee but hasn’t owned a living cat in more than a decade.
Why can’t we text our votes? Or better yet, let’s sext our votes from our couches at home.
I have a raging electorate just thinking about this plan.
After all the sexts have been cast and counted we’ll present the winner with the keys to the White House. That’s followed by a slow motion capture of the winner climbing the bloodied steps passed those marble, Athenian columns as a Queen song blares out and F-15s screech across the morning sky.
Cut to the loser, sucking eggs on the front lawn before secret service agents beat the living hell out of him and his family.
There are no words to describe what South Carolina’s given us funny folk by way of free material, unintentional comedy and outright hilarity. From Stephen Colbert to Strom Thurmond, from Hootie doing country to that one dude doing a horse, South Carolina is the state that just keeps on giving.
So thanks again, South Carolina, for giving us York County Councilman Paul Lindemann, who just likes to have a good time.
Good morning and thank you for joining me. Many of you in this room are my friends, many in this room know me. One of you I met on the bus over here. Now, everyone of you has good reason to be critical of me. I want to say to each of you simply and directly: “My Bad”. I deeply and truly feel that this was my bad. People want to know how I could have been so stupid and selfish. I’m kind of curious about it myself.
While I have always tried to be private, I have a few things to say. Which I will say here for you now. Here goes. My wife, Elin and I have begun working through this. Elin – who many of you in the media have rudely begun calling “Wife #1” when in fact she is so much more than “Wife #1” to me. As she has told me, my apology to her will not be in words or in giant bags of money with dollar bills drawn on them. My apology will be in how many women I do not have sex with while I am married to her, which I hope will be for a substantial period of time. I have asked her and she cannot give me a firm date. So I am just going to pencil her in for until I die.
I am aware of the damage not only to my wife, but to my public image, with which I sought to change the lives of young people and perhaps fight crime and maybe to know just once, what it was like to breastfeed. Unfortunately, my mission to change lives went a bit astray. I have made you question who I am and how I could have done these things. Mostly I did them with my penis, but I also did them with my heart. Metaphorically. Except the penis. That was literal. And shameful.
I have a lot to atone for but I have one issue I want to discuss. It has been said that Elin hurt me (on the night of the wreck) (when I told her how I had been cheating on her) (and boy, was she pissed) (like a lot). That angers me. There had never been domestic abuse in our marriage. Except when I put my skanky slept-with-tons-of-strangers penis in her, which was probably very dangerous. Elin has shown tremendous grace in this ordeal. She has shown tremendous grace, elegance, hotness and a good fashion sense throughout. She was as dumb as a rock for staying with me, but she is a graceful rock.
I alone am responsible for this situation. I mean sometimes a guy can blame his wife for him sleeping with other women. Not me. No, this was all me. Again, my bad.
The issue here is that I cheated. I am the only person to blame. I stopped living according to my core values. Values such as “hit golf balls into holes very accurately” and “charge tons of cash to sponsors who want to convey an image that says that if they buy this product that they too can hit golf balls into holes.” Accurately.
I have strayed far from what is appropriate because of fame and fortune. I thought I was entitled to anything I wanted, because of fame and fortune. Women? Fame and Fortune. More Women? Fame and Fortune. Women to bring me more Women? Fame and Fortune. Because of Fame and Fortune, I didn’t have to go very far to get all of the things I wanted. Such as Women.
Money and fame made me feel this way. Money and fame are partially to blame, except for those areas where I am to blame since this is solely my fault.
I have a long way to go but have taken the right first steps. I understand the press wants details. Some have made things up that never happened. Some have said that I took performance enhancing drugs. Which is not true. I mean, look at me. This is all god-given.
I love my wife.
I have a lot of work to do and I intend to dedicate myself to doing it. Part of this for me is Buddhism. My agent said that this would be a good time to find religion, but I told him that I already had religion. I had it all along. Inside. For those of you who don’t know Buddhism is more than just a religion of tiny statues and Richard Gere. It is also a religion where you don’t fuck everything that moves.
I do plan to return to golf one day. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday and for the rest of my life.
Now, I will awkwardly hug some people. Please, do not ask for autographs.