[Election ‘016 008] Slingshot, Scott

[Election ‘016 008] Slingshot, Scott


Scott Walker, Scott Walker. What do we have here? I see you standing in front of a white wall, and you’re staring at it very intently, but I don’t know what you’re seeing in this wall. Could it be that you see something nobody else does? Very mysterious, Scott.

You turn around and look at me, and you don’t look so happy. What’s wrong, Scott? Cat got your tongue? Did a dog get your tongue? Surely something nabbed your tongue and got right outta here with it.

“Nobody’s got my tongue,” you say. Well then, what’s up with this wall business, Scott? I can’t understand what you’re doing, Scott. I don’t think anyone can. “I’m sad,” you say. I just don’t think that’s a reason to be staring at a white wall though. Why not look out the window, or in the mirror? Go people-watching, see all the sad people who are sadder than you.

Nevermind, what’s better is you stop being sad. There’s nothing you could have done, Scott. “I used to be so popular,” you say. “But then I spoke.” Yes, Scott, yes you did. I’m sorry, Scott. If you could ride your motorcycle around all day, looking all cool and fresh, I feel you’d make a great impression. Just try not to speak so often, y’know?

“I’m such a loser,” you say. No, no, no, don’t say that, Scott. It’s not true. Okay, it’s partially true, Scott. I don’t want to lie to you, Scott. But don’t feel so bad about yourself, Scott.

You stop listening to me, for whatever reason. Fine, be that way, I say. you start walking away from the white wall and start staring at that replica of the Mona Lisa. What a tacky painting to have a in a house, though. Who would buy a replica of Mona Lisa and hang it up on their wall? I hope it wasn’t you, Scott.

“I know what I need to do,” you say, staring at that painting. That really tacky painting, I might add once again. You ignore me. “I need to become more conservative. I need to be more appreciated. It’ll help me out, and it’ll boost me to even greater heights.” You might think that, Scott. I couldn’t possibly comment.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Scott, Scott, Scott. Can’t you see? That’s not going to work. You’ve already lost. How can you differentiate yourself from yourself? Do you really think that would work? “It could work. I’ll make it happen. Myself and myself are not the same thing; I can become the future, and leave the past where it’s standing, right here and now. We’re here for positive conservatism, and that’s me.” I can hardly say you’re very positive right now. Thirty seconds ago you called yourself a loser and looked at a bad Mona Lisa replica. You’re still looking at that Mona Lisa replica, Scott. You’re probably still a loser, too.

Scott, come on. Let’s go outside and get some fresh air. Oh no, where’d you go, Scott? You were just here… I can’t find you anywhere in this house… Oh, Scott, where’ve you gone off to? Oh, The Donald. What brings you to this house?

The Donald looks me straight in the eye, shakes his head, and claps at me. “Congratulations, nimrod,” he says. “You’ve gone and done it. You’ve lost Scott.” It seems that I have lost him indeed. I haven’t the slightest clue where he could be, honest. “Have you looked outside? Even a numbnuts like you could figure that one out; he’s probably hitching a ride to Iowa. He doesn’t have enough money for the gas down from Milwaukee. I have plenty of money.” Yes, The Donald, we know you have plenty of money.

Even outside, I don’t see him. Scott? Scott? Oh my, what happened to poor dear Scott? Jeb!, have you seen him? “Not in a while,” Jeb! says. “Ask Lindsey.” I don’t want to ask Lindsey. Do you know if either of the Ricks are around? “No, I don’t. I don’t know where either of the Ricks are, and I especially don’t know where Scott is.”

Where could he be? I stumble back inside, calling out for him. The Donald and Carly are hitting it up just fine, but Scott’s nowhere to be found. Oh, Scott. There you are, Scott– No, it’s not him. It was just a shadow.

Scott Walker, Scott Walker. You must have catapulted yourself towards the stars, never to come back to the ground. Oh how I miss you. Scott, you loveable loser. Hopefully I’ll see you again someday. If you ever really existed in the first place.

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