Martin O’Malley and the Vision Quest of a Thousand Bernie Sanders Supporters
Thedude3445
“I have to win…”
“I have to win…”
Martin clutched the sheets hanging over his bed and pulled himself off of the floor and onto his bed. Now the sheets were spread all over the floor, but he was on his bed. Martin’s eye twitched and he rolled over on top of a pillow. He reached his unclutched arm up into the air and mimicked grabbing a lightbulb from the fan and taking it over to his face.
I finally watched the 2nd Democratic debate last night and I thought I would transcribe an excerpt from it that I found to be especially moving.
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DICKERSON: It is undeniable that the political situation in the Middle East, especially in Iraq and Syria, is at the least stable level it has been in a decade. Governor O’Malley, what would you do to stop the spread of ISIS throughout Iraq and the rest of the Muslim world?
Day of Chafee
Thedude3445
Lincoln Chafee sat in his chair behind of his booth in front of his front yard in front of his house. He had some pitchers of lemonade, and a few oatmeal raisin cookies, and a big sign on the top of the booth that said: “Linc 2016! Only 50 Cents!”
He was just really happy to be out here. When he read on Politico that he had the least money of any of the candidates, he realized it was time for him to do some fundraising. when he was governor in Rhode Island, he didn’t really do much fundraising; this time, it was all going to change.
And so that’s what led him here, ready to replenish his Super PAC, as well as the thirst and hunger of anyone willing to pony up (he laughed to himself as he thought this, thinking about his horse Buttercup).
His wife Stephanie came up to the booth and dropped two quarters down. “I hope you aren’t getting too hot,” she said. She took a cookie and bit down on it. She made a weird face. “Ew.”
O’No!
Thedude3445
“Witness me!”
“Witness him!”
The pale-skinned man sprayed his face with metallic paint, and, as the men next to him cheered him on, leapt onto a nearby car in a fiery explosion of stupidity and also fire. The car was perfectly intact, because, obviously it was protected from suicide bombers. It was the President’s fucking car. They thought of shit like suicide bombing road bandits when they built cars for Presidents.
“Dammit!” Martin O’Malley shouted, slamming his fist onto his desk. The sheer force of the impact cratered the desk. “Get me a new desk, this one is wearing out!” Several men rushed in, grabbed the desk, and carried it away from the Campaign HQ control room, hopefully bringing in a new one soon enough.
“Hold the gates!” Berndalf the White shouted from the highest tower of Dommu Biancu. The Hordes of Repüblikhan tore at the alabaster shell of the city’s walls and into its interior like a flesh-eating virus. Small pockets of the city watch were spread thin, fighting desperately to keep the monsters from spreading deeper into the city. As valiantly as they fought, they couldn’t hold the hordes back for long; the Repüblikhans were too numerous.
“Fight, my brothers!” Berndalf boomed, his voice echoing across the city like a clap of thunder. “As long as one of us still stands, the Repüblikhans will never take Dommu Biancu!”
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