The lighting rig creaked as Ted Cruz kneeled atop the metal trusses. Thousands of people rustled beneath him, mumbling to each other about thugs and ISIS and welfare between mouthfuls of popcorn and soda. These were Ted’s kind of people. He used to fill town halls and lecture halls full of wide eyed, white skinned, blue collared Americans like these. They would come for miles to hear him preach the American truth. About how his family heard the sweet song of Lady Liberty and pierced through the iron curtain to fall into the warm embrace of her bosom. About how, with nothing but sticktoitiveness and and the grace of God Almighty, he overcame adversity to seize his dream, one which is shared with all young patriotic boys; becoming a Junior Senator from Texas.
But they weren’t here for Ted. Ted couldn’t fill a minivan these days because of him. That’s why he had to die. Read more ›
Ted and John: Super-Teamup Fight Time Go!
It was almost time.
Ted Cruz pulled up the spandex on his suit in a glorious montage, showing his latex gloves, his American flag-patterned boots, his metal-studded codpiece, and the amazing T-embroidered shirt he wore to top it all off, complete with seemingly permanently-erect nipples poking through. He was almost ready to do battle against all the baddies. He was… the Firebrand.
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“It puts the ballot in the box or else it gets the hose again,” Ted said.
Ted’s basement was cold, dark, and wet. The windows were blacked out and barred and the only light in the room came from a single flickering lightbulb the swayed in its center. Beneath the lightbulb was a neat circular hole about 10 feet across. Ted sat on the edge of the pit, his feet dangling playfully off the side. He grabbed a handful of campaign pamphlets and mailers from the stack that sat next to him and tossed them in.
“Please… please, just let me out,” a woman cried from the bottom of the pit. She grappled at the smoothed stone that made up the walls of the pit, but she couldn’t find her footing. Read more ›
Mad Kasix: Cruzy Road
Kasix stood over the cliff overlooking the large expanse of sand and wasteland surrounding the entire land. This land used to be the great state of Utah, but after the primaries… It looked exactly the same. But that was beside the point, because Utah reminded Kasix of nothing but the brutality and disgusting destruction of the past twelve months of this Presidential Election…
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Mitt Romney’s Dream at 2:30 AM on January 27th, 2016
Foreword: All Primary maps were generated using a cool tool from RealClearPolitics. Check it out here. You may have to open the maps in a different tab to view them in full-size.
January 27th, 2016
Mitt Romney laid over in his bed and his face hitt Ann’s back. It woke him up, his eyes jolting open. His vision was blurry and his mind was spinning from whatever he was dreaming about.
He then felt the warmth of his blanket and of Ann’s back. He put his arm around her, put his head back against his pillow, and closed his eyes.
It was a very long, cold night, and Mitt’s mind cleared into an icy Iowan landscape, one that he was so familiar of, for all those years before…
January 29th, 2016
Sean Hannity turned to Mitt in that same-as-always spin and smiled. “So here on the show today we have a very special guest coming to talk to us. It’s former Massachusetts Governor and Presidential Nominee Mitt Romney. Mitt, how are you today?”
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For the Queen
Queen Hillary sat on her throne overlooking a vast and ornate throne room. It was adorned with vibrant reds and understated lavenders on the widespread carpets as well as the banners on the walls. Several ancient statues lined the edges of the room, making poses that praised towards the one sitting on the throne– which was her, of course.
It was peaceful in the kingdom, as of late. The uprisings had been quelled, and the people were pacified. She knew not how it was accomplished, but she did not give too much thought, for she had more pressing matters to deal with.
As a matter of fact, one of those more pressing matters was about to address her now, for she saw Sir Chuck Schumer, one of her valiant knights, entering the throne room and moving at a brisk pace towards her.
“Queen Hillary!” he shouted as he approached.
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The Presidential Apprentice
Ted Cruz stood among a shroud of darkness. It enveloped him like nothing else ever had; though he tried to embrace the calming powers of the infinite black, he felt a sense of unease sweeping through him. He could no longer see the door through which he entered the room, so he realized he was trapped in here, alone with nothing but his wits and his constitutional conservatism to guide him.
His eyes were adjusting to the dark, letting him see various shapes in the distance, when he realized he was in an office room of some sort. So he hadn’t just trapped me in this place to let me suffer… That’s fortunate.
A few small red lights turned on, illuminating small portions of the room in a moody crimson. Finally, Ted Cruz was able to let himself take several steps forward towards what he realized was a large desk, though it was shaped like nothing else he had ever seen.
For all Ted knew, he was alone, but he felt a presence around him, and not just the darkness that had seemingly accepted him into its fold. I wonder if he’s really here… Ted closed his eyes and let himself focus, and then felt a hand on his shoulder.
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“Dammit, Eleanor, the American dream is dead!” Rafael spit at his wife and slammed his empty beer bottle on the table.
“Please, Rafael, not in front of the boy!” Eleanor grappled onto a bawling Teddy, whose American flag jammies were now damp with tears.
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