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  • Writer's pictureJerry Della Femina

WHAT’S TO BECOME OF US? (10/13/20)

Let’s start with the presidential debates.

There will be more debates.

Trump is running behind and he needs them.

In the last few weeks Trump will get some last-minute momentum and he will start screaming that he’s making a big comeback.

Joe Biden can’t hide and so he has to come out and try to hold on to his lead.

So they’ll agree to another debate and here we go again.

Nothing makes a habitual liar like Donald Trump more furious than to be in a debate with an old grizzled politician like Joe Biden, who has told some incredible whoppers himself. Biden was also guilty of plagiarism and he got caught. Twice.

Trump doesn’t even know what plagiarism is. But it’s clear in listening to his rambling speeches that sadly, they are really, really, really his. No one else can be that inarticulate.

Trump thinks he owns lying.

Joe Biden can’t remember the past so he makes it up.

We’re in a heck of a mess.

There are Republicans, myself included, who cannot vote for Trump.

He’s had some achievements in his four years as president, but nothing changes the fact that in the end, he’s a dangerous, evil man.

There are Democrats who will fool themselves into voting for a mediocre candidate like Joe Biden because, “Yes, he’s slightly dumber than Gerald Ford, but he’s the best that we have.”

It’s this kind of “Only Vote the Party” Democrat idiocy that enables a moron like Bill de Blasio to go to bed every night and dream that someday he too will get the Democratic nomination for president.

So here we go through another farce they call a debate.

Both Trump and Biden don’t need a moderator, they need a lion tamer.

Why can’t the moderator be armed with a whip and when someone interrupts, the moderator picks up his chair and flicks the whip at the offender.

Plus, the debates are beyond boring, so how can we make them more interesting?

Here’s an idea from my past...

When I was about 10 or 11 years old, my brother Joe and I would have pillow fights, but instead of using the soft pillows from our beds, we would use the big heavy pillow seats from our sofa.

We would throw them at each other with the idea of knocking each other down. It was a fun game and we would laugh for hours.

Of course there was a downside.

One day my grandmother tried to stop the game and a big sofa pillow thrown by my little brother Joe hit her squarely in the back of her knees and she dropped like a shot and landed with her ass on the offending pillow.

My grandma Fortuna, who spoke no English and watched us because my mom and dad both worked, was something of a drama queen and so she screamed and cried that we had killed her.

We were not able to help her up because she weighed more than my brother and me combined, and we were weak from laughing, and so finally we went next door and got a neighbor named Adeline to help us pick her up.

Of course she was fine but was still hysterical and as I remember, that night, since I was the older of the two offenders, my dad took off his strap and gave me a few whacks on my behind.

It was many years ago and it’s a different world today. If that happened today my dad would be arrested for child abuse and go to jail and the courts would make sure my grandmother would receive many home visits from social workers and she would get at least a year’s worth of psychological counseling about landing on her ass on a sofa seat.

I thought about those sofa pillows when I watched the silly bare-knuckle debate between Trump and Biden a few weeks ago, and again when I watched the vice presidential debate hem and haw and lie and lie and lie.

The fact is Trump has turned this country into a giant fake wrestling match.

He sees himself like the big wrestling hero of the 1940s, Gene “Mr. America” Stanlee. Stanlee, a blond with better hair than Trump, would come in to a match wrapped in a flag. He would fight just as dirty as the dirtiest wrestlers, but he would pretend to be innocent and he always wrapped himself in the flag.

His fans would go wild with joy.

The other great wrestler was Antonino Rocca, sort of like Joe Biden. Rocca was a nice man whose greatest weapon was he could jump up in the air, throw out his well-muscled legs, and drop-kick his opponent in the throat.

Why don’t we stop fighting it and admit we are spectators in a giant fake wrestling match.

Why don’t we insist that if they want to debate, both Biden and Trump must wear funny costumes.

Why don’t we arm the debaters with 10 heavy sofa pillows and why don’t we put them in a boxing ring and let them talk and interrupt each other but every once in a while allow them to pick up a heavy sofa pillow and rush up and hit their opponent on the head with it.

Slamming each other with the pillows will make them feel better. It will make us feel better. The first one to go down to the count of 3 is the loser.

The sad fact about this election, like the fools who watched wrestling in the 40s and 50s believing it was an honest “sport,” is that whoever wins this election…  

We lose.

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