Meet Ted.
Say what you will about the fact that I'm a neurotic and antisocial drug-addled alcoholic with few prospects and no hope of ever leading a normal life, but I still know how to scare the shit out of people.
Children are terrified by his triple chins and beady eyes, which are ghoulish enough to make your blood run cold; adults are mortified at the prospect that he'll marry off their younglings to his new pussy grabbing best friend, Donald Trump. The cat is terrified every time his balloon head explodes.
Unlike the real life version - which is full of misery, human excrement, and the pompous ambitions of a sophomore debating team captain - my Ted Cruz is made up mostly of towels and string. The ingredients have been stuffed into one of the fat-guy suits from my closet 50lbs ago, and the head is full of hot air. I suppose in that respect it isn't completely different from the original (ho ho!).
It has been clear for some time that this election is so bizarre and beyond the realm of normal that the usual coping mechanisms - gin, cigarettes, relentless masturbation - simply can't keep up with the increasing ferocity and continuous intensity of the campaign. It seems that self destructive physical violence is required to keep from going completely mad. So I've myself a stress relieving punching bag and placed in my desk chair so it can dutifully phone bank for the Fascist candidate for President.
My God - is it not astounding? As soon as Ted "the principled morally righteous conservative candidate" Cruz endorsed Trump, down came the other shoe. Recordings of Trump talking about groping women (and a squadron of women corroborating his bragging) were perhaps the single most damaging events of this election, having finally shown white men in swing states that Trump has, in fact, been this offensive the whole time.
But it's not just the "locker room" talk that's tanking the Republican campaign: confusing and disjointed debate performances, a serious shortfall in organization and fundraising, and the propensity for Trump to latch on to something - Paul Ryan, Miss Universe contenders, the Washington Post - like a mad dog and shake until Kellyanne Conway can get Chris Christie to sit on him and calm him down, all contribute to the most self-destructive political behavior in living memory.
So the crowds are starting to thin out, and the staff are starting to disappear. There are still 16 days left before the election, but it's hard to see how Trump pulls the show out of its tailspin before it hits the ground hard and bursts into spectacular flames. The debates are now finished, and he's handily lost all three of them. His organization is pulling out of states where a Republican should be competitive, while Clinton is putting new money (at the end of October!) into places like Indiana and Missouri...and is polling within the margins in Texas even as I write this.
New, lurid stories of sexual assaults now flood the news everyday and Trump seems to have finally slipped over the edge, existing now entirely in his own dimension that not even his running mate or campaign manager or children seem to be able to see. No wonder the RNC has decided to stop spending money on him - mounting a desperate attempt to salvage the Senate and House instead, and many GOP candidates in both of those races are desperately trying to saw off whatever limbs they still have handcuffed to the Presidential ticket they have spent years building.
At least there's only two weeks to go; the home stretch of a 3 year long marathon. Then we can pick up the pieces of our broken hearts and American dreams, and chuck them into the fire along with the rest of this year's disappointments.
