The Pol Junk compound (aka Derek Phillips' basement) was alive with chatter during round three of the prez debates. Phillips Twittered it live, Johnny Loftus live-blogged some thoughts when he wasn't taking swigs of High Lifes and making lame asides to Jake Brown, and Pol/Junk adjunct and beloved mouthpiece B---- just kept holding his head and saying "Drill Baby Drill? WTF?" Loftus's thoughts unravel below. --
--Let's first get rid of each candidate having to give love out to whoever's bipartisanly hurting before the debate proper begins. What is this, the petitions at Catholic mass? We're all sad about Nancy Reagan's busted pelvis, but can you get on with the debate?
--That's it, that's the answer, revealed in the reverse shot of John McCain every time Barack Obama spoke: that old windbag looks exactly like an ancient, Clam-built version of erstwhile Lee Jeans spokesman Buddy Lee. Well, Lee with skin fashioned from a pile of clams.
--So tired of the Adler Planetarium "projector" reference. WBEZ explained very evenhandedly to everyone that the "projector" is actually a very educational and even entertaining piece of technology that brings smiles to the faces of children, puppies, and the elderly on a weekly basis. But you know, well, if that machine can't project an image of heaven on the wall, it ain't shit.
--Town Halls! Town Halls! Imagine it. Imagine Joe Six-Pack and Joe Plumber, sitting next to a NASCAR Dad and a Soccer Mom and the Hockey Moms and Ty fucking Pennington and every other goddamn talking point archetype generalization sitting there in the crowd. Joe the Plumber, man. Joe the Plumber. Heard he hooked up with a hockey mom.
--Fringe Peoples! That's what McCain called the outside agitators who were apparently sprinkled amongst the military families and veterans at his rallies. And then McCain said something about how there are T-shirts that slag him off somewhere. Right John, because that dude selling "McCAN'T" T-shirts out of a lean-to at the corner of Pulaski and Fullerton, yeah, he's the president of MoveOn.Org.
--Bresh of Freth Air -- It wasn't a goofy verbal misstep from Ol' Clam Skin. That's actually Sarah Palin's Braveheart name.
--Did Clam Skin just say that he was a fur trader?
--Tip your hat to Bob Schieffer. The best moderator of these debates was the only one who didn't placate and/or endorse the candidates' hemming, hawing, and misdirection plays, the only one who kept them relatively on point and the only one who was entirely, unequivocably impartial. Schieff can give a fuck who you think you are. Answer the question. Heard he kicked Joe Plumber in the balls after the debate; not because he's a small business owner, but because his phone rang during the debate, and Bob Schieffer HATES Katy Perry ringtones.
--In closing, let's just congratulate Ol' Clam Skin on his work as an extra in HBO's John Adams biopic. He played himself.
Oh yeah, and he played himself in real life, too.