After Donald Trump called her ugly and then flip-flopped and called her beautiful, I decided to investigate the matter myself by trying to have a sex fantasy involving Carly Fiorina.
I figured I’d give it a shot. If everyone deserves sex (supposedly) then certainly everyone deserves a sex fantasy too. And she is slim. Slimmer than Donald. Or me.
At first things were pretty good. It was interesting and different. “Ms. Fiorina, are you sure you want to do this—on national television?! Do you really want to sacrifice your poll numbers for my pole numbers?”
But she was insatiable—she wanted it more than the presidency…
But then I got distracted—phone rang, email chimed, cat puked, something—and the fantasy died. And that’s the sign of a deficient sex fantasy, not being able to survive a minor interruption. A good one should be able to last all the way through a winning online poker game. And cat puke can always wait…
So big deal, does that really disqualify her for the presidency?
Well, when you think back on it, most of our presidents have been doable or at least doable emeritus (i.e., hot when they were young). Mom thought Reagan was cute. I’m sure my grandmother loved him. Even LBJ had that louder-than-life Texas charisma.
The only non-doable modern president we’ve had was Nixon and he got impeached. (Clinton got impeached because he was a little too doable, but that’s a different issue not related to Fiorina, sorry.) And our ugliest president—Abraham Lincoln—got shot by a really handsome guy.
You have to go back to Taft to get a modern president comparable to Fiorina or Chris Christie. Could we elect a female Taft? Are we ready? What if Margaret Thatcher or Golda Meier had been as huge as Taft or Churchill or Sharon? And if Hillary stops dieting again, will she become a female Taft?
Rather than attractiveness, charisma, or even intelligence, what we really need in a president is luck. A lucky president means a lucky United States. Luck will get you through when strength and intelligence let you down. Divine Right of Kings should be replaced with the Random Luck of of Doofus Politicians.
When their luck runs out, we kill ’em. Their death then retroactively proves their unluckiness and hence our decision to kill ’em. We can never be wrong!
And while being born pretty might be a sign of good luck, it’s not definitive—some of the luckiest bastards in the world are the ugliest. Billy Joel, Larry King, Jeff Bezos, etc.
Therefore, to choose the next president, we need more than just speeches and debates to decide the matter. We need more than just giant dildo tug-of-wars (see Perverted Wisdom article https://pervertedwisdom.com/2012/10/28/supplement-presidential-debates-with-giant-dildo-tug-of-war/ ), useful though that would be. We need random games of chance to see who’s the luckiest.
2016 is destined to be a sumo match:
Hillary got “neo-conned” by 9-11 while senator for New York, and the sad strange truth is that while America still loves Israel, they’ve pretty much had it with the neo-cons. (And no, they don’t see any irony there.)
It is written in the stars that the first female president will be Elizabeth Warren (after Chris Christie screws everything built up under Obama– we shouldn’t have nominated Michael Moore!)
Hillary’s record as secretary of state isn’t that great. Actually, it sucks: no Mideast peace; no reset with Russia; Benghazi; taking health-related postponements from the Congressional hearings and then coming back and claiming too much time had passed.
“What difference does it make?!”
Even if she won the democratic nomination, Bill Clinton’s speech at her convention won’t be as good as his 2012 speech for Obama. In fact, it’ll suck. He has his complicated side, too.
“No other secretary of state could have done any better than Hillary under those circumstances–not me, nor any of my predecessors…”
This time, Chelsea will be fair game. News people like David Shuster will be able to speak their minds again.
The two-hour TV docu-drama on Hillary will be produced by FOX–the whole thing will be crawling with subliminal ads for Christie, plus special “web-extra” content that can tear apart any pantsuit.