08/05/2008 05:12 am ET | Updated May 25, 2011

Mr. America

The Legion of Conservative Blowhards -- Rupee the Rich, Colder the Ice Queen, Headrush the Heckler, and Shrill the Screamer -- sit at a leather-upholstered booth at the Blood Rare Steak House, swirling martini glasses, pinkie rings and pearls glittering against crystal and candlelight. Colder smokes a cigar. Headrush cracks a pork rib with his thick fingers and sucks the marrow from it.

RUPEE: Our business is drama -- twists, turns, reversals of fortune. This presidential campaign has all the drama of watching a horse racing a pig. If there is to be drama, the pig needs help, and it's up to the Legion of Blowhards to provide it. Start blowing.

COLDER: The horse has an 800-pound jockey. People hate Michelle.

HEADRUSH: You hate Michelle.

COLDER: (blowing cigar smoke into Shrill's face) I hate everybody.

SHRILL: (coughing) Like it's your job.


The three of them laugh and toast with their martini glasses.

RUPEE: Focus, you fools! What can we do to keep our audiences believing McCain has a chance?

HEADRUSH: McCain has no chance!

RUPEE: Did I say he has a chance? Listen to what people are saying for a change, instead of the sound of that third-chair baritone of yours.

SHRILL: John McCain is Mr. America.

The others react.

RUPEE: Say again, mate.

SHRILL: John McCain is Mr. America. Not a German-loving, Muslim-sounding, We Are the World Singing, Green Tea Sipping, Marxist Son of a Kenyan Goat-herder --

HEADRUSH: Not a Heineken-Drinking, Coke-Dealing, Anti-Constitutional, Traditional Way of Life-Loathing Vegetarian --

COLDER: Not a Devil Worshiping, Left-Handed, Turban-Wearing --

RUPEE: Okay, okay, I get it. There's material here. There's contrast and that means conflict and that means drama and that means ratings and that means a good third quarter for Blowhards everywhere. Mr. America, eh?

The others nod.

SHRILL: He's a Fighter-Piloting, Flag-Waving, Tough Guy with Nothing to Prove to Nobody, who loves processed cheese, deer hunting and water skiing at the lake!

HEADRUSH: He's a Budweiser-Drinkin', Jeep-Drivin', Bronc-Bustin', Liberty-Lovin', Never-Say-Die, Pro-Military Anti-Tax, War Hero married to Miss Budweiser!

COLDER: He's a Firecracker Up a Frog's Ass on the Fourth of July.

HEADRUSH: If John McCain is Mr. America -- and he is -- what does that make the other guy?

COLDER: Suspicious.

SHRILL: Seditious

HEADRUSH: Salacious.

RUPEE: Saleable.

SHRILL: Are we going to elect a non-American to run America?

HEADRUSH: Not on my watch.

SHRILL: My word.

COLDER: My life.

RUPEE: Looks like we've got ourselves a campaign. Good work, Blowhards.

HEADRUSH: To Mr. America.

THE OTHERS: To Mr. America!

They toast.

RUPEE: Just don't get carried away. The horse wins the race. President Barack Obama is going to be one hell of a moneymaker for all of us.

COLDER: I can't wait.

She blows cigar smoke into Shrill's face.

SHRILL: I hate you.

COLDER: I hate you.

They kiss passionately as Rupee and Headrush exchange an all-knowing smile.