Smile Politely

Two opponents, little value


As you may remember from last week’s column, Matt and myself are running against each other for a non-existent public office. We are doing this not because we want to serve the public in any manner, but instead because we enjoy negative campaigning. Things got a little rough in last week’s column and both candidates would like to rebut what was said about them.

Since Mr. Talbott went first last time, Mr. Coulter will go first this time. No matter who goes first, however, it’s tough to like either person all that much.


I’d laugh at my opponent, Matt Talbott, if his beliefs weren’t simply so sad and pathetic and also if they were funny, which they are not. He thinks we’d all like an army of Ukrainian-super children-non-freedom fighters to take over our country. He may call it discourse, but I think the Russians have a word for it, and that word is Propaganda. (Note: I looked the word up on Wikipedia and it turns out it has something to do with Catholics. Still, it sounds vaguely Russian, so my previous sentence stands.)

Would I like to spend this entire snippet criticizing my opponent? You bet I would, but he has decided to muddy the waters by also making accusations towards me, and I feel I can’t let that stand. Before we continue, I’d like to say that the community is talking and I’ve heard with my own ears of Mr. Talbott being unjustly accused of not being a homosexual. This is not fair to him and is also a line I stole from an old Nichols and May bit, but I felt it should be addressed either way. Now onto the accusations he’s slinging around like the poop of a communist monkey.

Talbott claimed that my only experience of balancing a budget was to settle a bar tab. Apparently, this passes as discourse these days. Yes, I have settled many, many bar tabs and they have usually been settled fairly and with a generous tip. I like to go 20% because it’s easy to figure. I would wager my opponent’s tabs are less accurate because it’s hard to figure out 3% of a bill.

I was also accused of wiping my butt with the Constitution and this is an outright lie. Did I wipe my ass with a copy of Club International once? That may be possible, as I often forgot to buy toilet paper when I was in college. Still, it was never with the Constitution or even the Bill of Rights, so that is simply not true.

He claims I don’t like children. Fine, I don’t necessarily love them and they seem a little parasite-y to me, but I would never let my dislike for others’ offspring affect my vote in any manner.

He also claims I have fighting dogs. What a dickhole accusation! My dogs do happen to be trained in the fine art of Greco-Roman wrestling, but I wouldn’t expect him to know the difference. As for my dog hitting him in the testicles, well maybe, but it’s not like they even work anymore, so whatever, grasp at straws much?

The most hurtful accusation made by Matt Talbott is that I have fucked a leopard. This accusation is particularly hurtful because I was not aware that my opponent knew of the incident. I’m not even sure if this is a crime, but if it is, let me just say it’s a crime of convenience and possibly passion. Were the leopard and I both drunk? Quite obviously, otherwise I would probably be dead. Was the leopard asking for it? Well, let me just say he didn’t complain … at least until afterward … you know, when I began crying and apologizing.

I believe I’ve addressed all of his bullshit and I’m not even asking for your vote really. Remember, you don’t have to vote “Coulter,” but for the love of God, at least vote “Not Talbott.”


Dear friends: Last week I spoke at some length about the dangers associated with a Mike Coulter administration. Since that time, some have accused me of “going negative.” But I don’t see what’s negative about being so positive that my leopard-fucking opponent is in no way fit for public office, especially when we compare his mad, likker-fueled ravings with my sober and detailed 179-point plan for strengthening America.

For example, I would strengthen the family, re-writing the Defense of Marriage Act, informed by the landmark Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission, to, once and for all, define marriage as that special heavenly- and state-sanctioned union between a man and a woman, or a man and a corporation, or a woman and a corporation, or just two corporations (provided said corporations aren’t both associated with the textile industry). Meanwhile, Coulter would make Caligula required viewing in all public school health classes.

I would slash taxes for the average, hard-working American family, paying for those cuts by tripling taxes for assholes like Coulter.

While Coulter stimulates himself, I would stimulate the economy, quadrupling our military budget and introducing a variety of creative and shovel-ready projects, including the building of a new super-collider placed just outside the orbit of Neptune. (Think that won’t create some fucking jobs, bitch?) As God’s chosen country, isn’t it fitting that America would be the first country to peer into the very essence of God? Meanwhile, somewhere, my distinguished colleague would fall off a barstool.

As the days shorten, as our lovely mid-western autumn gently and reluctantly gives way to winter, consider two very different versions of an American life, and tell me which speaks more clearly, more closely, to your heart. The Talbott household celebrates Halloween like any middle-class American family, with the carving of pumpkins, the drinking of warm apple cider, and the donning of costumes. Later, a fire burns gently at the hearth, and the house is filled with the candy-fueled laughter of children. Meanwhile, at the Coulter house, the evening passes as any other, with a huge coke binge and six to eight hours of uninterrupted masturbation.

That massive scarring on Coulter’s back is not part of some perverted Halloween costume. Rather, the perversion is he. And as our country heals from the wounds left by Hurricane Sandy, we need more than a slurred, “Fuckin’ A, did you see that thing?” That’s not leadership. And that’s not what America needs right now. America needs a true leader, credentialed with a Master’s Degree, who doesn’t spend his Sunday afternoons prowling the big cat house at the local zoo looking for action. My name is Matt Talbott, and I am that man who is and has those things and doesn’t do that, and I would appreciate your vote.


Wow, so many unanswered questions. Why are they doing anti-masturbation videos for the deaf? I mean, it’s not like they’re the only ones who need it. Why does it work so well with 50? Why can’t I stop watching it? Are those really deaf signs?

I’ve already bookmarked that shit. Those guys are really good actors … a little too good.


  • “Fun Size” candy really isn’t all that fun to me. They should call it “Frustrating Size” candy.
  •  Interesting idea for a television show, Malcolm X in the Middle.

Buona sera, senorina, kiss me goodnight.

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