isn't it sad?

Other than Mr. Obama calling backwoodsmen bitter, gun-caressing, Mexican-haters, there aren’t any deliciously dirty secrets surfacing with our three Candidate friends recently. What the hell are we supposed to do? America is a country built on tabloids, sex scandals, ADD, and lies about being shot at. Just go back in time and ask our Founding Fathers. We all know that Mr. Obama’s still African-American, Hillary is still (possibly) female, and Mr. McCain still remembers high school in the Neolithic era. You know what? I’ll just start my own rumors to make the country a happier place again.
Not only has Mr. McCain recently been caught in a drug-deal involving the mixture of Viagra and heroin, but the investigation of the matter has led to the discovery of a love octagon involving Mr. McCain, Mr. Romney’s wives (assuming that all Mormons keep several of those handy in case of an emergency), Elliot Spitzer (that’s right, he’s back with a vengeance!) and Mr. Obama. Mr. Obama also took part in an elitist Muslim terrorist group recently which held innocent My Little Ponies ransom in exchange for the psychedelic bus that he’d been traveling on and Kool-Aid for his Acid Test Parties. My best friend, Hillary, is going to rehab next weekend, after the Pennsylvania primaries are finished. We can’t be best friends anymore, though, because it turns out that the woman likes Crown Royal, funny-coloured beer (that pint looked like it was diluted with water. That’s so not cool), and shots of cheap whiskey. That part is true, mind you, even when I say that she doesn’t drink sweet, girly drinks. I can’t be best friends with someone who drinks like a man-robot. Therefore, my now-ex-best friend is a tranny robot with an alcohol addiction.
What sad, sad times we live in. How will our future children look themselves in the mirror knowing what kind of corrupt individuals we ended up voting for?

[Lola.]