On debate nights at Casa Diablo, Jorge perches on the couch in the Boom Boom Room, providing a running commentary on the action while taking copious notes such that he can provide a nuanced and informed review of the proceedings in this space.

It is a bit more harrowing for Phillipe, who must be forced to watch the proceedings — chained to a wooden beam in the center of the room with a ball gag in his mouth and his eyes held open by a device similar to that used on Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange.

Jorge provides P. with couple of Xanax, washed down by a triple Pernod and grapefruit, to limit the thrashing and muffled screams that inevitably result when the candidates commence shoveling tons on manure onto the public's lap, while posturing like runway models.

It is a bit harsh, but definitely required after P. applied the Elvis/Robert Goulet treatment to the 80" during the first Gore-Bush debate — running from the room and winding up semi-conscious in the hedges around the pool house, where he was found feebly humming "God Bless America."

As we write, Mannequin Mitt and Obama the Aloof have just come off stage after their second encounter. The media and public are examining the truthfulness of the candidates' responses, comparing their proposed solutions to our most pressing problems, and looking for the depth of worldly knowledge that could best serve the ship of state. Nah, we're just joking.

In the coming days, it will come down to hysterical campaign managers and their Fox News and MSNBC stooges trying to convince people not to believe their own lying eyes and ears. They'll tell the public that The Mittster, staggering around like he has Al Gore's 2x4 up his fundament, or Obama, finally with a pulse, has soundly defeated his opponent.

Does the public really have a voice anymore? Yeah, on November 6 — if said public actually decides to vote.


Phillipe and Jorge were a bit surprised to encounter the visage of our old pal Buddy "Vincent A." Cianci when we opened the New York Times Magazine last weekend.

There, in the lower right corner of the increasingly annoying and unfunny "One Page Magazine," was the Bud-I, with the famed squirrel firmly affixed atop his dome. The subject of the item was "How to Be a Leader." Here was Hizzoner's advice:

"When I was an Army officer, the first thing they taught me is that leadership is not about yourself; it's about the people you lead. It's about your service to them, not your self-aggrandizement. (Pardon P&J if we insert a loud cough at this juncture.) It's the old Ronald Reagan saying that there's enough credit to go around."

Well, certainly a noble thought. And we expect that General Bud-I will be assembling Ron St. Pierre, Dan Yorke, and John "The Journalist" DePetro in the hallway at WPRO every day for inspection, before leading them on a duty-bound, mile-long march down the Wampanoag Trail.

One last note: P&J found it very interesting that the Times didn't even mention who Cianci is. They must figure Buddy is a nationally known figure. That, of course, will not go to the man's head.


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