March 9, 2016—Jackson, MO

In this post-Bill-Clinton-on-Arsenio-with-a-saxophone society, news of Trump’s new hit single comes as no surprise. Following his debate performance and primary dominance in Michigan, “The Donald” took the stage among cheers and weird right arm stretches.

“Have you heard that new Rihanna song? Terrible, terrible song. It’s too bad, really it is. She was good once. Turn off the lights! Turn off the lights! Off, I want em’ off! Turn em off,” he cried one last time. Hushed epithets and murmurs of the tertiary realm subsided. The lights dimmed. A golden “TRUMP” microphone slowly lowered from the scaffolding.

“Now I am making her music better, and America great again.” Accompanied by a ventriloquized Chris Christie, he began, “wall wall wall wall wall, (you see me build a) wall wall wall wall wall (we’re gonna build a) wall wall wall wall wall.”

Over on the Democratic debate stage, things were a bit less musical and more “laissez-faire.” A lot of substance and sadly, not a lot of hand talk. An angry socialist and a bowl-cut Clinton exchanged heated and violent rhetorical blows.

“You hate Obama.” “No, you do more!” “You never loved him!” “How dare you—you—you monster.”

Unsurprisingly, Univision pushed their “lets treat illegals like humans” agenda (because aliens are humans in this progressive hell hole) and made immigration policy a focal point of the debate.  Moderators Maria Elena Salinas, Jorge Ramos, and resident white correspondent Karen Tumulty pop-quizzed the diverse duo on Obama’s immigration policy, asing if either would deport children or workers without a criminal record. Secretary Clinton promised not to be a “Deporter and Chief,” but emphasized her commitment to persevering in times of struggle.

“This country never stopped being great,” she began, “but we can make it better,” she echoed in the Miami-Dade College auditorium. This was a solid moment for Clinton in the debate; she soaked in the applause, sure to maintain a pulsing heat-vision stare at the crowd, nodding in a devious arrhythmic fashion, recalling movements of a prior Clinton conquest.

When asked of his electability Sanders argued, “Do I consider myself part of the casino capitalist process by which so few have so much and so many have so little, by which Wall Street’s greed and recklessness wrecked this economy? No, Anderson, no I do not.”

When later asked of his spotty record regarding gun control, Sanders fought back: “Do I consider myself part of the casino capitalist process by which so few have so much and so many have so little, by which Wall Street’s greed and recklessness wrecked this economy? No, Ander—Jorge, no I do not.”

Clinton wasn’t pulling punches either, and the Miami crowd responded.

“When bad things were happening to people—poor people like you people—I. Was. In. Office!”

The candidates fielded questions from the audience for a brief portion of the show. After cyclical talks of Wall Street and banks, banks and Wall Street, the debate’s stakes were raised about ninety minutes into the monotony. When Jorge Ramos’s lips curled in a guttural crescent, all ducked behind chairs to seek cover. Everyone knew, all too well, of the impending doom (or as the Mayans called it, ”Benghazi”). 

The link between space and time: “Secretary Clinton, on the night of the attacks in Benghazi, you sent Chelsea an email…”

Here comes Jorge Ramos from the top rope! Jorge, no! She’s got a family! You cannot just come out of commercial break with that. I won’t allow it. The crowd would erupt in a crescendo of boos and spontaneous combustion. 

“You get an email, you get an email, everybody gets an email!” 

In a fractal instance of life imitating art, everyone (save for Clinton) had turned into pastel manifestations of Van Gogh’s “The Scream.” Clinton fielded the question with political guile only the most seasoned of veterans have.

“Well, Jorge, let’s take a look. Lots of people have been killed under my watch, and so I ask you this. Why is this time a scandal? Their lives were made classified after the fact.” A savvy move indeed.

Ramos considered his assault from beyond the desk, hurling this question at Senator Sanders: “How would you subsidize students if you can indeed make public colleges free?”

“Well, Jorge, I will place a tax on Wall Street speculation. That’s a fair tax on the top 1 percent who own 50 percent of the wealth. That’s 1 percent of 1 percent of 1 percent of 1 percent of 1 percent, of the top 10 percent!”

As for closing statements, Clinton relied too heavily on her contrived “parrot fever”.

“I am a strong leader. I am the rightful heir—candidate to the presidency. I have the experience… and the black vote!” Clinton then lick her lips and rubbed her index finger on her thumb while seductively staring at Debbie Wasserman-Shultz. “Super-delegators…mount up!”

Contrariwise, Sanders’s closing remarks would not go so smooth.

“Well, Anderson,” he began, his leathery tongue beginning to hang exhaustively out of his mouth.

“Excuse me, Senator, my name is Jorge Ramos. Who is Anderson?” At this point it was unclear if the Senator knew exactly where he was.

“If that of which because, I am here on behalf of the people. Revolution! The Boeing fund, trickledown economics! It’s all there, it is all connected. 9/11 was an inside—you can contribute to my campaign at BernieSanders.com. Thank you.”

The candidates look polished and old as they braced for the Florida primary. There is no word yet whether Univision will arm the audience with tomatoes for the Republican (NSDAP) cypher later this week.