I’ve been bothered by a bit of insomnia lately, but last night I slept like a baby. The difference? Presidential debate #3. Thirty minutes in, I was starting to nod and drool, so to avoid further embarrassment, I stumbled to bed and was out for the night.
I apparently missed some sharp exchanges, but I suspect those were nothing compared to the fireworks taking place at the Real Debate in Elizabethton, Tennessee. There Mark Ciptak, a blood bank employee for a local chapter of the American Red Cross, was trying to explain to his wife Layla the reason behind the loud, smelly brain fart in which he decided to go behind her back while she was still groggy from delivering their third child and change the baby’s name from “Ava Grace,” which they had previously agreed upon, to “Sarah McCain Palin Ciptak.”
I know this sounds like the kind of brilliant political satire that I might actually make up. I only wish.
His explanation? He wanted “to get the word out.” Well done, sir. You have succeeded beyond your wildest dreams.
Here’s a word for you, Mark: You can call in all the “prayer support” you can muster, but that one you “took for the cause” is going to pale in comparison to the one you’re going to take in the, well, you know.
This just in: Joe the Plumber from Holland, Ohio has been dispatched to East Tennessee to moderate the debate. And yes, he has his wrench.