The Third Presidential Debate (Preview)

Tonight Senators Barack Obama and John McCain go toe to toe in a town hall meeting at Belmont University in Nashville in the second of three debates for the Big Chair in Washington.

A bit more unstructured than the previous debating club exercise with Jim Lehrer, this one promises to be more of a looser, freeform gabfest.  Tom Brokaw from NBC will don the stripes and carry the whistle.  They are even going to take questions from the audience, quelle horreur!

I’m pushing for an even more candid exchange for the third debate.  Ozzie’s Roadhouse on West Mercer in Seattle will be the venue. 

McCain and Obama will sit in chairs next to each other, at a table, without suit jackets or their entourages.  Dinner will be served:  Onion Rings and draft Bud. 

They will be required by the rules of the debate to consume at least enough beer to make it illegal for them to operate a motor vehicle in Washington State.  There might be karaoke, there might be drinking contests and there are pool tables.  Crappy tables, but pool tables nonetheless. 

Obama and McCain will have to play at least one rack of either 8-ball, or Sink or Swim.  They can play more if they want to, as long as they put a dollar in the table.  We’ll buy the first rack and the first round.

We’ll have them both wired for sound and enough cameras to cover all the angles in Ozzie’s.  Then we’ll start the discussions. 

Your moderator:  Mr. T.

MR.T:  Hey fool.  I’m Mr.T and this here’s the third presidential debate.  Don’t go touchin’ that remote.  You know who I talkin’ to.  You! 

Now sit back and listen up.  We goin’ axt some questions of these two pussies over here.  Alphabetically, we start with Senator John McCain who wants to be President.  And, Senator Barack Obama, who also wants to be President.

If you’d stayed in school you’d know you cain’t have two guys be President at the same time in America, so you gots to vote.  Now, which one to vote for is the question.  That’s why we down here at this joint to figure this out.

The boys played caps earlier and Obama lost, so’s McCain says he’s not going first.  Barry!  First question is yours:

OBAMA and McCAIN are at the pool table, both with their white dress-shirt sleeves rolled up. OBAMA has a cigarette dangling from his bottom lip, while McCAIN is re-lighting a blunt cigar. Several beer glasses and a half consumed jug of draft litter the table behind the billiard table. OBAMA lines up a shot, misses, mutters to himself, then walks over to Mr.T and knocks knuckles with him.

OBAMA: Yo T. Whassup.

MR.T: That’s Mister T to you long boy. You don’t call me T until I says you call me T. You understand me?

OBAMA: Sorry Mister T. What’s up? John and I were playing 8-ball and I had a run going…

MR. T: This is up. Debate night. 8-ball can wait. I got a question to axt you.

OBAMA: OK, ask away.

MR. T: The economy stupid. That’s what’s up. Din’t your momma teach you nothing?

OBAMA: We’ll I can answer that. My momma was a hard-working woman who worked hard. Like all Americans, who work hard, they’re concerned about the economy. And I’m concerned about the economy…

In the background at the pool table, JOHN McCAIN fires a double bank shot at the 8-ball, misses wildly, sinks the cue ball and sewers out.

MCCAIN: Cocksucker!

OBAMA: Screw you McCain, I’m talking here…

MCCAIN: We’re on? Oh shit… Sorry about that. I was, er, my shot, um, and, and I sewered out.

MR.T: Shut up old man! You get your turn next. Barry, you keep goin’ but I be warnin’ you, you best be startin to talk like you got a clue.

OBAMA: The economy is important to every working American…not just the boardroom table but the kitchen table…

Mr.T: Shut up fool! You ain’t tellin us nothin’. It’s your shot, go take your nappy head back over to the table and you come back when I call. Old Man! Get yo’ass over here. Mr.T and America want to hear from you!

MCCAN: Hello Mister T. It is a pleasure to meet you

MCCAIN holds his hand out in a conventional white man handshake. MR.T looks at MCCAIN’s hand like he’s holding out a steaming horse turd. MCCAIN withdraws his hand uncomfortably and sits next to MR.T, while cradling his cue across his lap.

In the background, OBAMA is searching for the cue ball, then sets it on the foul line after taking a long pull from his glass of draft.

MR.T: The economy McCain. What about the economy?

MCCAIN: There’s a lot of interest in the economy and my role in the assistance of the financial industry means I show the leadership needed to…

MR.T: You answerin’ the question or ain’t you?

OBAMA comes over the to interview area, pulls the cue chalk out of MCCAIN’s shirt pocket and walks back to the table. MCCAIN seems slightly distracted.

MCCAIN: Well, I’m a maverick, who isn’t afraid of Washington…

MR.T: You ain’t got a Mohawk. You don’t wear twenty pounds of gold. Y’all shut up about bein’ a maverick Old White Man. Mr.T was a maverick when you was flyin’ crop dusters.

MCCAIN: And I flew over Vietnam…

MR.T: An got your sorry ass shot down. You ain’t no pilot of my plane of the economy. Get the hell outta my face an’ get back to your game, fool!

MCCAIN slinks off back to the pool table. He takes a long pull of his draft and reloads his glass from the jug. OBAMA signals to a server for another jug.

MR.T: Now we got questions from the folks here at Ozzie’s Roadhouse. They wrote them down and we put them envelopes. And we got Julie here to pick the questions at random. She don’t know what they are and Mr.T don’t know what they are. ‘Course them dough-heads don’t know neither.

JULIE, one of the servers at Ozzie’s picks an envelope out of the pile, while balancing two draft pitchers on her tray. JULIE crosses back to OBAMA and MCCAIN with the beer. Both OBAMA and MCCAIN pull out some cash and pay. MCCAIN pulls out a few more bills and hands them to OBAMA, who stuffs them in his shirt pocket. Apparently MCCAIN lost that round at the pool table. OBAMA feeds another dollar into the table and the balls crash out.

OBAMA: You break this time John… I’ll rack

MCCAIN: You’re on…

MR.T: Shut up back there fools! Mr.T is workin’ here. We got Julie to pick us out a random question.

MR.T rips the envelope open and pulls out a slip of paper. He reads the question to himself.

MR.T: Now this is my kind of question. Short and sweet, like little Julie there… Fools! Get over here! Mr.T and America want to know.

OBAMA and MCCAIN cross to the interview area and sit next to MR.T MCAIN and OBAMA have brought their beer glasses and their cues. MCCAIN has his reading glasses propped up on his forehead.

MR.T: This is one of the questions in the envelopes. From regular folks right here. You two clowns ready?

OBAMA: Sure

MCCAIN: Go ahead

MR.T: One word answers only or you both be in trouble with Mr.T. Barry be first. Here’s the question: Iraq?

OBAMA: Out.

MR.T: McCain, same question: Iraq?

MCCAIN: Fucked.

MR.T: Old Man wins that one. McCain you choose another envelope.

MCCAIN holds his hand out. OBAMA grudgingly takes a bill out of his top pocket and hands it to MCCAIN who puts it in his own shirt pocket. MCCAIN picks another envelope.

MR.T: Next question. Old Man goes first. One word answer again. Hockey-Mom or Pit-Bull?

MCCAIN: Pit-Bull.

MR.T: One word answer Barry. Hockey Mom or Pit Bull?

OBAMA: GILF.

MR.T: What the hell is that?

OBAMA leans into MR.T and whispers something.

MR.T: You ARE a dirty dog. Barry wins that round. Pick one!

MCCAIN take a bill out of his shirt pocket and slaps it into OBAMA’s hand with a grimace. OBAMA selects another envelope which MR.T rips open and reads.

MCCAIN: (whispered) That was my answer Goddamit.

OBAMA: (whispered) Yeah, but I said it…

MR.T: This here’s a challenge from Eugene over at the bar. Which one of you ladies can chug one faster? Julie! Top’em up!

JULIE comes over with a jug and tops up OBAMA and MCCAIN’s glasses. Both put down the cues, roll up their sleeves a bit more and get ready with their hands flat on the table on either side of their glasses.

OBAMA: Ready John?

MCCAIN: You’re goin’ down school boy…

MR.T: Ready, set. Go!

MCCAIN and OBAMA grab their respective beer glasses and start chugging. MCCAIN’s glass empties in a blink of an eye, as if poured down a drain, then MCCAIN grabs MR.T’s glass and pounds it down too. OBAMA gags, then spits out his beer, spraying foam everywhere.

MR.T: Holy shit Old Man, how the hell you do that?

MCCAIN: Officer’s Mess at Pensacola….Champion in ‘63 and ‘64. Still hold the Pac Fleet record for the most in one minute. My name’s carved in the bar at Polly’s Palace on Ha Ba Trang Road in Bangkok too. (MCCAIN belches deeply)

OBAMA takes a bill out of his top pocket and slaps it into MCCAIN’s hand. They knock knuckles and swap thumbs up. They may be competitors, but they can appreciate each others’ efforts. OBAMA tries to dry his shirt a bit.

MR.T: Damm that was good Old Man. You choose now.

MCCAIN selects one of the last envelopes. MR.T opens it up and reads it. Twice.

MR.T: Last question and it’s a two parter, so you two fools had best pay attention. America wants to know. Old Man McCain goes first. Two parter.

Betty or Wilma and does the Carpet match the Drapes?

MCCAIN stops dead in his tracks and stares at MR.T

MR.T: We waitin’ McCain…

MCCAIN: Wilma….and…and…No.

MR.T: Homes? Betty or Wilma and does the Carpet match the Drapes.

OBAMA gnaws at his bottom lip, knowing this is the turning point of his campaign. He pauses as if to start speaking, then changes his mind.

OBAMA: My answer. My answer is Betty and Yes. The Carpet matches the Drapes.

MR.T: Julie, come over here and read the answer.

JULIE crosses to MR.T, who is remaining stone-faced. Everyone knows the entire campaign hangs on this one answer. JULIE looks at the answer and asks MR.T

JULIE: Really? Wow. I couldn’t tell.

MR.T: You gotta know these things to be President. Tell’em…

JULIE: The correct answer is Betty and Yes! The Carpet matches the Drapes!

MR.T: Gentlemen. It’s a TIE!

Balloons fall from the ceiling of Ozzie’s Roadhouse as MCCAIN and OBAMA both leap in the air, pumping their fists and hugging each other. Beer is sprayed and poured over both candidates by the other patrons in the bar. Julie is dodging the spray, while MR.T moves down stage to wrap up.

MR.T: That’s the Presidential debate from Ozzie’s Roadhouse. Dead heat tie. Pick either one. This be Mr.T You vote! Vote Early! Vote Often! Peace. Out.