Campaign 08: the Rhetoric Begins

With 2008 almost under way, and only four days to go before the Iowa caucuses, Troll Party candidates RALPH and Konservo are scarfing up the last of their plum pudding and hitting the election trail. And as the temperature drops, the rhetoric has risen.

Konservo, who claims to have spent Christmas in Jay Peak sharing a turkey with a “simply divine” accident-liability lawyer (he won’t divulge the name but says “I’m sure you’ve seen his ad on TV, and believe me, he’s much nicer looking in person”) has returned to New Hampshire where he’s concentrating his efforts.

He’s now daring RALPH to hold a public debate with him. “Ralphikins has not had any competition until now. So let's see how he performs when he and I are at the podium together. I hope he’s not a little fraidy cat. What’s there to be scared of? He won’t see any pantsuits on me - my divine Andre would rather sleep on a bed of cow-muck than design a pantsuit for anyone. You should see the glorious purple velvet gown he’s making me for the debates! RALPH won’t come be able to come near it. He’ll be Nixon to my Kennedy; Shrek to my Princess!”

To which RALPH replied, from his trailer outside Council Bluffs, Iowa: “WHAT IS KONSERVO’S PLATFORM?! HE DOESN’T HAVE A STAND ON ANYTHING EXCEPT HIS SIX-INCH HEELS!! HE HAS BEEN EXPOSED AS LUKEWARM!! LUKEWARM!! LUKEWARM!!!! NOW, EVERYONE KNOWS WHERE I STAND!! I AM THE RAPTURE MAN! RAPTURE MAN!! RAPTURE RAPTURE RAPTURE MAN!!!”

RALPH did not say what he’d been doing over the holidays, but he denied rumors that he had been turned into a gold statuette. “THAT’S A LIE SPREAD BY SOME LIBTARD LOVER OF SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING PIAPS, ON THE JIHADIST NEWSHOUND FORUM!! I AM ALIVE AND WELL AND THERE’S NOTHING GOLD ABOUT ME!!”

Will the rhetoric result in an actual debate? Stay tuned.

Holiday Greetings from the Troll Party

The campaign staff of Ralph/Blat 2008 is pleased to offer you the greetings of the season with this holiday treat! (Our thanks to staffer UKLD for the widget.)

Konservo Throws his Hat into the Ring!!

RALPH watch out! You have a rival in the race for the Troll Party nomination! Someone who once worshipped the ground you walked on is even now slipping a knife between your shoulder blades.

Last night as patrons at Michael Timothy’s Urban Bistro in Nashua, New Hampshire, were finishing their dinners and sipping their Grand Marniers, a diner in a red silk sheath dress trimmed with white fur, who had hitherto sat quietly in a corner with a nondescript companion, demolishing a Mu Shu Duck Pizza, suddenly rose, leaped onto the table, and hitched his skirt above his knees.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" he cooed. "Thank you for being here, rather than down at Hollis Pharmacy shaking hands with John McCain. For your reward, I have come to deliver a political message you will never forget. I am Konservo the Great, and I am officially announcing my intention to challenge RALPH for the Troll Party nomination. "

Expressions of astonishment (or something) from the patrons.

"Who is RALPH, you may ask?" Konservo continued. "And well may you ask! RALPH, hitherto the sole candidate for the Troll Party, has decided to shirk his responsibilities. He has gone into hiding in the foothills of Montana. He’s been there so long everyone has forgotten who he is. And why? Because he’s afraid of Hillary Clinton!" His nondescript companion lifted his head from the pizza and gave a derisive hoot. "Oh, thanks for reminding me. This is running mate, Campaign Blat. And I share his sentiments. RALPH is a chicken-heart. RALPH is a fraidy little boy! I, on the other hand, am afraid of nobody. I will never hide behind barbed wire or guard dogs, not from Senator Clinton or anyone else. I have taken the motto of your fair state for my inspiration, as I shall illustrate. Mr. Vice-President: Strangers in the Night. Hit it." And while Campaign Blat accompanied him at the piano, Konservo began to croon:

I'll live free or die,

Here in New Hampshire

I'll live free or die!

You know you can't fear

That I'll let you down -

I love you heart and soul.

I'm the one to choose

In January;

Don't you go for Ralph -

He's really scary.

Vote for me instead

'Cause I'm the perfect troll.

I'll live free or die!

Give me your confidence and I'll live free or die!

But if you should decide that

You won't vote for me,

I promise solemnly,

I will climb the Great Stone Face

And hurl myself out into space...

So

Kiss old Ralph goodbye -

He's such a wiener.

You know I'm your guy,

A real keener.

Raise my banner high,

And we'll live free or die!

Dooby dooby doo
Doo doo-doo dee-dah
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo..

That’s what you’re full of!" shouted a diner, throwing a piece of bruschetta at Konservo. Before long the air was thick with biscotti, garlic bread and pepperoni, while the New Candidate danced in the aisles chanting, "Bring it on! Bring it on!" An alarmed waiter called the police; but by the time they got to the restaurant the mood had changed; Konservo was sashaying between the tables, leading the customers in a chorus of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town," and everyone was enjoying themselves thoroughly.

"He’s cool," said diner Melanie Waite as she emerged from the restaurant. "I don’t care which party he represents, he’s got my vote." Other diners interviewed by this reporter echoed her sentiments.

RALPH’s reaction can only be guessed at.

While Ralph Hides Away, Will his Foes Win the Day?

The standoff in Big Sky Country has ended, and California Blat appears to have had the edge.

After several days of uneventful stalemate, the BlatMan simply shrugged and called out, "I'm hittin' the road. It's getting too dull up here. But I think you’d better show your face, Ralphy, because we have no idea what’s going on while you're in hiding. Campaign Blat has flown the coop, and we don’t know where he is. Kate Stone sent him a ticket to Minneapolis, but he never got off the plane. And we don’t know where Konservo is either. Maybe those two are in the same place. What would that do to your campaign? Think about it." Then he took out his guitar and sang to the tune of "Heartbreak Hotel":

Go and get ‘em, Ralphy.
Hang in strong and tough.
Go out and show America
You’re made of hardy stuff.

Go out and be a hero,
(A mighty hero)
And not a big fat zero,
Ralphy boy.

And he climbed into his truck. To RALPH’s utter fury and terror, all seven Rottweilers leaped in with him, and as he drove away they could be heard yelping happily.

So that’s where it stands right now. RALPH is cringing behind what’s left of his security perimeter, resisting the efforts of Über Troll and the Sonny Brothers to cheer him up or coax him out. Will he come out again by Christmas? And what, if anything, will Campaign Blat and Konservo get up to?

This just in: Cletus S. Knothole, speaking on behalf of the Moment-Men ("‘cause Hiram’s too drunk") made the following remarkable statement: "You know, if we had our way, it’d be Californy Blat runnin’ for President ‘stead of that RALPH character. Kin RALPH dodge bullets? Or turn hisself into a vulture? Or make money come out of a baseball cap? Think about it - with that baseball cap, Californy Blat could make the damn trillion-dollar defissit just (snaps fingers) vanish, iffen he was President."

A bit of idle speculation, or a genuine pointy knife sticking out of RALPH’s back? We shall see.

Showdown in Big Sky Country: The Tempter at the Gate

We've just had an update on the confrontation in Montana, between RALPH and California Blat.

In their attempt to waste California Blat, the Candidate and his followers used up all the ammunition in their Montana compound, including the "Terminator" reloads, mini-smart bombs, super-duper grenades and even the Windex refill and the can of Raid. But when it was all over, the intruder simply shook the dust out of his hair and said, "Well, if you’re not going to invite me to dinner, I guess I’ll crash in the back of my truck."

Ah-hah, said RALPH, I’ll nail him when he’s asleep. But to his chagrin the seven Rottweilers all bounded after California Blat, climbed with him into the truck and curled themselves around him like a living blanket, licking his ears and growling menacingly whenever anyone else came near.

The next morning California Blat emerged with a few stale crumbs of bread in the palm of one hand; with his snap of his fingers he turned them into a plate loaded with bacon, hash browns and scrambled eggs, and a huge mug filled with coffee. "Hey, Ralph!" he called, "Smells good, doesn't it? I can make you some too if you’d like, because I love you. I love the world!"

It was Sonny White who replied: "We have our own! Now get lost, Huggy Bear!"

"Not yet," replied the unwanted guest. "Not till I’ve told RALPH what I came to say."

When three hours had passed without the Candidate responding to the challenge, Blat gave in and called: "RALPH! What happened to your campaign? Where’s your duty to the American people? Don't you want to save them from You Know Who? You’ve been invited to participate in all the candidates’ debates, Republican and Democratic. That’s right - both national committees agreed to it, after the Newshounds of the Caribbean dropped all their other demands. They were so sick of Bill O’Reilly they said they’d pay a bargain price just to get rid of him. Isn’t that wonderful? You saved Bill O’Reilly! Now follow it up by saving America!"

No reply, though one could hear, from inside the house, screams of "RAPTURE!!" and "PULVERIZE THE DEFEATOCRATS!" punctuated by excerpts from the "Ride of the Valkyries" and "Smoke on the Water", and by other noises that might have been a pressure cooker exploding and a La-Z-Boy being thrown against the wall.

"The New Hampshire primary is only six weeks away, Ralphy!" his tormentor continued. "Why don’t you put aside your fears and put together a policy platform and show them you're not afraid of PIAPS or anyone else?"

He went on in the same vein without result until evening, when he retired with the Rottweilers to the back of the truck again. Soon afterward those in the house could smell pizza baking in a wood oven, and hear California Blat singing plaintively as he plucked on his guitar:

There’s a RALPHY who’s sure
That he’s bound for Rapture,
And he’s buying a stairway to heaven.

But while he hides away
All his foes win the day,
And he’ll see Campaign Blat in the White House.

Oooooooooooh, (chorus of baying Rottweilers)
And it makes me wonder...

The standoff continues.

Ralph: Defending our pets from PIPAS

FOX News' 'esteemed journalist' and 'Great American' Sean Hannity blows the whistle on Slick Willies shocking and disturbing ritual of animal abuse in his days as Commander-in-Chief!

I want to go back to this. On the eve of your testimony in the Paula Jones case, there was — you lost your cat. And there was somebody came up to you, a stranger, and mentioned...

WILLEY: He had run away, or he had — just turned up missing.

HANNITY: Your cat did. But you ran into a stranger who mentioned the loss of your cat, and your cat's name, and your children by name.

WILLEY: I didn't run into him. He approached me one morning. He alluded to the fact. He alluded to my cat by name in the past tense. He said, "How is that — how is — he was a nice cat." He said, "That Bullseye was a nice cat."

Of course, since we all know that America's Newsroom is being silenced by the liberal press and Media Matters, Ralph showed the courage and the patriotism of a leader by posting the truth on his blog that is read by many across the U.S. & Canada (and when we mean, read by many across the U.S. and Canada, we mean the eight of us who have started this campaign blog, one hails from Canada). Ralph Gives his fellow Americans some tips on how to defend their pets.

• NEVER LEAVE YOUR PET OUTDOORS UNATTENDED!!!!

• BE PREPARED TO EXERCISE YOUR 2ND AMENDMENT RIGHTS!!!!

• EQUIP THE PARAMETERS OF YOUR HOME WITH SURVEILLANCE TECHNOLOGY!!!

• FIND THE DEFEATOCRAT CLUBHOUSE NEAREST YOU!!! CALL THEM AND PUT THEM ON NOTICE!!! LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU KNOW!!!! THEY ARE COWARDS AND WILL PROBABLY BACK OFF!!!!

• CALL YOUR LOCAL BOARD OF ELECTIONS!!! ACQUIRE THE LIST OF REGISTERED VOTERS FOR YOUR ELECTION DISTRICT!!!! BECOME AWARE OF THOSE WHO ARE DEMLIBS!!!! KEEP YOUR PETS AWAY FROM THESE ADDRESSES!!!! ALERT YOUR LOCAL POLICE, ASPCA, NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH, FAMILY MEMBERS AND NEIGHBORS OF THE RISKS TO PETS IN YOUR AREAS!!!!

No word yet if Ralph plans on attacking Former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist for his conduct against the felines during medical school.

Showdown in Big Sky Country: or, You Can Run but You Can't Hide

By Kate Stone
From No Stone Unturned, Friday, November 16. Reprinted without permission.

It was only a few lines in the Great Falls (Montana) Tribune, but they drew my eye as if by second sight. It was an account of a brawl that began when a dusty stranger staggered into the bar of John Henry’s Restaurant in Choteau, gasped out a request for a double Jack Daniels, and added, "I’ve just seen my own face. Holy shit." When other patrons asked if he was nuts, he replied, "I’m a Vice Presidential candidate!" Things reportedly went downhill from there.

It didn’t take me long to figure out who the stranger was. Finding his cell number still programmed into my BlackBerry, I speed-dialled it without waiting to finish my decaf latte. Campaign Blat answered almost at once. He told me he was sitting in the Great Falls Library with his face buried in a magazine. He was terrified "they" would find him, and he begged me to loan him money so he could get away. I agreed to book him a plane ticket if he’d tell me what had happened, and this is his story:

He and RALPH and the rest of the campaign entourage had been hiding at a ranch in the foothills between Choteau and the Bob Marshall Wilderness Area (he refused to disclose the exact location, saying "You'd never get there alive.") The previous afternoon, as RALPH was checking the CCTV camera in the bathroom, a red, white and blue GMC Sierra roared straight across country and up to the ranch gates, its driver singing at the top of his voice, "You know that I was born a ramblin’ maaaaaan." Of course the truck activated the movement sensors around the compound, triggering the security device fondly known as "The Terminator’. But when the explosion and clouds of flame had subsided, the truck emerged, completely undamaged, gunned through the gate and came to a screeching stop in front of the ranch-house door.

"Then I stepped out," said Campaign Blat in awe. "At least that’s what I thought at first. This guy who looked exactly like me, except for the beard and bare feet, got out of the car and sang out, ‘Hello Ralpheee. You were looking for me?’ It took me a while to realize I was looking at the legendary California Blat."

RALPH turned the seven Rottweilers loose, but California Blat simply raised his hands and they stopped dead and slunk away with their tails between their legs. Then the seven militiamen RALPH had hired to guard the Rottweilers let loose a barrage of machine-gun fire. California Blat simply stood calmly with his hands in the air and, in Campaign Blat’s words, "the bullets went right through him and he didn’t even move. He just smiled and said, ‘you’ll have to do a little better than that.'"

Then, according to Campaign Blat, "all hell broke loose. The militiamen were blasting away with their Uzis and throwing hand grenades, while RALPH was inside bounding from window to window screaming, "BASTARD!!! RUN OUT ON ME AND STEAL MY MOMENT-MEN, WOULD YOU?!! AMERICA IS ON TO YOU, YOU TREE-HUGGING, BIN-LADEN-KISSING ASSWIPE!!!! YOU’LL NEVER LEAVE THIS PLACE ALIVE TO CARRY TALES TO YOUR SKANKY DOUGHNUT-BUMPING MASTER!!!" And more to that effect. Then he grabbed a semi-automatic and started exercising his Second Amendment rights without looking where he was shooting. Bullets were smashing into the windows and bouncing off the walls and I was afraid for my life. I got out of there so fast - with all the ruckus, no one even saw me leave. I ran all the way to Choteau. Can you please help me get out of here?"

I booked a plane ticket for him to Minneapolis. I want to get more out of him. Why is RALPH hiding in the wilderness instead of running his campaign? What does he think of the Konservo incident? And what is California Blat’s purpose in forcing a showdown with RALPH?

As soon as I find out answers, you’ll be the first to know, dear readers.