We’ve focused so exclusively on the election that I’m unsure I’ll know what to do with myself when it’s over. I write this two days before The Tuesday, the incredibly important Tuesday, the Tuesday two years in the making, the Tuesday to end all Tuesdays.
Now I’m wondering, What happens next? Oh, sure, somebody takes the throne, that much is definite. But what of the others?
Let me go ahead and run with the most probable outcome. According to nearly every poll everywhere, Senators Obama and Biden should, sometime in mid-January, rush everybody out of the Oval Office, kick their shoes up on the coffee table, and then one of them will lift a leg and crack off the first wind.
Which leaves Senator McCain to putter his remaining years away on Arizona Astroturf at the ol’ barbecue, in a “Nam vets go deeper in the jungle” apron, wienie fork in one hand, and a single tear atop his can of Mountain Dew. He’ll divide his time between guessing which plane flying overhead is Air Force One and scribbling insane little diagrams of what he’d do to George W. Bush given five minutes alone with him in a toolshed.
Every Easter he’ll call Sarah Palin, just to be nice, and he’ll mumble things like, “No, sweetie, it wasn’t your fault. Still no word on Couric’s home address. No, I can’t get it from anyone. No, it’s Easter; today’s the day He rose from the dead not the day He created turkeys. That’s another day, sweetie. Okay, you too. Bye, now.”
If he doesn’t already have one, I’m sure he’ll buy himself a real nice golf cart, and when he’s feeling sociable, he’ll zip it down to the rec center for some shuffleboard or canasta.
Sarah (Oh, sweet, lovable, dumb Sarah) will continue her quest to singularly populate the planet with caribou hunters and snowmobile-race fans. When Alaskans pass her and her rabble of kids they’ll say, “We’re sure proud of you, Sarah. You betcha.” But when it comes time to reelect her as governor, they’ll write on their ballots “anybody else.” She may even get her old job back as the rootinist, tootinist mayor of Wasilla, but offices of higher ambition and skill level (say, postal clerk) will ever evade her grasp.
And at night, John and Sarah will flip on their TVs and shake their heads and worry if the dull ache in their chests will ever go away.
WHAT I WILL AND WON'T WATCH THIS WEEK
Thursday, November 6
NBC 7:00 a.m.
No more candidates and elections and crowds holding posters and all the detritus and flotsam that goes along with it. Back to the perennial “reporting” of Jell-O recipes and schoolteachers who get their kids involved by wearing a beard of bees. Good. I’m NOT going to miss John McCain’s jowly, blinky, grumpy pan on the tube every morning — oof, there’s a kick in the crotch I’m glad to see go.
Kath and Kim
NBC 8:30 p.m.
This week on Kath and Kim, nothing happens. There are no jokes, plotlines, endearing characters, or interesting situations. It starts in the center of the Bermuda Triangle, turns three degrees to the south, and floats; it doesn’t sink because that would be an event worth noting, and that sort of thing is obviously shunned by this show.
Friday, November 7
The Starter Wife
USA 10:00 p.m.
This program stars that girl who was on the show about the gay guys. She was the one that wasn’t funny. Wait. There were two, weren’t there? Okay, she’s the one that wasn’t funny with red hair, not the one who wasn’t funny but always had her yams out the top of her blouse.
Saturday, November 8
Azteca 9:00 a.m.
I’m writing a new Spanish-language show about a wandering dog. He’s an outlaw. He steals to support a litter of puppies back in Juárez. He’s hunted by a bumbling Tijuana dogcatcher, and he takes refuge in churches along his journey. He’s ¡El Perro Libre! Now I just have to stitch up a small wrestler mask and get my neighbor’s dog to wear it. Come here, Sparky! Time to make you a star!
ABC 9:00 p.m.
Lost is like a Rubik’s cube with pictures of Star Trek characters painted on its sides. Sure, you could spend the next two years figuring out how to solve it, but you’re still a fantastic dork who lives behind a comic-book store and keeps more lizards and pornography than one man should legally be allowed to keep.
Sunday, November 9
Animal Planet 10:00 p.m.
WHALE WARS! GOOD LORD, YOU ANIMAL PLANET GENIUSES! I totally want to armor a whale and ride it to Mogadishu. If I could get it to fly, think of the bombs I could drop. And by bombs, of course, I mean poop.
Monday, November 10
ABC 9:30 p.m.
Weird. Mary-Kate Olsen joins the cast for this episode. (Is she the skinny one on dope or the other one?) Apparently, the hot chick from Married with Children is supposed to help her with something. Whatever the cure is to Mary-Kate’s problems, it should start with a burrito and a bottle of methadone. Correction: burrito, bottle of methadone, and a stern spanking. Wait a minute: burrito, bottle of methadone, spanking, antlers (for me), a Viking helmet (for her), and then “labor therapy,” which begins with her scrubbing my bathtub. There, all better. Damn, I’m like Dr. Phil.
Tuesday, November 11
Rock of Love Charm School
VH1 9:00 p.m.
If VH1 flogs this Rock of Love concept any harder, it’s going to look like Paris Hilton’s tube of ChapStick. (That stuff really does moisturize and soothe cracked, chapped, and burning skin everywhere. EVERYWHERE. Think about it.)
Wednesday, November 12
42nd Annual Country Music Awards
ABC 8:00 p.m.
Ugh. I’d rather watch Bridget the Midget eat a plate of cupcakes while riding in one of those motorized coin-op red rocket ships outside of a grocery store. Wait. To be honest, I’d really rather watch that than anything else...ever. Damn, that’d be good. Can someone set that up?
Thursday, November 13
FOX 9:00 p.m.
Here’s how my thought process goes after watching Kitchen Nightmares: Oh, my God, that’s disgusting! I’ll never eat at a restaurant ever again. Oh, I got a text. What’s it say? “Meet me at Burny McGarbagefryers in ten minutes and I’ll buy you an extra-sloppy joe!” HOT DAMN! I’m back! I need eggs and shellfish prepared by an immigrant, right now.