Will the Real Mussolini Please Shut Up
The Republican debates, which started well, showed a decline in audience the second time around. At this rate the show will be cancelled before its first season is complete. Can this program be saved? The answer is yes, and here’s how.
First, the entrance of a dozen or so candidates needs some cosmetic help. Their appearance should be accompanied by a trumpet playing “My Old Kentucky Home” which is the only other place you will find such a crowded field. Instead of jockeys, who often don’t speak English, each candidate should be escorted by a scantily clad young woman, similar to those who hold up the signs indicating the round at minor boxing events. We hope they still do that; we haven’t seen a live fight since Joe Frazier beat Oscar Bonavena in the Garden in 1966.
Anyway this should get the audience aroused, but it is just a start. The big problem in the first two debates is that the candidates, when not insulting each other, say things that are either true or not true. The average person has no way of quickly verifying if Carly Fiorina was a good president of Hewlett-Packard who just had the misfortune of hitting a bad economy and an unhappy board of directors, or was as incompetent as Donald Trump says she was. It takes days to sort that out, as with former Florida Governor Jeb Bush’s claim that Donald Trump gave him money to land a casino in our state. Who knows? In politics both sides can be right.
It is easier to say that Donald Trump, when pouting as he does a lot, bears a strong resemblance to Benito Mussolini, who was once a supporter of Adolf Hitler but was slightly less ethically challenged and still wound up being hung upside down. Hitler, always posing as a humble leader, wore a plain military uniform without rank. Mussolini was less inhibited, sporting snappy outfits, and because he did not have Trump’s hair, fancied unusual hair pieces, such as a fez with glittering insignia.
We digress. Back on topic, the scantily clad women would have a role in bringing transparency to the debate. They would stand behind the candidates, and be equipped with one of those technical devices that suggest untruth by reading a person’s voice and body language. When an untruth, or partial deception, registers on their registrars, an enormous klaxon would sound and the women would hit the candidate in the face with a cream pie. Some of them would need a lot of pies.
Perhaps a better idea would be to have the candidates sit in swings above a vat of water, as in carnivals where one throws a baseball, and if it hits the bull’s-eye, sends the swinger falling into the water. Each time the untruth register goes off, a wild cackle like the witch in the fun house would sound, and the candidate would be plunged into the water, only to be jerked quickly back up, dripping and ready for the next dipping. Alternatively, a bucket of iced Gatorade would sit above each candidate’s head, and the deceptive statement would send it pouring down upon them.
And because Americans love a winner, and instant gratification, we will not wait for the networks to give us an opinion. Instead we will have the audience decide by cheering at the end, or doing a wave, or whatever. And one of the scantily clad women will present the winner with a Mussolini hat. Non-shrink, of course.