John L. Perry
Monday, Dec. 29, 2003

Trainers swarm onto the field to check him for concussion, if a difference is discernible.

Question: How many fingers do you see?

Answer: That’s a trick question. They ask it of every candidate for president during these rough-and-tumble debates. You’re not getting me to look directly into anyone’s eyes. Gotta keep mine down and oscillating. No telling where the paranoids will attack me from next.

Q: What city is this?

A: Vermont, of course. I’m gonna carry it and every other standard metropolitan statistical area in New England, including Key West. Along with all 48 states plus the District of Columbus and the Thousand Islands. I ask you, what’s George W. Bush ever done for Vermont? Come to think of it, what’s anyone ever done for Vermont?

Q: What’s your name?

A: Oh, no you don’t. If I told you, you’d have to kill me. Here’s a clue, though. It rhymes with spleen. Ask me again, I’ll tell you the same.

Q: Where is Osama bin Laden?

A: Ask Madeline Madcow. I heard they date in cheap caves.

Q: What should be done with him?

A: Which him?

Q: The one with the long beard.

A: Just because he walks with a limp doesn’t necessarily mean he piloted one of those big planes that bumped into that pair of air-traffic safety hazards sticking up in the middle of Manhattan. The French don’t leap at such convulsions. Kofi Anan at the United Nations of America has an interesting take on that, too.

Q: What should he be charged with?

A: Who? Mr. Kofi?

Q: No, knucklehead. Mr. bin.

A: Oh. Right. Well, as I was telling Gabriel Heater … maybe it was Drew Pearson or Walter Winchell … on the BBC, I think it was, or The Grand Ol’ Opry, this is a free country. Mr. Al Qaida shouldn’t have to pay for anything. Give Al a fair trial by his peers of fellow freedom fighters on a jury in an international court in France. At American taxpayers’ expense, of course. We’ve had enough unilateralism. I hate everything uni – universities, unicycles, unisex, unicorns, universal joints, you name it.

Q: That’s better. Now you’re sounding more like your old incoherent, irresponsible self again. Hold on. Where do you think you’re going?

A: Quick. Point me to the nearest TV camera. I gotta take a sound bite in the worst way. Shouldn’t have had that last can of Hater-Ade.

Q: Try to stay calm just a few more moments, then you can go bonkers again. Think hard now. Can you tell us what’s the name for the play you just called in the huddle?

A: Lemme think. Ouch. That hurts. Yes, I believe I called Rum, Romanism and Same-Sex Abortion. Right over center. Or was it Potted Chicken in Every Garage? Could have been Posterity Is Just Around the Corner. Maybe it was The Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Not Enough Voters Will Be Afraid. No? Try this one. Free Everything for Everyone, Including Tax Hikes for All. Not it? How about Thongs for the Memories? I seem to recall Clinton was especially partial to that one. Wait, now I remember. Tippercanoe and Algore II.

Q: You’re getting closer. Focus.

A: I got it! I got it! Come Let Us Hate Bush Together.

Q: That’s it! Are you our unlovable, unelectable leader or what!

A: I know she looks better with the face mask, but tell Hillary to take off her helmet and sit herself back down. I’m still good to go.

Q: Then you can give us the ol’ Doc Strangehate cheer?

A: You bet your sweet country I can:

Who needs a smile?
Give us that bile!
No one can out-mean Dean!

Rhymes with spleen!
Rhymes with mean!
No one can out-mean Dean!

Then it’s Dean, Dean, Dean
With a hatred in his spleen!
No one can out-mean Dean!

Gunga! Gunga! Gunga!

Editor's note:
Get NewsMax’s special report on Howard Dean – Click here now

Read more on this subject in related Hot Topics:
2004 Elections