Evil Journalista alerted Francine to a new development in the presidential race. Just when it was starting to grow stale with the major party nominations wrapping up, the third parties have arrived to provide some blogging fodder, which is splendid because Francine has blog guilt as a result of cavorting around with Jake so much this week. As Evil Journalista advised, Francine firefoxes over to the website of Kitty O'Couscous, Renaissance woman of the 21st century: Kitty's an existentialist philosopher, a porn star, a professional wrestler, a stripper, and a tragimetal vocalist. Normally visiting Kitty's website costs $39.95 a month, discreetly billed on one's credit card as "KOC Enterprises", but today it's free because she has a major announcement and she's holding a webcast press conference.
The screen opens on a podium with the seal of the president of The United States Of America on it. The camera pulls back to show a projection of the White House on the back wall behind the podium, flanked by a flag on each side (one of the stars and stripes and the other of Kitty's emblem, which is a cat walking between two pedestals that are obviously phallic symbols). A man dressed in a suit and tie and wearing dark sunglasses stands at either end of the scene. Francine suspects they're supposed to be taken for Secret Service agents, but are probably costars of Kitty's videos. As the camera pulls further back, it shows a smattering of press sitting in folding chairs and typing on their phones and PDAs.
Kitty's wrestling entrance theme music blares--1970s porn funk grooves mixed with tragimetal riffing over which cat noises of hissing, meowing, and purring can be heard along with the sounds of a woman having a loud orgASM!--and the woman herself enters the scene, complete with a peek-a-boo brunette medium-length do, which contrasts well with the plain white robe she wears. Due to her half-Irish, half-Algerian ancestry (or so she claims at least), she has striking facial features when they emerge from the hair that often obscures her face. She reaches the podium, rests her arms on it and surveys the crowd, turning from side to side, smiling, and occasionally pointing and doing a rapid crablike wave with her hands at somebody. She takes a deep breath and begins to speak: "Thank you for coming today. I've thought about this day long and hard. This country's done a lot for me, so I want to do the country something. I've been very unsatisfied with the presidential candidates so far, and I've been waiting for one to come along that could stroke my dreams, but I realized no one was going to pop up. So I decided I had to erect myself if I wanted someone to elect; therefore I'm declaring my candidacy for the oral, I mean, oval office of President of the United States of America!"
The press nod and keep typing on their phones, but the Secret Service agents/woodsmen applaud. Kitty continues before the sparse applause finishes, "I'm running as an independent because this country was founded by the Declaration of Independence! My party will be the Party Party and we will guarantee life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, especially that last part. I know what it's like to be screwed so I promise the American people that I will never screw them. I make more than enough money from my businesses already so I don't need bribes; as a result, I'm always going to do the right thing for the pubic, I mean, public!"
She pauses, "By the way, my new t-shirt has a foreign relations theme and it's awesome. You can find it in the shop portion of my website for $19.99."
She continues, "I'm tired of these old men who can't get it up running the country into the ground with their war and greed. I'm here for peace and love and I think you are too. It's time to let a woman, a sexy woman I might add, run things. This country's sick and I aim to clean it up. I mean 'fuck you' is regarded as an insult? Like did you ever think about that? That's just wrong. 'Fuck you' should be a compliment like 'You're so hot I want to fuck you.' This society has glorified war and death long enough; it's time for us to celebrate sex and life. No more statues of mass murderers. I want statues of women who've had ten kids erected instead. What's wrong with the body? Let's celebrate the body. By the time I leave office, 'fuck you' is going to be high praise, not an insult. I mean sure we need taboo words, but we need to think about what words those are. I mean there is no God, so why is swearing a God's name obscene? It's because if you swear to do something in a deity's name, and then you don't do it, the deity looks bad, so people made that a taboo so they could protect their deity from people questioning him, and it's usually him, isn't it ladies? Well, the closest thing you'll ever find to a goddess has arrived and she, that's me, is going to lead this country into the promised land of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. I may not win this race but I will speak my mind and have a good time, and make those impotent old men sweat if they want to continue with the same old nonsense that's ruining this country. I am a fertility goddess and I will show them how to stimulate the economy. I will now take questions."
One reporter stands up, an older grumpy rumply male veteran of many a presidential campaign, and asks, "But the presidency is serious business. Ms. O'Couscous, quite honestly, even with all the French philosophy you like to discuss, you have a lightweight image, so are you tough enough to be president?"
"Honey, I'd like to see any of the other candidates do an anal double penetration gang bang. If that ain't toughness, then I don't know what is."
Another reporter, a middle-aged female reporter with an immaculate helmet of hair, "But you have no military experience! How can you be commander in chief?"
"You're forgetting I was in Army Love 69 III. Plus I can be a real bitch when I have to."
A third reporter, who looks suspiciously like another famous porn star, Scorchy Seagrams, except for the glasses she's wearing, "Ms. O'Couscous, do you have any skeletons in your closet you'd like to declare now?"
Kitty moves from behind the podium and stands in front of it. She unbelts her robe, takes it off, and tosses it to one of the Secret Service agents, who catches it. "As you can see," she says, standing nude, "Unlike those other candidates, I have nothing to hide. Plus my boobs are bigger."
Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel, which is available in print and as an ebook.
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