hursday night’s presidential debate between John Kerry and George W. Bush had a strong ratings showing, and allowed the candidates to outline their future platforms, especially regarding foreign policy and Iraq. However, no candidate clearly fumbled the ball and shot himself in the foot with his big mouth, meaning the disappointing debate ended without a clear loser.

With a month left to go before the election, the debate provided one of the most visible opportunities for either of the two leading candidates to piss the election down his leg, whether through a verbal slip-up, a glaring faux pas, or farting directly into the microphone. Some election-watchers speculate the senior Bush performed just such a metaphorical gas outburst in 1992, when during a debate with future president Bill Clinton, he resignedly checked his watch to see if it was over. In Thursday’s debate, though he made some gas-appropriate faces, the second Bush, nor his opponent, did anything to completely obliterate their chances of election.

Most watchers generally felt the debate favored Kerry, who went on the offensive early and avoided appearing dead through much of it. The president, though being on the offensive, even managed to show a passing familiarity with the language long enough to fend off Kerry’s attacks and reiterated his platform that Iraq is safer today, unless you’re an Iraqi, since his administration got rid of Saddam Hussein. The word "beheading" somehow managed to stay out of the conversation.

While Kerry did not outline an escape plan for Iraq, he guaranteed he would bring in more European countries who hate Bush to help shoulder the responsibility for rebuilding the country and setting up its new puppet government. Not stated, but implied, was Kerry’s continuing the Democratic plan to not invade countries just for their resources. At least not overtly.

Recent polls exhibit Kerry’s apparent dominance in the debate. The numbers have again turned for the Democrat, showing he now holds a smidgen of a lead over the president among those polled, whoever the hell they are, showing 49% of them were more likely t vote for Kerry in a two-way race, versus 46% for Bush; in a three-way race with Ralph Nader, 47% favored Kerry, 45% favoring Bush, and whatever’s left over going for Nader or some weird-ass third-party candidate. In a three-way race with a well-dressed monkey, the president fared much worse, with 49% holding for Kerry, 40% preferring Bush, and 11% wanting to hear the monkey’s plans for improving the economy.

The same polls endorsed Kerry’s debate showing, as 61% feeling Kerry had won the debate, as opposed to a deluded 19% who believed the president had dominated. The remaining 20% thought C.S.I. really went to shit this week.

Still, the lack of a clear loser means, according to some, we’re still in the midst of one of the tightest presidential races in history, and time is running out for a candidate to win over the confidence of a large majority of the public.

"On one hand," said Professor Norm Chauncey of Newark University, some guy who watched the debate at the bus station with this reporter, "President Bush has failed to credibly justify his overextended military actions in the Middle East, as well as an economy that doesn’t seem to be improving. And on the other side of the table, you have John Kerry—a guy somehow failing to convince the entire nation he would not be a worse president than George W. Bush. We’re looking at a couple of real losers here."

The professor outlined his plan for America, if he were to become president, as we awaited the arrival of the 11:05 to Flatbush.

Media Plugs CIA Leak

French Protestors Politely Riot

Congress Lobbied for More Material to Complete Brando Memorial

Impotent Landslide in China Kills Only Micro-Fraction of Glorious Population

At times I realize how immature I have been in the past. These times are also in the past, having already occurred, but usually in the more recent past. The past weekend was one of these instances.

When I was 19 and hungry for work, not to mention hungry for actual food since the lack of work left me broker than space station Mir, I signed on, reluctantly, to do a sci-fi movie called Orgasma on the Moon. It was a softcore sort of sci-fi/nudie film, and yeah, it required nudity from me. I know what you're thinking and I hope you don't think less of me. But it's true—I did a sci-fi film.

It was a paycheck at the time, the easiest $500 I ever made for two weeks of work, not to mention I had more lines in that than most movies I did since Who's Your Daddy? went belly-up. I actually had a little bit of fun, but I knew a sci-fi movie would leave a mark on my career that I wouldn't recover from. I'd be stereotyped and stigmata'd or however you phrase it. I would probably never appear in Shakespeare on the London stage again, but it wasn't too big a downer since I hate Shakespeare and had never done it before. Actually, I'd kind of like to play King Lear but they seldom cast twentysomething women as the aging king so that's not likely.

Nobody expected Orgasma on the Moon would become a minor cult hit, least of all me. Hell, I didn't even use my real name at the time, appearing under the screen name Fanny Protruda. But that's exactly what happened, and though I didn't appear in any of the other now-famous Orgasma series, having played the major character of Queen Tongue I've screwed in my place in sci-fi history, and have therefore invited invitations to many sci-fi conventions.

Up until now I've refused to go, being a matter of pride and maintaining a shred of self-respect, but when the commune paychecks were recently delayed while Red Bagel tripled his money in Vegas I had a need for green that timed nicely with this year's Nerdophile 2002 Convention in Muncie, Indiana. So I went.

I have to say sci-fi geeks are the best geeks I've ever met, and I don't say that to win them over since I know they have a special place for me in their hearts and magazines. In truth I try to limit the number of geeks I run into so I can sincerely say they're the best I've met. Friendly, polite, ready to describe my flimsy costumes in detail and cite my lines to me better than I knew them at the time, especially since I ad-libbed so much. The director wasn't too strict about following the script, probably because he had lost his own copy.

I always thought of the sci-fi fans out there as hopelessly lonely individuals absorbed in the ridiculous fantasy of worlds that didn't exist while the real world passed them by. Despite the accuracy of that stereotype, I neglected to realize how optimistic, kind, and charming they all are, given a few exceptions that defied all rules to lick the Queen Tongue costume I wore. I have opened up my heart to these sci-fi nerds, and after a quite a few drinks in the bar occasionally flashed my boobs. But I was fortunate for the chance to meet them up close, finally getting to talk with people who are fans of my work and actually know me for something beyond that goofy sitcom and the court trial in the early 90s.

You sci-fi fans are the sweetest guys on earth and I can't wait to see you all again at more conventions and hear more of how I mispronounced well-known planet and galaxy names. You're all the greatest and I love you all like brothers. Got that? Like brothers. Quit asking me out.

º Last Column: I'm Through Trying to Invent New Drugs
º more columns

Call the police, the Better Business Bureau, a lawyer—call somebody because I've just been scammed big-time, folks.

Scholars of the Coleman Dynasty may know that my favorite movie is Pulp Fiction, I've mentioned as much in a recent article in Hollywood Refugee magazine. "But Clarissa," you say, "isn't your favorite movie Cannonball Run 2?" Not since I saw Pulp Fiction last month, pal. Update your weird little shrine or whatever with some current information.

And this is where the scam comes in. I'm just browsing through the video store, minding my own business, looking to buy a copy of Pulp Fiction for my home video collection, which at the time contained some of my previous favorite movies like Little Giants and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turles 2: The Secret of the Ooze. I think Pulp Fiction is my favorite of my favorites movies because when I mentioned it being my favorite movie people don't laugh or ask me if I'm serious. But anyway, it was in this video store the scam-artist I know only as Brian, by the nametag, began to work his scam magic.

When I told him Pulp Fiction was my favorite movie, Brian, by an amazing coincidence (although now that I think about it that might have been part of his scam from the beginning), said it was his favorite, too. He let me in on a little secret—on his arm, the very watch he was wearing was the watch from Pulp Fiction, and it was priceless.

You know which watch I'm talking about if you're one of the few people who's seen the movie. I didn't know but Brian reminded me it was the watch the boxer put in his ass to keep the guys from raping him or something. It was the boxer's watch and it had been inside some ass for some reason anyway, it's hard to remember exactly what he was saying because I was so awestruck by the watch. Brian told me it was the favorite thing in the world he owned and he would never sell it except maybe for $250. Guess what? I had $250 right on me at the time and I bought it! Ha!

Or "Ha!" I thought—and said to his face at the time. But I began to have suspicions when I wore the watch to work the next day and nobody noticed it, even big Pulp Fiction fan Ted Ted. I told Rok Finger it was the watch from the movie and he called be a goddamn liar. I tried to prove it by going to resident Expert-on-Everything Griswald Dreck, and he said that the watch in Pulp Fiction was not digital, and the watch I was wearing didn't smell like it had been in anybody's ass, though it was possible it had been taken from a stomach or lower intestines.

To say I was mad was an understatement. I went back to the video store and it was like Ocean's Eleven or something when I asked to see Brian and the girl at the desk said there was no Brian working there. I realized I had been conned from day one. The manager said the girl was wrong and Brian was just off that day, but I tend to think the girl is right. They knew who I was, they knew I had $250, and the pulled the big heist on me and left me with a good-for-nothing digital stomach-watch worth maybe $20, if I don't mention the stomach part. Leave it to me to get burned on buying Hollywood memorabilia in a video store.

I'm not bitter, except about losing the money. That which does not kill me gives me filler for a column, I always say. Still, I should get rid of this watch as quick as I can, it's starting to give me a wrist rash.

º Last Column: I've Just Done My First DVD Commentary
º more columns