ast Wednesday’s final presidential debate left many questions unanswered in the minds of American voters, but not among them was the cockwad status of U.S. citizen Mark Buckles. Despite their numerous policy differences, both President Bush and Democratic challenger John Kerry saw squarely eye to eye on the Buckles issue, presenting a unified vision for a future America where Buckles is clearly a total cockwad.

According to political pundits analyzing the debates for the major networks, Kerry looks kind of like an alien and Bush makes a lot of stupid faces.

Seeking to differentiate his Buckles position from that of his challenger, Bush accused Kerry of changing his mind about whether or not Mark Buckles was a cockwad, citing Kerry’s infamous “I called Buckles a cockwad before I didn’t� quote from last year.

“Unlike that Belgian motherfucker over there,� Bush said with his trademark uninformed bravado. “I knew Mark Buckles was a cockwad from the start. And America needs strong leaders who know a Buckles when they see one.�

Meanwhile, Kerry accused Bush of refusing to admit his mistake in branding Buckles a cockwad before all available evidence had been collected, and merely going on the word of Secretary of State Colin Powell, who has personal reasons for his feelings about Buckles.

“Mark Buckles is not the cockwad that George Bush promised America,� explained Kerry. “We were sold a bill of goods. Yes, Mark is definitely a cockwad. But not the king-sized cockwad that this administration painted him to be, when they needed your support to go public about this young man.�

“And as for my cockwad stance,� Kerry elaborated. “At first I gave Buckles the benefit of the doubt, as I’d like to think any strong leader would. But once all the available evidence had been collected, it became clear that Mark is indeed a cockwad.�

Kerry seemed to struggle with his usual problem of talking out of both sides of his mouth during the debate Wednesday, attempting to appease liberals who think Buckles got a raw deal as well as centrist Democrats and undecideds who believe that Buckles is a cockwad, but still think Bush rushed to judgment too quickly in the matter.

Partisans on both sides shared their hysterical reactions with anyone who would listen, even before the debates had ended.

“Kerry is a God among men and his penis is lovely,� explained breathless Democratic partisan Dane Philsley when asked about his candidate’s debate performance.

“George Bush proved once and for all that he farts wisdom into a can for the world to huff,� disagreed Republican partisan Carla Dennis, apparently believing this to be a compliment.

Regardless of who came out ahead in the debates, both candidates have likely lost the vote of Buckles, who could not be reached for comment. Some pundits have argued that Buckles was the real loser of Wednesday’s debate, since whoever wins the November election, Mark Buckles will spend the next four years known as an unmistakable cockwad. What is unknown as of yet is how much of a boost Buckles’ supporters will give third-party candidate Ralph Nader, who has gone on record as saying he’s sure Buckles has his redeeming qualities.

According to a CNN.com instant poll taken immediately following the debates, Mark Buckles sucks balls.

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I'm serious, take a look around you. Do you see anybody having a good time? No fair answering if you're in Cuba or some central-American country. You people live life on a whole different level, and it's easy to have fun 24-7 when the value of a human life is on par with a bag of Cheetos. I'm talking about folks here on the white side of the world, the one noticeably light on the conspicuous enjoyment of not being dead.

When's the last time you saw some happy motherfucker tearing down the Vegas strip with the top down, firing a machine gun randomly into the air while the X-ed out girl scout behind the wheel struggles to keep it on the road? Not size last July, I don't get to Vegas as often as I used to.

But answer me this, when's the last time you saw a married father of four welding runners to the bottom of the minivan, and taking the whole family out for a sledding ride down the biggest hill in town and across the lake that may or may not be frozen all the way across? Hardly ever happens any more. My dad used to pull that shit constantly, one time it wasn't even winter. Back then people knew how to make a game of life and death. You ever see films from back then? Everybody smoked, they didn't care if they lived or died. When you were pregnant you smoked more, because you were smoking for two. And the cars back then! Seat belts? Why would you want to be strapped down to a flaming hunk of metal when the family in the other car got the ride of their lives, finally seeing what it's like to fly? Cars back then were awesome, they drove fast, idled heavy and stopped infrequently. Their idea of a safety feature back then was making the cigarette lighter hole narrow enough a kid could only fit two or three fingers in there. No need to burn off all a kid's fingers just to teach 'em a lesson about curiosity, you know what I'm sayin?

Hell, back then a windshield was an option. If your parents were cheap it meant you got an unobstructed view of the road, and it was like having a dashboard that was four feet deep. Do you have any idea how much shit you could fit on a dashboard like that? Lunch, dinner, a toaster, entire battalions of army men, and more than enough bottle rockets to shoot at any oncoming cars you might see on the drive. The hood was like a wonderland for kids back then. Nowadays what do kids get? A GameBoy and some motion sickness pills. Pardon me if I don't keel over with envy.

You know what people did back then if they were depressed or had emotional problems? They sure as hell didn't piss away the hours in some hazy Prozac twilight like they do now. No, back then if you had a problem, you hit the bottle, and you hit it hard. You ever hear stories about somebody's dad getting ripped on Prozac and tearing around the neighborhood in reverse, all four doors open, lassoing stray neighborhood dogs just for the shit of it? Of course you don't. Doesn't happen. But that kind of shit was happening nightly in my house growing up. Those were the days.

Nowadays if you want to have a good time and not spend the weekend in jail over it, you practically have to go down to Mexico with a trunk full of stun grenades and one of those guns that shoots nets like they use on Rush Limbaugh when he goes on one of his painkiller sprees. Down there, they don't give a shit. It's like a throwback to simpler times here in the States, back when people were too busy keeping the family alcoholics from getting everybody killed to worry about what you were up to, with your sneaking around at night and painting crosswalks on the freeway and whatnot.

Have we really made progress in all these years? Are you shitting me? Mexico's a reliable supply of drinking water away from overtaking us as the place to live for free-thinkers and the bold of heart. Don't say I didn't warn you when you're seeing whitebread families from Iowa on the news, getting caught trying to sneak across the desert into Mexico in the dead of night. I give it about five years.

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"Signs, signs, everywhere a sign—and some big guy with a wooden stick to enforce 'em."

I'm eating at this fancy-pants restaurant the other day when the waiter says, "Hey! You can't bring food in here." I thought it was some kind of conundrum or something, like if you can't bring food in then how do all the people get food at their tables. But he was just being a prick because I didn't want to pay their rip-off prices.

I was trying to be all cool about it, so I tell him I'll take a table and eat their food then, but he tells me you need a jacket and tie to eat there. I tell him I got one of each, but he wanted to see them. Which is how they keep people out, I guess. Who's going to know they want to see that stuff before they go out? I wouldn't have thought to take that with me wherever I go.

The more I thought about it, the more I noticed there's all kind of dumb shit like that meant to keep us out of places. Like when places tell you you can't get served without shirt or shoes, then you have one but they always point out you don't have the other. My girlfriend and I went to a place once, I won't name the restaurant, but we went there to eat and I ordered a Big Mac, and one of us had shoes, the other a shirt, but these guys were just assholes about it. Saying the smell of my feet made everyone nauseous and they wouldn't give us any food until she put a shirt on. Eventually we talked them down to a small fries and we didn't even have to pay for it, but it just bugged me that all these rules gotta cramp your style.

Technically, she wasn't my girlfriend. I mean, technically, we were handcuffed together so that's got to count for something, but how do you convey that when you say "my female friend" or something gay like that? If it had been something kinky I could say "my lover" or "my sex slave," but we were just in the same squad car together after the bachelor party. Sure, I could tell people all that stuff, include all the details of breaking out of the car and spending two days hanging out together at her cousin's trailer, but that takes a lot more time and "girlfriend" seems to say the same thing.

Speaking of which, what do they mean in all these personal ads when they tell you what they're looking for. "No losers," shit like that. Hey, I may be a loser by way of never having won anything, but you'll always be a tiny print ad. "No fatties," "non-smoker," "honest," "must have job"—why don't you just ask for a blond Greek god who shits silver dollars? If an honest, non-smoking, athletic man with a job did need a girlfriend, why would he sit around all day reading the personal ads? Unless he's making fun of them, like me and my fat smoking friends do.

Oh, that reminds me. There was this hot, blonde lady wearing one of them Gucci bags or something on the subway—this was Tuesday, maybe. Anyhow, I was all making eye contact with you and everything, and you was holding your purse all close and everything. Was it just me, or did we have like a serious thing going on? Write me here at the commune. Send a photo if you can, preferably a bikini shot.

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