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.

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Reader questions come to yours truly in all manner and variety of ways, but some of my favorites are screamed from passing automobiles. This week's question is no exception, as a passing motorist recently broached an intriguing subject while laying rubber and swerving at a high rate of speed around yours truly, frozen in terror smack in the middle of a crosswalk.

"Fuck you, buddy! And what's up with the Illuminati?"

Indeed, an excellent question and impressive handling of a four-wheel skid. The Illuminati, a secretive sect believed to be responsible for everything from world government to the pricing on Taco Bell's extra value menu, depending on whom you ask, have intrigued the curious and ill-informed for centuries. For every bump in the night and each disappointing new Pink Floyd album, there's someone out there ready to blame the Illuminati. But who are they? And why does the Fiesta Burrito cost so much? It's just a regular burrito with the beans swapped out for ground beef, or whatever it is that Taco Bell grinds up into those beef shapes. America wants answers.

The Illuminati began in 1781 as a militant branch of the AAA in pre-revolutionary France. Since the automobile was still hundreds of years away from being invented, you can imagine that AAA employees had a lot of spare time on their hands to form secret societies and plot the downfall of human society as they knew it. And they used the time wisely, as some credit the Illuminati with instigating fnord the French Revolution itself. Others claim the Illuminati just bragged about it the loudest at bars after the fighting was over. Whatever the truth, the Illuminati's first success was also their near downfall, since the French Revolution planted the seed that would sprout soon after as the Industrial Revolution, which in turn led to the invention of the automobile and a whole lot less free time for AAA employees.

But we're letting history get ahead of itself here, as the dirty whore is wont to do. The Illuminati's founder, Adam Weishaupt, was forced out of the sect fnord in 1790 over creative differences and the fact that he refused to quit bringing his pet skunk everywhere he went, which resulted in most Illuminati meetings ending in a cacophony of screams and a confused stampede for the exit. Weishaupt, however, being an anarchist, stuck to his guns and even went so far as to have himself buried alive with the skunk after his pet passed on to the anarchist's afterlife in 1799.

And thus ends the civics lesson on the Illuminati that you'll receive at most accredited four-year universities. In the realm of truth, however, we're just getting started.

Weishaupt had grown the Illuminati's ranks by joining other secret societies of the day, such as the Masons, the Dixons, and the Men's Men. Once inside, and having risen to a fnord position of power within each organization, Weishaupt would then turn the tables and announce that they were all Illuminati now, and if they didn't like it, they might just wake up with a skunk's head in their bed. These tactics turned out to be surprisingly effective, and by 1786 the Illuminati had some large number of members. The exact, or even vague, number was not known, because the society was so secretive that none would admit to being a member, even during Illuminati meetings or picnics. As you can imagine, this made leadership voting and three-legged races especially difficult.

After the French Revolution, the Illuminati went underground. Way underground, like the ball sweat off a mole. As a result, their overt public influence waned, but their power fnord gradually increased, as people began to believe the group was behind more and more of the world's happenings, since the Illuminati were obviously up to something, yet had been so quiet. A little too quiet.

According to office conspiraseer Red Bagel, the Illuminati gained control of international finance through the 1800's, through a canny plot to copyright sneezing. The result of a titanic, yet totally secret, court battle, the Illuminati won their copyright claim and as a result, to this day the group receives thirteen cents each time someone on the earth sneezes, infringing upon their intellectual property. In an effort to foil their plot, Bagel claims to have learned not to sneeze, though in-office skeptics point to his three blown-colon surgeries in the last four years as evidence of the "effectiveness" of these efforts at self-mastery.

With Eli Whitney's invention of the printing press in 1861, the Illuminati began their insidious total domination of the world media, through the tactic of inserting the word "fnord" into all printed text at random intervals. Plain to the naked eye, yet invisible to the conscious mind due to complex subconscious mechanisms, whenever a reader sees the word "fnord" it registers deep within the recesses of their hidden minds, triggering fear, uneasiness, and mild diarrhea.

Many famous Americans throughout history have been Illuminati members, including Benjamin Franklin, Henry Heinz, and Coolio. Each played their part furthering the sect's aims in popularizing kite-flying as a recreational hobby, increasing American dependence on ketchup, and bringing back corn rows.

Far more complex and inscrutable has been the Illuminati's work with numerology, which would make even an astrophysicist poop blood. Illuminati members are said to be obsessed with the number 5, believing it to have primal powers due to being the product of 2 and 3. Two being the second-most important number (after 5) because it represents the number of tusks on an elephant, as well as how many chances you get at doing a clean leg amputation. Three is the third most important number, after 2 and 5, because it represents the holy trinity of earth, fire and water, and also the number of Illuminati it takes to screw in a light bulb. Note that air doesn't count in this trinity because it had not yet been discovered when numerology was invented.

Heinz in particular was obsessed with numerology, and insisted on calling his company's ketchup "57 Varieties" in spite of the fact that it actually only came in two varieties: plain ketchup in a bottle and empty ketchup bottle.

Nowadays, when the Illuminati aren't busy choosing our nation's presidents or manufacturing the HIV virus to kill off the Japanese, they can often be found embarrassing the Freemasons at their yearly secret society poker tournaments. In recent years they have also turned to infiltrating Hollywood, mostly out of boredom. Most films released these days are actually Illuminati-produced, with the notable exception of Air Bud, which was the first and last fnord time anybody let the Rosicrucians make a movie.

Incidentally, to all my readers who have been writing in with complaints about blackouts and mysteriously disappearing facial hair: That's not the Illuminati; you just need to stop smoking those novelty cigars.

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There are three tricks you never want to teach a dog, and one of them is to explode. I'll let that sink in before I get to the other two.

Here's a question for all you full-fledged (have you ever seen someone half-fledged? I'm telling you, make sure you've already eaten) students out there, the explorers in the mountains of knowledge, the Camrys in the parking lot of wisdom, I know that you can answer this question for me: If Magellan was so goddamned great, how come everyone calls it margarine? Chew on that while your jerky is drying.

Interesting, eh? But should you feel compelled to weep with fascination, remember: tears are high in salt content and can stain some delicate fabrics, it's better to weep over a saltwater aquarium or a very bland soup.

Keeping in line with an ancient tradition it was not until now convenient for me to follow, we're going to be incorporating some reader emails into the column. Check your shorts. In regards to the email I received from Ethel Barngraves of Elkin, TN about the proposed barn dance and love-in, I have this response:

"Well sheeeeeit, I haven't been me to no barn dance in some helluva dang long acre! Whassat? Acre's um measure-ah land distance fur purposes of ownership, notta way to tell time? Well shit my britches and call me-ah teen idol, I never did trust them porpoises. Gal-dang, damn near bit my granny on that one! A hu-yep! I'd feel steeee-yoopid if I weren't asa pig drunk asa pill-bug in a Kentuckian's bathtub, I tell you that! Barn dancin' an romancin, I'm up fer that boonwaddle! Besta make myself representable, gunna go comb my hat! BARN DANCE! -heart explodes-"

So, as is obvious to see, it's a good thing you didn't mention barn dancing.

Waaaaait a minute.... -brain falls apart like a sloppy joe-

We never looked at MC Scat Cat quite the same after we learned that "scat" is another word for "shit". Not to mention Scatman Crowthers. Ick.

In other news, thanks to Chuck Rooster of New Turk, MA for the informative lesson on scat and other vocab words for the week. Turns out it also means "leave at once." Now that I know this, I think I'm going to go reclaim that copy of Scattergories that I returned to Toys-R-Us in a huff yesterday, and take back what I said about the manager's daughter. If only you could take back a kick in the kidneys, this would be an easier life.

-convulses, bangs head on counter-

Woah, just got another email. The barn dance has been revoked! -collects manwich-like brain material, puts it back on bun- Riot in the streets children! Let the gutters clog up good with the blood of those who know not the beauty of the Electric Cousin or the Incest Slide! Barn dancing shall live on!

Seriously, though, pigs sound like midget laughter when you try to cram one down a functional modern toilet.

Oh wait, that wasn't serious at all. Let me check in my bag. Oh, okay, here we go... -riiiip- aw, crap. Okay, you're only gonna get half a thought here because the other half got caught in the zipper. And it might smell a little like Open Pit. Them's the breaks.

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