Will the real President-Elect please stand up?
Amy Schill
Dazed and Confused
Can you believe this mess? It's a week after Thanksgiving and well, we kind of have a new president but not really because Gore is suing everyone he sees including Mrs. Betty Friedheim of Saginaw, Mich. and her poodle, Tiger. We're almost into December and we're more sure of what bowl the Fighting Irish are going to than which bozo I get to laugh at for the next four years. For those of you who have been living in Cabo for the past month, I'll briefly summarize all the hoopla thus far.
It all started when all the networks got together and decided to ruin the election. First, they called Florida for Gore, giving Mr. Roboto a sizeable lead and apparently causing all West Coast voters to stay home and play Yahtzee. Then, they all took Florida away from Gore, changing the whole dynamic of the election and causing Tim Russert to break his dry-erase board over his knees and weep openly. Dan Rather, as we all know, went completely insane. When all the pundits had exhausted the electoral college debate, Larry King had married and divorced six times and the malt liquor had run out, the networks thought, "Hey, let's give the election to Bush and see what happens!"
We all had to watch Republicans mosh, that's what happened.
After witnessing a few minutes of the moshing and the ensuing GOP rave, complete with glow sticks and education vouchers, I went to bed, like many of us, thinking Bush had won. When I woke up, I discovered that in the course of the night, the networks had given the election to Gore, Bush again, Gore again and finally, to Carson Daly, after which declaring the race too close to call and the #1 video of the week "Country Grammar" by Nelly. In a sad development, Dan Rather announced that the next president of the United States was a tamale.
So here we are, three weeks later. After all the recounts, hand recounts and three games of rock, paper, scissors (paper covers rock, Al), it appears that Bush has won, but with all these court battles, no one really seems satisfied with Decision 2000. In the midst of all of this, Cheney leads Lieberman in heart attacks by a margin of 16 to 0. (I'm sorry, after several hand recounts, Cheney's lead is down to 1).
The longer this process has gone on, the messier it has become, causing the true results to be, probably forever, a mystery. Ballots were thrown out, Floridian retirees are running loose in the streets, someone named Chad caused a load of trouble and in an ironic twist of fate, Bush hid several hundred Gore-Lieberman votes in Al Gore's own lockbox. Florida, previously known only as a producer of evil college football teams, now shares the title of least competent election handling with Oregon, which has yet to realize that there actually was an election. Meanwhile, you just know that Bob Dole is planning some sort of military coup to take over the White House and rename our nation, "Dole Land."
If I've learned anything from this election (besides the chad thing), I've learned that in an election this close, no matter who ends up president half the country is going to be upset and not too convinced of the results. We need a way to decide the presidency absolutely. Both sides have already proposed biased solutions, with the Democrats suggesting a spelling bee and the Republicans suggesting a freestyle dance competition. Rejecting both of these options, I (and the networks, of course), have decided that the best way to decide the election and to make a whole lot of money, is to have Bush and Gore go at it on a three-hour live television special called Survivor II: Palm Beach County. We would strand the candidates in a deserted retirement community, with only a few cans of food, some water and a shuttlecock. After a series of physical challenges, mind games and tribal dances, I predict that Jeff Probst will declare once and for all that the next president of our next great nation will be … Rudy, the crotchety ex-Navy Seal.
Okay, maybe it won't really turn out that way, but it would sure be fun to watch (as long as neither of them got naked.) I guess instead we'll have to watch Gore take everyone and his dependent mother to court, while Bush learns to pronounce "inauguration."
Let freedom ring.
Amy Schill is a sophomore English major. Her column appears every other Thursday.
The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
All Viewpoint Stories for Thursday, November 30, 2000
