Presidential Endorsement: Chemotherapy

Editor’s note: Like any newspaper, The FluffingtonPost maintains a board of aging “wise men” (and one woman) who pontificate with glib certainty on issues of the day. Here is their 2016 presidential endorsement:

FluffingtonPost editorial board presidential endorsement
As the two-year-long presidential campaign wheezes and coughs toward the finish line with all the freshness of a pair aging Baby Boomers, The Fluffington Post faces the same difficult question as scores of newspapers nationwide.

Is it “Who do we endorse?” Heck no. Far more difficult is “How do we justify running such a low readership feature like an endorsement when our sold advertising has shrunk to PBS levels?”

After all, most people will read our endorsement online and the Google Ad revenues will barely pay for even four shared grande Starbucks for our Editorial Board. And they only agreed to complete their deliberations outside paid business hours if we provided free coffee. (God, why did we get rid of that Kuerig coffee pod system in the last downsizing?)

But we are committed to making a presidential endorsement if only to uphold the long, proud newspaper tradition of filling excessive column inches with inexpensive filler. (See our superfluous listings of AMEX stocks and exotic dog-breeding futures*.)

So which near AARP emeritus member should we endorse? On the one hand, we have Hillary Clinton’s familiar, war-like arthritic fist. On the other hand, there’s Donald Trump’s pampered, petulant brat-sized paw. Which hand do we dare raise (gently) in superannuated impersonation of Sylvester Stallone in Rocky VI?

That’s more easily spell-checked than answered. Neither candidate threatens to break the Baby Boomers’ long streak of disappointing presidencies, nor change that D.C. culture of blood-thirsty, power-grabbing, hypocritical partisanship they’ve perfected. Plus Donald and Hillary both see the same Manhattan allergist, who has failed to treat their hyper-sensitivity to discussing any issues in the open air. (For Hillary’s detailed explanation, see Don’t bother with Trump’s site; it’s been linking to Trump Steaks since post-third debate.)

But any endorsement must recognize the desperately sick state of America. Our nation suffers from a cancer that has festered too long and now requires aggressive treatment. Within this forced analogy, Hillary Clinton’s candidacy represents chemotherapy. Maybe it works; probably it doesn’t; but we can still hope it keeps the patient alive until a younger, less compromising and actually useful treatment comes along.

In contrast, Trump represents chemo and no therapy. He’s a gilded Nero with no fiddle. He promises a wall to keep the Vandal hordes out, but he is the horde in wolfish capitalistic clothing. He surely would usher in a new global Dark Age quicker than you can say “all bets are final” at a Trump Casino going-out-of-business weekend spectacular.

So we urge all Americans to opt for chemotherapy. Yes, a Hillary Clinton presidency will lead to certain nausea, vomiting and hair loss, but what other choice do we have? We’ve got cancer, and dammit if we don’t want a chance to walk-a-thon again!

* Sponsored by “Doggie Style Discrete,” the premiere password-protected online magazine for discriminating dog breeders everywhere.

SkitSketchJeff is Jeff Burdick, who wants all future caucuses settled by quick caulk gun competitions on HGTV.

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