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Last night, a friend of mine hosted a small gathering in celebration of two occasions: An event where individuals are made to reveal their breasts in exchange for promises of multicolored jewels, and an event where individuals are made to reveal their political preferences in exchange for promises of change, progress, stimulation, 25 years experience in the private sector, Chuck Norris, hope, and tax refunds. My friend hoped to bridge the divide between the two seemingly unrelated events by encouraging the moderate to heavy consumption of Coors Light.
When I arrived, many party-goers held sheets of paper informing them how to better become intoxicated based on verbal and visual cues from the Cable News Network. Some wore beads. On the television, a permanent graphic read “BREAKING NEWS.” Neon lines spun from Wolf Blitzer’s fingertips and onto intricate maps of the contiguous United States.
Soon, an intoxicated woman approached me. She bore a tray of oven-warmed delicacies decorated with miniature American Flags. “WANT SOME FRIED SHIT?” the woman inquired. “WANT SOME FRIED SHIT?” she repeated. “TAKE SOME FRIED SHIT.” I plucked some fried shit by the flag and transferred it to a paper plate, also decorated with an American Flag. This satisfied her.
The woman settled on a chair to watch the news break. ROMNEY WINS UTAH, explained the television. MCCAIN WINS ARIZONA. TORNADOES HIT TENNESSEE. Neon lines spun from a meteorologist’s fingertips onto intricate representations of weather patterns.
“I ATE TOO MUCH SPINACH QUICHE,” the intoxicated woman explained to the television.
“Maybe you drank too much spinach quiche,” one man offered.
“I AM GOING TO SIT ON THE COUCH,” countered the woman.
She sat on the couch. “TONIGHT, I AM GOING TO SLEEP WITH YOU,” she informed the hostess. “I AM GOING TO SLEEP WITH YOU IN YOUR BED.”
Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton took Arizona, Arkansas, California, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York, Oklahoma, and Tennessee. Barack Obama took Alabama, Alaska, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, New Mexico, North Dakota, and Utah. Wolf Blitzer felt each state with his magic fingers.
I grew tired. As I moved to leave, I found the intoxicated woman standing alone. Her gaze had moved from the television set to a full-length mirror. She stared into it deeply. Her tray of fried shit sat, neglected, on an adjacent table.
The hostess approached the intoxicated woman and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. The intoxicated woman intended to sleep with the hostess, in her bed, at the evening’s close. “Are you doing okay? Can I get you anything?” asked the hostess.
“MORE,” the woman replied simply. “MORE.”