What is Wrong With the Presidential Campaigns?

Oct 28, 2008 by Carl Megill

Well, it’s election time again, but something is different this year. Something is missing. Something that is so obvious that it’s as plain as the nose on the candidate’s faces (which always seems to grow like Pinocchio’s at election time.) The candidates are actually talking about themselves and not about their opponents. They are telling the American public what they intend to do, if elected. They are talking like they have an actual platform. What is going on with that?

Where is all the bellyaching that we used to have to listen to? Where is all the dirt and back stabbing and mudslinging? It used to be all the rage. Where is the list of campaign promises that will never be kept? It used to be the staple of any campaign.

Bring back the old days where there was enough mud slung in the presidential campaigns that you could rebuild New Orleans with adobes.

And it wasn’t just the presidential campaign, the senatorial and congressional races were so busy heaving and receiving mud from each other, their campaign headquarters planned on holding wrestling matches every Friday night.

I always found it interesting as to how certain dirt was dug up on some of those unfortunate souls. Like the congressman accused of registering himself and several barnyard animals into a Comfort Inn. Or, the senator charged with dancing the lambada, in Central Park, inebriated beyond belief, wearing only mascara and a sampling of the fall collection from Victoria’s Secret.

Of course, all the accusations are unfounded. But who comes up with them? Who has that vivid of an imagination? And, most important, is there any money in it?

If there is, then let’s spread some of the wealth this way. I can come up with some really irreverent, bogus, unsubstantiated droll that could fit almost any candidate. Let’s see. Alright, how about this? A Midwestern congressman was caught smoking an unidentified substance, possibly green timothy, or recently harvested alfalfa, behind the MacNeil outhouse on County Road 27.

Then, there’s the Southern senator seen sneaking out of the woods where an illegal still was found making contraband Kool-Aid.

Or, the California congressman caught dining in some sleazy dive with a date, not his wife, who had a suspicious looking air valve on her neck.

Let’s make it a bit more “tabloidish.” What New England congresswoman tried claiming an enormous amount of electronic surveillance equipment, on her taxes, to spy on MacDonalds employees who opposed her bill to legalize baklava on non-Greek holidays.

Yes, it seems there is money to be made in the tolerance of human frailty. After all, aren’t we all looking for perfection in an, otherwise, quite imperfect world? Since we spend so much time expecting the inexcusable, let’s capitalize on it. I think I could be pretty good at being a “sludgemonger.” So, come on candidates, let’s get in contact.

Now, where did I leave off? Okay, how about this? The irresponsible senator who voted against the death penalty for yellow jackets that sting Pamela Anderson.

What a country!

After working as a deejay at a New Jersey radio station, where Carl Megill was given free reign to write commercial parodies and a 64 episode comedy soap opera, he branched out into the wonderful world of writing sitcoms. Although none ever sold, he did win, or placed high, in several script writing contests. This included first place in the TVWriter.com competition for an “Everybody Loves Raymond” script. He also enjoyed winning a playwriting competition for a comedy entitled, “You’re Never Too Old,” which was produced on stage to favorable reviews. Four of his short plays have also been produced.

His only screen credit is as a staff writer for the Seattle based sketch comedy program “Night Shift.” It’s also his only credit at imdb. His humor column, “The Mind of Megill,” has appeared in print and on the internet. He has also written and performed stand up comedy at area comedy clubs. He enjoys writing, sports and referring to himself in the third person.