The cure: a rather large sandwich

The candidates: a meatball parmagiana hero and a turkey hero with melted provolone

Excerpts from their stump speeches: MEATBALL: My fellow Americans, I come before you with two simple words: Eat me. I am asking you to put your faith in me, in the simple fact that when you take a bite of me, you’ll understand the strength of my conviction. Also, you will understand the taste of a kick-ass marinara sauce. I get this from my father, god rest his soul, who told me that I need to remind myself who I am every single day. And, my friends, I’m going to tell you exactly who I am. I’m a meatball! TURKEY: The other candidate tries to pass himself off as being “what you crave.” He claims to be a “hearty meal.” He claims to “cause babies and serial killers to cower in fear of his rich, tangy meatiness.” And, let’s be clear, this is probably true. But what he’s conveniently leaving out is his record. Remember the last time you ate a meatball hero and it sat like a lump inside you for five hours? He’d like you to forget about that. Remember that time when you stayed up all night dealing with heartburn? Remember when you cleared an entire room with the aftereffects of a meatball hero? Of course you do, but he’s pretending that you do not. What he’s offering you is simple: Immediate tastebud joy followed by many, many hours of pain and shame. I am offering you a ticket out. Choose turkey.

The action: The meatball hero jumps out to a big, early lead in the dumb, hungry electorate in Sellers’ stomach. It’s a fine strategy, as the stomach commands a whopping 150 electoral votes. But the signs we’re seeing from the turkey hero should give its supporters hope. Its campaign is attacking the area around the stomach — the spleen, the liver, the kidneys. These are the real battlegrounds of this election. So it’s close. Right now — with the skin, the body’s largest organ, leading the pro-turkey charge — it’s looking like a virtual dead heat. In fact, things are shaping up exactly as we predicted. If things stay the way they are in the lesser organs, it’s going to come down to — surprise, surprise — Sellers’ brain. And from the looks of it, we could be waiting on this decision all afternoon. Sellers is clearly of two minds here: He knows the turkey is the best thing for him, but goddamit, it’s a motherfucking meatball! This could take a while.

The result: Meatball parmagiana hero. Like the brain ever listens to reason.


Take a wild fucking guess.