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The Inner Monologue of Herman Cain Waiting His Turn at a GOP Debate

What is this, number 10? Is this the tenth debate? I need to check with my assistant. I think this is ten. Why am I not president yet? Didn’t I win 9 times already? I need to debate Barack Obama to win, that’s what I need. Think that’s how I become president. Win the debate because people call in and pick me after Simon Cowell tells me I debated better. That’s a funny word – debated. Debated. Rebated. Hebated. Masturbated. Ha. I’m going to write that on my little notepad here, show it to Larry later. Is his name Larry? What is my assistant’s name?

They’re introducing everyone now. What the hell kind of name is Mitt? Mitten? Is it like a mitten? Back in college we used to call vagina mitt. Pudenda. Debated. Pudenda. Pudding. I like banana pudding. Banana’s a good fruit. It’s tropical but it’s not tangy like so many fruits, it settles the stomach. Mitt looks like a banana. Boring as shit. But good boring. He’s a good man. He’s an asshole, but a good man. A good asshole. I’m going to let him manage one of my stores when this is all over.

Newt. Now there’s a funny name. Newt. Newt and Mitt Go to the Fair. If I wrote a kid’s book, that’d be it. Newt and Mitt. That could be a porno, too. Newt in the mitt. Hey baby, touch my newt. I’m not going to write that down, some asshole will think it’s sexual harassment. Every damn thing I say now is sexual harassment. I’ll have the rump roast – harassment. Keep me abreast of the situation – harassment. I want to call your vagina a mitt – harassment. I hate this country.

Rick Santorum. What kind of parent names their baby Santorum when they know what that means? I saw it on the Googles. Larry showed it to me. Now that’s harassment. I juggle one titty just to gauge buoyancy and I’m the devil, little Ricky over here is king of an anal lubricant empire and no one gives a damn. Racist is what that is. Blame the black man. Let the white man be a sick little piggy, but not me. Racism.

Michele Bachmann. Lord save me from talking to that crazy white woman today. I know were not allowed to use that word any more, but I think she might be retarded. Clinically. It’s OK to say if it’s clinical, isn’t it? If you’re a clinical retard, you should have language protection, we can’t just walk around all the clinical retards and pretend they’re normal like the rest of us, we need to be able to let other people know they’re dealing with a clinical retard, it’s only prudent. Maybe we can call them Clinnies. I’ll ask Larry later on what he thinks of that. Herman Cain wants to protect Clinnies, keep them in rooms with lost of padding, give them forks with the sharp ends covered in rubber so they don’t stab their faces at dinner time. Lord knows I’ve seen it a thousand times in my restaurant.

Oh, Rick Perry. You sad sack. I owe that man a fruit basket or a canned ham. Pulled my ass out of the fire with his magnificent brain fart at that last debate. I could have put my penis right on this lectern after that and he still would have been the talk of the town. In fact…no. No, I’ll stay zipped up tonight. Don’t want to temp fate. Herman Cain’s no dummy. Keep the penis in your pants until you get in the White House. Then you can glaze more donuts than a Krispy Kreme. I made that joke up myself. Heh heh heh.

God, I love me some boobies. I just…I love those boobies. This debate shit is wearing me down. Making my soul tired. My brain tired. And my feet. These shoes, they’re uncomfortable. My feet are tried. Introduce me already Stone Phillips, you son of a bitch. Are you Stone Phillips? Brian Williams? Wolf Blitzer? Y’all look the same to me anyway. Moderators, I mean, not white people. Some white people are gingers, I can tell them apart. Look like a pack of fruits. Like Bobo. I should call them all Bobos. Bobo’s Boobies. That’d be something.

Oh, it’s my turn now. What’d Anderson Cooper just say? Goddamnit. Ah well, I’ll just wing it.

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