Hello and welcome to the twelfth edition of McSweeney’s Internet Substackency, the Substack of McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, a humor and satire website run by McSweeney’s Publishing.
So, do you have Election Fever yet? Have you ever had an Election Fever? Wait, is Election Fever actually a thing? Do people other than Dana Bash, David Muir, and that guy with the khaki pants on MSNBC get stoked about everyone voting on our country’s political future?
Our presidential elections always fall the same year as the Summer Olympics, so when it comes to fevers, Olympic Fever seems to be really where it’s at. We’ve mentioned here before how we succumbed to that. That’s a fun and good kind of fever. It has a great theme song, too.
Election Fever, on the other hand, if it exists, is probably way more of a drag. It’s likely very uncomfortable, stressful, and itchy. We have no clue what its theme song is, but when we close our eyes, all we hear is the chant the Wicked Witch of the West’s foot soldiers sing in The Wizard of Oz.
For what it’s worth, we’re feeling uncomfortable and stressed out about this year’s election, so perhaps we are suffering from its fever. Plus, the thought of editing another four years of Trump satire makes us break out in hives. And now that Wicked Witch Foot Soldiers’ chant is blaring in our heads. Ugh.
Alright, we’re off to take our temperature, here are the links…
Responding to a question about the border, Harris smiles and pulls out a fishing rod, “I’m going to invite you to attend one of Donald Trump’s rallies,” she says, baiting the hook with a tiny dangling television tuned to Bravo. “He’ll talk about characters like Hannibal Lecter and windmills causing cancer to small crowds, and people leave these rallies early out of exhaustion.” She casts the TV so that it hangs just above Trump’s head. He jumps for it, but she pulls it away. Clearly agitated, he exclaims, “No one goes to her rallies! She doesn’t have any friends, and no one likes her, and my dad bought my whole birthday party, and you have to come, or else he’ll put you in jail.” Harris stares directly at Trump, smiles, and recasts. Trump, frenzied, says, “In Springfield, they’re eating the dogs! They’re eating the cats! They’re eating your pets!”
Relive the whole bonkers debate by following this link and reading the rest of this recap.
8:00 a.m. I’m running late, so I have no time for breakfast. Your neighbor’s wife’s cousin’s karate instructor’s cat, Minnie, will have to wait. I dress, grab a cereal bar, and dash out the door.
A WORD OR TWO FROM OUR STORE…
Hark. Behold The McSweeney’s Advent Calendar: a treasury of the very best holiday humor writing from McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, festooned throughout with holiday transmissions from across the vast McSweeney’s literary empire. Inside this exquisite holiday wonder cabinet of twenty-four gem-like minibooks (illustrated by acclaimed artist Sophy Hollington), you’ll find such luminous titles as Sun Tzu: The Art of the War on Christmas, This Woman in Labor Is Going to Love My Drumming, and Ayn Rand Writes Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, as well as comics, poetry, stories, art, letters, lists, harangues, and surprises aplenty waiting to be torn open and discovered for your holiday merriment.
The McSweeney’s Advent Calendar is like nothing we’ve ever made before and is near-guaranteed to be your new favorite way to count down the days of December—or any other twenty-four-day span in need of daily festive guffaws and a light kindling of the spirit.
QUESTION 4: The news of the train crash is being broadcast at a pizza parlor where a handsome-ish math teacher is seated. Mark, Evelyn, and eight of their friends are at a table. They order three pizzas, and each pizza has eight slices. If everyone at the table eats two slices, how many slices are left? If it’s more than zero, then it shouldn’t be a big deal if the math teacher comes over, sits down, and grabs a slice, right? So explain why the math teacher is getting yelled at by Mark to “get out of here, freak” and “move on, Bozo—it’s not a trial separation, the divorce is final, and Evelyn is with me now.”
And here’s this week’s BLAST FROM THE PAST, a classic Tendency piece from our archives…
You’re a man. You’re into man stuff, like weed wackers, sports that cause brain damage, and getting hired by your dad’s golf friends. But it’s autumn. And something feels different. With each falling leaf, you feel a strange desire building in the area beneath your left pectorals. You think lady-people sometimes call this area the “heart.” You long for flavor infused with cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and—could it be—allspice?
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Will the CDC mail out tests for Election Fever?