Long after the last voter has been reinterred in Cook County, and scant milliseconds before Al Franken quite possibly steals the Minnesota senate race in the most egregious example of voter fraud, ballot manipulation, and hubris in my lifetime, the final, final ballots must be cast.
I speak, of course, of the Hewitt Awards, one of Andi Sullivan's almost clever by two-thirds annual awards for opinions that fall outside the scope of his more, ah, nuanced approach to politics.
The Hewitt Award, named after the absurd partisan fanatic, Hugh Hewitt, is given for the most egregious attempts to label Barack Obama as un-American, alien, treasonous, and far out of the mainstream of American life and politics.
As there is no "Who's Trig's Mommy?" poll at Sully's (because we all know it's Patti Smith), I exhort you to cast your vote for Velociman, based upon the intemperate and galvanic post that led to my nomination.
I'm currently 2nd in a very strong field of ten. As I believe I am the only nominee who does not opine for filthy lucre, you may say it was easier for me to be so impetuous and overwrought. Perhaps so. I did not proffer myself for nomination, however, therefore the playing field is level in my estimation.
The very hot Victoria Jackson leads me by a few percentage points, and while I am reluctant to beat Victoria out of anything other than a very skimpy teddy, I think she'll understand if she ultimately loses out to a verifiable loose cannon, a peacock cracker who suffers pinstrokes of adulation when he reminesces upon the Senator's singular ways. I likewise pledge upon the memory of my clinically insane Aunt Merle that should I indeed surpass Victoria in the ballot stuffing counting, she may beat me out of a teddy of her choosing. The 16-footVelociwhip is at her disposal.
Make my daughters proud, Intrepids. Make me proud. I need a feather in my fistula.
And someone research what the award, should I win it, actually entails. I'm hoping it's a weekend in P-Town. I'm all about the attention, you know. Perhaps a parade float, upon which I am crucified like a Filipino Easter excoriatee. That would be sweet beyond definition.