John Montgomery Presents This Week's	February 26, 2000	Creep Logo by Alan Fraser
	George W Bush, Al Gore and Bill Bradley
	Pandering Presidential Prostitutes

These are dangerous times, kids. By the early months of a presidential election year, the minor candidates who never had a chance to be elected (Dan Quayle, Gary Bauer, etc.) have long since dropped out to pursue other ways of proving what colossal losers they are. They're no longer our problem. But keep your eyes, ears and wallets on red alert for the guys who remain. They can smell the Rose Garden now. At this point, they'll do anything, say anything and suck up to anyone if they think it will get them closer to their goal. They'll sell themselves down the river to the highest bidder and unfortunately for us, we all get thrown into the rapids without a raft or a life preserver. This week, we saw enough political ass-kissing to give us all chapped cheeks.

Let's start with Junior. George W Bush raised $70 million for this race and was supposed to cruise to the nomination. What qualifications did he have? "I think he can win and I liked his Dad," was the extent of the praise he got from his early supporters. Some of them thought he was his Dad. George managed to blow out most of his competitors using only his family name and money, without displaying any convictions about anything. Kinda like Dad. There was only one thing the Bush coronation juggernaut didn't count on: John McCain.

When John swamped George in the New Hampshire primary, Junior and his boys went into full scale panic. The light went on for those who had blindly contributed the $70 mil. "By George, this guy's an empty suit! What do we do now?" Faced with the upcoming South Carolina primary and the prospect of being embarrassed again, George went a-pandering to where the action was: the Christian right. Down in South Carolina, if you want the seal of approval from that crowd, you have to seal your lips to the butts of some truly vile sleazeballs. George's first stop was Bob Jones University for a speech and a convenient loss of memory regarding that institution's bigoted hatred of blacks and Catholics. Back when Junior's dad was president, Bob Jones III had even called him a "devil" because he had supported cutting off the school's tax exemption for its racist, swinish policies.

"Oh, well, that's politics," Junior explained and then got down on his hands and knees for his next trick, Christian Coalition leader Pat Robertson. George promised Pat he'd support the Republican platform's no-exceptions plank on abortion and Pat came through with the votes. George won handily in the South Carolina primary and immediately went dancing into the night up to Michigan, glancing once over his shoulder to say, "Thanks Bob and Pat, see you next time I need your help!"

But George was about to learn an important political lesson: When you hang around with skunks, you're gonna come home stinkin'. The muck stuck. In Michigan, Junior had to spend his entire campaign defending himself for selling out to the yahoos. To make things worse, Pat didn't go quietly back into his cage, but sent a recorded, hysterical phone call to thousands of Republicans exhorting them to hate John McCain just as much as he does. The only trouble is, nobody likes Pat in Michigan. Most of the people who received Pat's call shrieked in agony as they poked out their eardrums with ice picks, and then promptly went down to the voting booth to vote for John. George got clobbered in the primary, causing him to make a blubbering concession in that whining voice of his: "My brother's Catholic! My sister-in-law's Catholic! I even tried to pick up a black chick one time during a coke party!"

And hey, you Democrats, stop looking so smug. Your guys are also panhandling votes from some pretty slimy sources. Al Gore and Bill Bradley had another one of their debates, which up to now have been as lively as the grandmother on those reunion shows of "The Waltons." But this one was different. They held it in the Apollo Theater in New York City and it was hosted by Harlem's version of Pat Robertson - Al Sharpton. Al Sharpton! The candidates spent the night spouting out their disgust with each other and their devotion for every politically correct, left-wing, liberal cause they could recite to a raucous crowd who were hootin' and hollerin' like they were at low-rent, two-bit brothel. Which they were. Whoever becomes the Republican nominee won't have to come up with any cute ads this fall - he'll only have to run a tape of that debate to walk off with the election.

As for John McCain, he's no angel, either. He's taking campaign money from the same guys he's doing business with in the Senate, and he cozied up to Richard Quinn, another southern racist. But so far, John's whoring hasn't caused him to become permanently bowlegged, like George, Al and Bill. John's biggest problem right now is that he's pissed off the Republican establishment, and that is not a group which is used to being pissed on. John had better get a flack jacket and some bodyguards. If he thought the Hanoi Hilton was tough, wait until those guys get through with him.

We have to endure another eight months of these sluts. Don't get caught without a good supply of K-Y jelly.