John Montgomery Presents This Week's	December 9, 2000	Creep Logo by Alan Fraser
	Lawyers, Guns & Money Creeps
	The Election Becomes Manic-Depressive

I'm not the first person to bring a Warren Zevon quote into this election, but one of his lyrics is the perfect description (and epitaph) for the presidential campaign of 2000:

"Send lawyers, guns and money,
The shit has hit the fan."

First I was frustrated. Election night was an unmitigated disaster for which I hold Bernard Shaw personally responsible. After a few weeks of listening to a constant litany of partisan oratorical manure, I got bored with the whole thing and vowed not to write about it anymore until somebody emerged bloodied and bruised to declare victory. But for the last few days, we've been subjected to a roller coaster ride of political and psychological whiplash that's left us with sore necks and rancid stomachs.

Near the end of last week, the conventional wisdom was that it was all over. The Florida Supreme Court was about to rule that there would be no more recounts and Bush would be the anointed winner. George and his mentor Dick Cheney were all over the TV screens talking about their cabinet and their legislative agenda. Then on Friday, the court surprised everybody, especially George and Dick. "Start the recounts!" they demanded, and soon all those tired senior citizens from the election boards were back inspecting stacks of punch card ballots with blotto looks on their faces. The Democrats proclaimed Al Gore as the new Lazarus - risen from the dead to rule our great land. They had only a few hours of joyful celebration before they were rudely interrupted by a US Supreme Court order to "Stop the recounts!"  The Supremes will be hosting another batch of lawyers next week and might make a ruling which will decide the election. And then again, maybe they won't. I certainly don't know. Neither do you. And Clarence Thomas doesn't know any more about it than we do.

When we weren't hearing from the candidates, we heard from their lawyers, guns and money. You've never seen a slimier freak show outside a two-bit, county fair carnival.  Everyone associated with any aspect of this election has ended up looking like a sour-faced, mean-spirited, hot-headed, limp-dicked loser. And as Al Gore likes to point out, they're getting mighty snippy about it.

First it was a rag tag bunch of Democrats, led by Jesse Jackson, protesting about the blatant racial disenfranchisement in Florida. Nothing new there. But then the Republicans, always better organized and financed, got into the act. Tom Delay hired a bunch of thuggish goons (pictured above) to stage a riot and scare the ever-loving bejesus out of the Miami-Dade vote canvassing board. The board took one look at Tom's boys and hopped the next stagecoach right the hell out of Dodge.

Of course, the lawsuits have been flying like the members of Dubya's secret Yale Skull and Crossbones Society club after an initiation rite involving virgins and black candles. Democrats filed lawsuits in Martin and Seminole counties that Al's guys claimed not to be involved with. The "trust the people, smaller government and states rights" Republicans sought refuge under the skirts of Lady Justice in the Federal courts when things didn't go their way.

After that, the doors of the political zoo got ripped from the hinges and creatures of every species, great and small, have been escaping. The Florida Legislature has been threatening to name their own set of electors, following their step-by-step instructions hot off the fax from Austin. Bob Dole, who's spent the last four years trying to be accepted as a senior statesman, revealed himself to be the cynical, bitter old skunk he's always been, spouting out "President Elect Bush" at every opportunity from his smarmy, crooked grin, and trying to organize a Republican boycott of any Al Gore inauguration. And the Big Creep himself, Bill Clinton, dismissed the entire circus of bozos, saying, "Aw shucks, if I could have run again, I'd have shown these amateur dumb asses how to win a damn election!"

Despite what you might hear from the talking headless wonders, nobody knows who won this election. It was a tie. The final result, if it ever comes at all, will be produced by some court, and will promptly piss off half the country. The new president will flail around for four years, bashing his head against the walls of Capital Hill, which will be polarized and split 50/50 on every issue, with only the loudest extremists on both sides being heard above the din of gridlock. A year from now, some group of gapers with a lunatic-fringe political agenda will count every single vote in Florida and declare that the wrong guy is in the White House.

The only winners will be those who have to pick Creeps every week.