The Moderator, a self-important TV news person, a man called Wolf: Gentlemen, letís begin with a question for Speaker Gingrich. Mr. Speaker, could you tell usÖ
A Man Called Newt: What Iíd like to know is how so many seriously stupid people could get on the same stage with me and challenge my right to be president?
A Man Called Mitt: Iíll answer that one, Fig Newton, but first let me say this. I make no apology for being successful, although I must admit I was a little surprised to find out I made $45 million last year for doing absolutely nothing. Of course, it helps if you donít pay much tax.
Wolf: Gentlemen, could we get back to the question?
Mitt: Iíll answer Newtís question. Youíre never going to be president, Tons oí Fun, because youíre simply too weird to be president. The American people donít want weird; they want boring. They want me.
Rick Somebody or Other: That wasnít the question. The question wasÖ
Newt: Wait a minute. Isnít your name Rick Somebody or Other? I thought you dropped out of the race.
Rick: That was the other Rick. Rick Perry, the Texas dude who couldnít remember the name of one of the federal agencies he was going to shut down. Iím Rick Sanitorium.
A Man Called Ron, Also Paul: I remember you very well; you used to stand next to Michele Bachmann in the early debates. Where is Michele, by the way? Always liked that girl, even if she was an idiot.
Rick: She dropped out, too. But Iím not dropping out. Iím from Pennsylvania and I think contraception is a sin and so is abortion and so is sex, for that matter, although I love my kids.
Ron: Well, Iíll be damned, all this time I thought you were the other Rick. Hey, while Iíve got the floor, let me suggest that a good way to bring down the deficit would be to get rid of the navy, the air force and the Supreme Court.
Newt: Snappy thinking, Ron. While weíre at it, letís get rid of Congress, too, okay? AhÖ Bear, Wolf, Coyote ó whatever your name is ó might we move things along? Why donít you ask me a question and thereby raise the level of discourse.
Wolf: I tried to ask you a question, you lard-assed egomaniac, but you interruptedÖOh, for God sakes, will you stop crying.
Mitt: See that! Heís crying again! The American People donít want a crybaby for president. They want a kindly family-oriented businessman who pulled himself up from nothing, made some important dough, and figured out how to game the tax system.
Wolf: Hold on, Iím getting a call in my earpiece. Did anyone order a pizza?
Ron: Good Lord, it must be that double-talking screwball Cain.
Wolf: Mushrooms, peppers, extra cheese?
Newt: Could be Cain. He makes a good pizza. I ate about twenty-five of them in New Hampshire.
Mitt: I can see that.
Newt: Donít get smart with me, Mitten. Youíre nothing but a vulture capitalist who made his money feasting on corporate carrion. I am a jolly, amazingly intelligent historical advisor to quasi-public real estate lenders. Who happens to be pleasingly plump.
Mitt: Whatever you say, fat boy. Blubber is as blubber does.
Rick: I have a question for you, Newt. What do you and the gang up at Freddy Mac talk about if not how to exert influence on the government?
Newt: Oh, we talk about the Missouri Compromise, Trumanís relationship with the Soviet Union, George Washingtonís idea of government ó things like that.
Wolf: So Freddy Mac pays you a bundle to get your thoughts on the French and Indian WarÖ is that what youíre saying?
Newt: Oh, are you still here, Coyote? I was hoping youíd shut yourself up in the Situation Room. And itís none of your business what Freddy Mac and I talk about.
Ron: Well, look whoís here ó the pizza king!
Herman Cain: Hi, everybody. Who ordered the pepperoni? Who had the extra cheese?