Dark Angel: True Winner of the Presidential Debates
by Kevin Murphy

The first presidential debate aired last Tuesday night, and my eyes were glued to the TV screen with an unrealized fervor, captivated by the things I heard and saw. Events that foretell of a time of great tumult and transition for our society, our culture, our very existence. During those fleeting minutes of conflict, discourse and action, moment by moment this world of illusion fractured before my eyes, and the barren plain of reality lay before me like a darkened highway nearing dawn. Never before has a choice been made so apparent to me, and perhaps never again will my course of action be as clear as the air between my eyes and my television screen in that moment of synchronous awareness.

I'm writing in a vote for Max, the girl — forgive me, the goddess — from James Cameron's unwitting window on my future, our futures, "Dark Angel."Fox Network, Tuesday night. You must not miss a single episode lest you count yourself among those Left Behind! And I thank the wise and powerful Rupert Murdoch, and those disciples of his, who decided to air the real truth of our world's fate in place of the mere pantomime that we call the presidential debate. Had they bowed to the pressures of an angry establishment, I might not be as I am in this very moment, this very razor's breadth of time, seized like Saint John of the Cross with a vision of sheer beauty and terror!

Sure, I could have wasted my time watching two guys behind podia squawk like monitor lizards on their ideas of how government can intrude further into our lives, but why? Right now, NOW mind you, James Cameron's beatific vision prophecies a woman who is born among us, recombined from human and animal geneses, one who will be hot and leather-clad, riding into the new Jerusalem on the back of a Kawasaki, and she shall be known by the bar-code on her nape. And behold here she is, she is here! Where is she? HERE! Among us! On the Fox network!

I have found my philosopher-king (queen) god-hero(ine) in the form of a 19-year-old, pouty-lipped Angelina Jolie simulacrum and I cast my vote, my heart, my very being for her! I haven't felt this way since John Anderson in 1980 and he wasn't half as cute as my Dark Angel.

Sure, during the commercials (were there any? I cannot recall) I was able to tear myself away and press my sweaty remote thumb on the recall button, but I could scarcely remember the names of these men! Who are they and why does it matter now that the Dark Angel walks among us?! All that was revealed to me was a string of babble issuing from a pair of boiled potatoes in Men's Wearhouse suits.

One seems to enjoy executing retarded adolescents in Texas with the wave of a hand; on that merit alone, he would make a great villain for my beloved Dark Angel to vanquish in her hoary netherworld. The other fawns to a dying populace and promises to throw money at the planet's many afflictions until they go away, and to connect us all to the very interactive technology he himself invented so long ago. Can't you see? If he were any more a puppet to the wills of my sweet Dark Angel, he'd have strings.

Let them battle for the fate of the nation for it is not theirs over which to battle! My sweet Dark Angel knows their souls and perhaps commands them without their knowledge! Yes! That would be magnificent, wouldn't it? Perhaps she will concoct some mad scheme to expose them for what they are, and although they will be at odds against her, the killer from Texas and the naïf from Tennessee, they will be playing right into her hands! Vote for whom you will, it makes no difference, we are to be spun around a world of shadow and mystery, over which naught but chaos reigns. But take heart; we cannot lose, Dark Angel will protect us all!

Join me now as I purify my bedroom, (mine now since my wife left me this afternoon) lighting frankincense laced with myrrh, logging on to the official chat group, and watching for the fifth time in as many hours the truest candidate for our souls, our beneficent Dark Angel. Reported as if channeled through the vision of James Cameron and the power of Rupert Murdoch, great visionaries yet mere priests in the presence of my god-lover Dark Angel, the preceding coming not from my soul but hers, always hers, forever and ever, amen, I remain her faithful servant and yours.

Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President! Come on, join in! Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President! Clap if you want to! Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President! Dark Angel for President!

And I thought my life was over when they stopped showing re-runs of "Doctor Who."

Kevin Murphy, former writer and producer for the TV series "Mystery Science Theater 3000" co-writes the online humor magazine TimmyBigHands.