Liveblogging the Musgrave campaign

After getting shot by Joe Lieberman and molested by Mr. Coulter, I didn't think I'd be liveblogging another campaign on election day, but here I am at Rep. Marilyn Musgrave's headquarters. I just couldn't resist seeing the concept of spiritual warfare applied to getting out the vote. I'm regretting that decision now. It's like primary night in the Lieberman bunker all over again.

I arrived late last night and was surprised to bump into Alan Keyes at the airport. "I thought you were more of a Senate guy," I said, remembering the days when he was the RNSC's great black hope in Maryland and Illinois.

"I still am," he replied, "the RNSC gave me a plane ticket, ten grand, and a noose and told me Rep. Musgrave needed my help more than Sen. Allen, Sen. Burns, or Mayor Corker."

"Musgrave?" I responded, "I'm heading over to her headquarters now; you can be my driver." "Can you wait a minute while I pop into this restroom and put on my Republican outfit?" he asked. "Just meet me at the Hertz counter," I replied.

Twenty minutes later, he came shuffling into the rental area, wearing blackface and minstrel clothes. Seeing my surprised look, he told me that his fellow conservatives felt more comfortable when he looked like this. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Rep. Musgrave had been endorsed by the Klan. I just threw him the keys and said, "let's go."
...
Rep. Musgrave's campaign office wasn't very impressive from the outside--it was just another office in another stripmall--but I was absolutely floored by what I saw as we entered. It was like a cross between a nightclub and a church. Huge stained glass windows lined the walls on either side. A large cross, a mural of Jesus whipping the money changers, and a huge plasma tv dominated the front of the room. The back featured a dance floor bathed in the glow of what seemed like hundreds of colored spotlights and lasers reflecting off a half-dozen disco balls. Up on a platform, a dj spun the latest techno-gospel hits.

Suddenly, the music and conversation stopped and all eyes turned to us. After a short, very uncomfortable, silence, a tiny man wearing a sheet squeaked, "He's a negro," and everyone rushed toward us. Seeing this, Ambassador Keyes yelled as loud as he could, "I threw my lesbian daughter out of the house." That stopped everyone in their tracks. Broad smiles broke across their faces. The smiles quickly turned to looks of confusion, and then, returned to smiles again, followed once more by looks of confusion. Ambassador Keyes suddenly remembered that Joe Lieberman needed his help and ran out the door.

Everything returned to normal after Keyes left. Conversations restarted; the dj resumed his spinning; and the light show began anew. I spotted Rep. Musgrave at the front of the room and headed over there to meet her.

It was then that I noticed something strange about the windows. They weren't stained glass at all. They weren't even windows. Although they mimicked what you'd see in a church, they were nothing more than collages of photos with writing scrawled on them.

The first "window" featured photos of naked weightlifters being spanked. "The Wages of Sin" had been written crudely across the pictures with a magic marker. Nude, fat, hairy, guys playing leapfrog served as the subject matter for the second. It was labeled "The Suffering of the Wicked." I decided to forgo looking at the rest of the windows after seeing that.

Feeling a bit sickened, yet also inexplicably excited, by the "windows," I made my way up to Rep. Musgrave and introduced myself. The man sitting next to her rose to his feet and kicked me hard in the crotchel area. My grenades exploding, I collapsed to the floor in pain as the man yelled, "How dare you speak directly to another man's wife."

After expressing my apologies between dry heaves, I complimented Mr. Musgrave on his choice of cowboy boots. That seemed to settle him down a bit, and he began introducing me to the other men scattered around his wife. "Do you know Ken Mehlman?" he asked, "He's here showing his support for Marilyn's work denying basic rights to the homosexuals. "It's very important to him that people understand that he's no friend of the homo," he continued. "The same goes for Sen. Craig, back there," he noted, pointing a crooked thumb at a man who was running his hands across the figures of the money changers in the mural.

Only now that I was closer, I realized that they weren't money changers at all, rather, Sen. Craig was caressing drawings of muscular men wearing nothing but leather jock straps studded with metal spikes. Jesus was beating them with a plastic spatula. The senator seemed to be in a kind of state of ecstasy. I couldn't blame him. Religious art often has that effect on people.

"And here," Musgrave interrupted my train of thought, "we have Rev. Mark Cowart of the Church For All Nations in Colorado Springs. He's helping out with the Haggard exorcism. You might remember him as the man who first discovered the demonic nature of pokemon."

My response was interrupted by a terrifying noise, a kind of howling mixed with a scream. I turned toward its source. It was Sen. Craig. He was standing there howl-screaming pointing his outstretched arm at the television screen. Barney Frank was being interviewed by Larry King. Within seconds, everyone else joined the senator, howl-screaming and pointing at Rep Frank. They went on like that for the entire length of the hour long show, stopping only during commercials and when the camera focused on King only.

The people in the room haven't been the same since. They started up again when a pizza delivery guy arrived. But this time, they did more than simply point and howl-scream, they attacked, tearing his pants right off his body. He's lucky he escaped. Later, they beat the dj to a bloody pulp during one of their howl-screaming jags.

I'll admit it. I'm frightened. Being 110% heterosexual, I should be alright, but it's like primary night in the Lieberman bunker all over again. These folks ain't right. Hopefully, they won't notice me huddled in this corner and I'll get through this night safely.