McDougal Campaign Speech Transcript

This speech was given to a crowd of seven in Provo, Utah on August 22:

It has not been edited for accuracy, brevity, or clarity. These are the words just as they rolled from the big man's gullet:

What manner of fruit is this? I thought it was a pink lady. The
apple. Its exterior is soft and supple ... but smooth ... like a lady ...
almost plasticine. And behold. It has a pit. Like a
peach. Dear God, man. What manner of fruit is this?

"crowd" sits in rapt silence

Never thee mind.

McDougal knocks over podium and walks to front of speaking platform. Sits on edge and addresses "crowd" directly.

If you have a dog. And a cat. Say you have both. And you
take them swimming. You notice the dog is the more efficient
swimmer. He has a stroke, nay a paddle named for him. The cat
flails
and thrashes about in the water, stirring up a fuss. "Why flail
you,
cat?"
Damn cat. And the dog retrieves the duck or mallard or
whatever it is
that you people -- and I am assuming you are all hunters --
call them.
And you grab that cat by the scruff of his catneck and you say to
him,
"What sex are you, damn cat?"
And you turn him about, but you cannot
tell. And he does not
answer.
And you say unto him, "I should like
to make the babies with you."
And he does not answer.
Trow are then
dropped.
And finally ... "I am a man," says the cat. "Same as
you."
Then we cannot procreate.
And we do not.
Say I to him, "Where ist
thou penis?"
And he says you cannot see such things.
"But I can see the
dog's cockandballs."
"Aye," says the cat.
"And why can you not
swim?"
The cat says the cat can, though he choses
otherwise.
"The
flailing and such?"
"Yes."
"And later, I take you home and put you on my
waterbed, and you poke holes
in it with your talons."
The cat agrees,
this is what he does.
"They are tiny holes that I do not notice, until I
awaken in a pool of
stale water at 4:13 a.m. on a Tuesday."
"Aye," says
the cat.
"And on the next day, a Wednesday, I crush your skull and eat
you."
The cat does not respond.
He is submerged under the water.

And tomorrow we dine on cat stew!

The audience has gone and McDougal is left alone on the stage ... alone with a bag of Habnero Doritos and a half-empty fifth of gin.

'Twill be a good year.