Freakin' Mule

We're also guest blogging with a mule today.

Go North, Young Man

Following the unplanned stop at the prehistoric park yesterday, McDougal felt he'd gotten behind on the campaign trail and immediately sat down to plan the next 14 days of his campaign tour. This seemed like a pretty good idea until McDougal showed us the new campaign route he'd mapped out.

"Sally," he says. "We're going after the silent majority."

"Uhhh ... I'm not Sally, sir," I say.

"Right. Betty," he says. "There's an untapped group of voters that have been neglected for years. We're going after them."

"I'm not Betty either, sir. I'm a man. Same as you."

McDougal laughs. "No man is same as me, son."

He had a point. "Yes sir."

"Sir?" he says with a deep guffaw. "My dad was sir. Call me Alice." McDougal's campaign manager stood behind him violently convulsing and waving his hands about. I looked at him confused ... I didn't get the message.

"Oh," I said. "Thanks, Alice."

I didn't see it coming. I didn't hear it coming. I don't know what happened, or how long I was out. But I'm told McDougal put the palm of his hand directly through my sternum, ripped out my heart and ate it.

I'm not sure how I'm still alive. All I know is that I've been dressed in a skirt since I came to, and I'm chained to McDougal's perch and he's calling me Tina. I've tried to speak several times, but I don't seem to have a tongue. Could be the pills though. I'm just gonna keep my mouth shut 'til all this settles down a bit.

But alas, I'm not here to complain. I'm here to chronicle.

My health and welfare are of little consequence. What matters here is the big man. What matters here is McDougal. And our nation's only hope - McDougal/Newhart in 2008.

Which is why McDougal's new campaign plan stunned me so much. At first, I was quick to dismiss his ideas. But now I see ... "McDougal, that plan's so crazy it just might work!"

"Canada, Tina. We're takin' this to Canada," the big man says. He holds up a color coded red and blue map showing the results of the 2004 election. "Look at this, Tina. Red states and blue states. But look here!" he points to the vacuum above the United States.

I was unable to speak, but the big man could tell by my eyes that I was confused.

"See," he says. "You've forgotten them too. There's a whole motherfucking country up there!" he jubilantly announces. "CANADA!"

He can tell I'm still confused, so he rattles off the few facts he knows about Canada, "It's cold up there. Hockey. Uhhh ... Strange Brew ... Eugene Levy and John Candy. Uhhh ... Green Day, I think."

He thought I didn't know what he was talking about, so to further illustrate his point, he did a pretty decent kazoo rendition of "O Canada" accompanied by Leif Garrett on electric ukelele.

I wanted to tell him I knew about Canada, but wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I dared not try. I was, for a moment, hopeful that the giant lunatic had, in fact, ripped my tongue out. For if I had said the things I wanted to, I'd have been killed or even worse.

The big man was beside himself (quite literally thanks to the heavy doses of phenol barbitol, ketamine, and Robitussin DM the big man was feeding me intravenously and also because he has magical powers that include the ability to self replicate). "THEY DIDN'T EVEN VOTE IN THE 2004 ELECTIONS!" He screamed, adding, "Hell, I can't find any record that they've EVER voted up there."

McDougal's campaign manager knelt and wept softly to himself.

The McDougal Campaign Tour - Day 36

CAMPAIGN MANAGER'S JOURNAL - 9/27/2006 - THE PREHISTORIC FOREST

Once again, I'm hung over. And once again the bus comes to a screaming halt in the middle of a busy highway. McDougal has become enamored with another cheesy tourist trap. This time it is The Prehistoric Forest. While we are stopped a driver behind us fires several obscene gestures at McDougal then tries to pass the convoy on the shoulder. I've heard the stories before, but this was the first time I've actually gotten to see McDougal stop a car with his bare hands, in person. That guy is going to have a hard time explaining the damage to his insurance company. Poor bastard.

Since the gentleman whose car McDougal had turned inside out would almost certainly call the police, I decided that we would be best off laying low for the day. The Prehistoric Forest would be as good a place to lay low as any. Of course, this meant that they day's round of campaign appearances would be a complete wash. I'm afraid we are making very little headway with this campaign. Few people outside of the campaign staff and the readers of this blog are even aware of McDougal's candidacy. I often find myself sinking into depression. McDougal, on the other hand, is in high spirits. Life on the road agrees with him.

The Prehistoric Forest is basically a collection of fiberglass dinosaurs and other creatures arranged in a patch of woodland next to a trailer park. A few of the dinosaurs are animated and speakers hidden amongst the trees broadcast roars and various other noises for atmosphere. I was right about it being a great place to lie low. This being well beyond peak tourist season, we had the place all to ourselves. It is also a considerable distance from all of the day's scheduled campaign stops, so if the police figured out who we were (not a difficult bit of detective work, the bus says McDougal! on the side in huge letters) they would most likely be waiting for us. At least this time we found someplace to pass the time where we would not be attacked by dangerous animals. Although, while posing for this picture, campaign intern Tina did hit her head on one of the outstretched arms of the giant mantis.


While many tourist traps struggle to maintain the illusion that everything you are seeing is 100% real and the result of a warp in the space time continuum or some other such nonsense (World Famous Mystery Spot, I'm looking at you), The Prehistoric Forest doesn't stand on pretense. In fact, the first thing we encountered was a man fabricating a new pterodactyl. McDougal was very disappointed that we would not be seeing any real dinosaurs. Apparently he thought he would be able to hunt them like the animals at the Drive Thru African Safari (I didn't even bother trying to explain that he wasn't supposed to hunt those animals). McDougal said he really wanted a T-Rex to strap to the top of the bus with his elk. He never did get around to barbecuing those elk, by the way. They are still tied down on top of the bus, between the speakers. They are really starting to stink, not to mention attract flies, crows and the occasional turkey buzzard. One of the interns told me that they are also starting to ooze fluids down the sides of the bus, but with the hangover I could not bring myself to make a closer inspection.

At any rate, McDougal looked around for a few minutes and decided to go back to wait for us on the bus. If only he had made it further down the trail. Then he would have encountered this animatronic tyrannosaurus, safely secured behind an electrified fence. McDougal had the last laugh, however, if you want to call it that. While we were running around through The Prehistoric Forest he was on the bus getting into the pills, the mescaline and, probably most damaging, the Jurassic Park DVD we bought earlier to watch between campaign stops. By the time we got back it seems he had forgotten completely that the dinosaurs were mere fiberglass replicas. I found him crouched in the back seat of one of the Jeeps, staring intently at the fiberglass brontosaurus that stood over the entrance to the park, and clutching a .50 caliber elephant rifle.

"Thank god you're back! I've been watching this guy for hours," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't move, damn you! Their vision is based on movement!"

I was unsure how to proceed. I've never had any luck calming McDougal down. I don't think anyone has. But I knew we had to get out of there quick. McDougal solved this problem himself by suddenly leaping out and blasting off five rounds into the brontosaurus. Fiberglass is capable of taking a huge amount of abuse. While the large rounds tore several ragged holes in the brontosaurus' neck, McDougal did not succeed in completely removing the head, which he told me later was his goal.

"My GOD," he screamed, "that just pissed it off!" He then dove into the open door of the bus. I took that as are cue to leave.

Before we drove away, however, I had two of the interns run back into The Prehistoric Forest and grab this guy. Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Fiberglass Caveman. Right now, as I write this, he is riding in the back of the truck with the inflatable pink gorilla. I think Fiberglass Caveman in a charming dude, much too sophisticated for a backwater like The Prehistoric Forest. Maybe I will make him our new Press Secretary.

McDougal in the Twenty-Third Century (excerpt)

Copyright 1983, Starbox Press

Once the effects of the freezing had finally worn off, McDougal immediately set about exploring his new environment. However, he didn't make it much further than the laboratory's doorway. In the 200 years he had been packed away, the world had become almost unrecognizable to him. The streets teemed with alien life forms and modes of transportation he could not fathom. With no frame of reference from which to work, the sights and sounds of a Twenty-Third Century city caused him to sink into a nearly crippling state of confused amazement. Xerxes realized that McDougal would need months of instruction just to begin to understand modern society.

It would not be an easy tale to tell. McDougal seemed mentally unstable to a dangerous degree and there was no telling how he would react to news of the massive environmental failure, plagues, and eventual conquest by intergalactic enemies that had befallen Earth in the Twenty-Second Century. But that was not Xerxes' only concern. If McDougal had been a big man in his own century, he was absolutely massive by Twenty-Third Century standards. Because larger humans were such a drain on Earth's limited resources, mankind had been genetically engineered to a smaller size by the Alien Overlords. No modern humans were more than five feet tall, obese or particularly muscular. McDougal, on the other hand, was all three by a considerable margin. Xerxes could not fathom why the people of the past would have made this gigantic maniac their emissary to Earth's future.

McDougal's Mailbag 3

While McDougal is on the road for his big presidential campaign tour, I have once again been assigned to sort his mail. Mostly he just gets shampoo samples and Fredericks of Hollywood catalogs, but there were a few items that I think might be of interest to you readers. Most interesting, of course, was a large manilla envelope containing photographs of a certain head of state having sexual intercourse with a chicken. I would love to share them with you, but McDougal left very specific instructions that I should not show them to anyone and take them immediately to a fireproof vault in a secret location, where they now rest. I can tell you a few things. 1. Based on the writing on some signs in the background I believe that the photos were taken somewhere in Thailand. 2. The pictures are probably about ten years old, but the person in them would still be instantly recognizable to anyone in the world who reads a newspaper at least once a week. 3. This head of state is probably going to send agents from his country's security apparatus to assassinate McDougal. 4. These agents will fail like so many others have in the past.

Here are a few letters:

Mr. McDougal,

The position of Pope is occupied for the foreseeable future. The tone of your most recent letter seemed vaguely threatening. We sincerely hope that this was an error in your usage of Latin, however we wish you to know that we have increased security in the Vatican in the event that the threat was deliberate. Ordinarily we would do everything in our power to encourage someone who has taken an interest in the Catholic Church. In your case, however, we would ask that you discontinue all correspondence. The Catholic Church is not for you.

Cardinal XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Vatican



Dear Mister Mcdoogle,

My name is XXXXXX. I am 8. You came to my town and gave a speech. It was at the parking lot at the bowling aley. I liked the part where you talked about the robots. The kids at my school are mean to me sometimes. I sent letters to Santa Claus and God asking them to make the other kids be nicer but they are still mean. Please send a robot to my school to kill the mean kids. Send two robots if you can. It is a big school.

Love,
XXXXXXXXX

P.S. I thought your gorilla was really cool.



McDougal, My Friend,

May Allah's blessings be upon you. Thank you for the timely delivery of the Narcobovinedefraculator. It has been a great help to us. The United Nations are now shitting themselves with terror. God is great!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The Islamic Republic of Iran


Mr. McDougal,

Unfortunately, your appeal to have your lifetime ban from the City of New Orleans lifted has been denied. Your Godzilla-like rampage (Mayor Nagin's words, not my own) has not been forgotten. I would suggest you make alternate plans for this year's Mardi Gras celebration.

Sincerely,
Issac Panzer
The Law Firm of Claymore, Panzer, Bastille & Cungfu

The McDougal Campaign Tour - Day 27

CAMPAIGN MANAGER'S JOURNAL - 9/18/2006 - DRIVE-THRU AFRICAN SAFARI

We had been making good time over the past couple of days, but early this morning the convoy came to a screeching halt, causing me to tumble out of one of the bunk beds at the back of the bus. I ran to the front, thinking there had been some sort of accident. I found McDougal standing outside the bus, gazing up at a billboard, saying over and over "Sweet Baby Jesus, this is the greatest thing I have ever seen." The billboard featured a cartoon image of a giraffe driving a Volkswagen Beetle, advertising a Drive-Thru African Safari. I knew there was no point trying to talk McDougal out of seeing this roadside attraction, so I just walked down the stopped convoy alerting all of the drivers of our new destination. The managers of the Drive-Thru Safari would not allow the bus or any of the trucks to go through (thru), so we had to divide up among the four wheel drive vehicles. Of course, these vehicles could not accommodate the entire staff at once, so we had to go through (thru) in several groups. When my turn to go thru finally arrived I was assigned to drive one of the Jeeps with several of the female interns as my passengers.


Before you enter the Safari, each vehicle is issued a small bucket of alfalfa pellets that you are supposed to use to feed the animals. Naturally, this has led the animals to associate cars with food. Immediately upon entering, we were set upon by a flock of vicious emus. Their long, flexible necks enabled them to peck at the food bucket no matter where is was positioned in the Jeep. After the emu assault, all of the interns steadfastly refused to even touch the food bucket, so it was placed in my control in addition to my driving duties. I did not have to do double duty for long though. Immediately after escaping the emus we were mugged by a herd of moose. While one moose blocked the road, another stuck her head in through the window and bit down on the edge of the bucket. A brief tug of war ensued, but realizing that I had no chance of defeating a hungry moose, I let go of the bucket. We had only been in the Drive-Thru Safari for three minutes.



Although it is billed as a Drive-Thru African Safari, most of the African animals are kept inside pens, I assume for the safety of the park guests. But "safe" animals like goats, deer, llamas, elk, moose, buffalo and longhorn steers are allowed to roam free and assault motor vehicles as they see fit. Previous park visitors were obviously more successful at maintaining control of their food bucket in the face of a full-on moose onslaught than we were, because all of the animals were similarly conditioned to attack vehicles in search of treats. At one point, while I was distracted by the interns cooing over a baby deer that wandered up to the Jeep, a longhorn managed to get his enormous head into the driver's side window and began licking the steering wheel. I pushed on his head with both hands, but he refused to budge, so I punched him square between the eyes as hard as I could. I think the steer was more startled than hurt, but he jerked his head back so fast that he ripped the sideview mirror off with one of his massive horns. It hurt the hell out of my hand, I'll tell you that much. My knuckles are still swollen and purple.


Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of the really large and scary animals, just the small and cute ones. The aggressive animals kept us too busy defending ourselves to take pictures, but if you click on the picture of the llamas surrounding the Jeep to enlarge it, you can see a Bison lurking in the background. McDougal went thru the Safari with the last group and shot two elk before park employees could stop him. The management of the Drive-Thru African Safari were extremely irate. I had to pay them a considerable bribe to keep them from contacting the local law enforcement. The elk carcasses are currently strapped to the top of the bus. McDougal plans on barbecuing them at our next campaign stop.

NOTE: As several of the animals pictured are endangered species, we have chosen to protect their identities.

Fejee Mermaid

For well over 100 years the Fejee Mermaid has been regarded as one of P.T. Barnum's most infamous hoaxes. What has not been revealed, until now, is McDougal's very important role in the saga of the Fejee Mermaid.

Contrary to popular belief, Barnum did not intend on perpetrating a hoax with the Fejee Mermaid from the outset. With, by today's standards, so little of the world explored at that time, new and amazing species were constantly turning up. Barnum was, of course, eager to exploit anything new and unusual. Being somewhat of a charlatan himself, he was naturally skeptical of the truly bizarre items that people were constantly trying to sell to his museum.

Barnum must have initially been highly suspicious of that mysterious merchant who repeatedly sent him letters full of tales of mermaids in the secluded waters of the Pacific isles. However, when the merchant finally arrived with a specimen, a live specimen no less, Barnum was elated and immediately paid the man without even trying to bargain down to a lower price. The "mermaid" was a dreadful creature, more monster than maiden, but Barnum had learned long ago that the grotesque attracted far larger crowds than the beautiful anyway. He immediately set about the seemingly contradictory tasks of hiding the creature away from prying eyes and heavily promoting its arrival at his museum.

When the exhibit finally opened, the crowds lined up to gaze at the upper body of a monkey sewn onto the tail of a fish, quite lifeless. This was a crude hoax, even by Barnum's standards. Nonetheless, it did not seem to hurt ticket sales at all. This was not much consolation to Barnum, who had arrived at his museum to find an empty tank where the exhibit that was supposed to be his greatest triumph once was. Instead, he was forced to cobble together yet another cheap ruse. The legions of suckers out there in the street may not have cared, but Barnum knew that the mermaid was real, and this filled him with rage.

Fiji Mermaids, as the island is now spelled, were incredibly long-lived. However, they were also incredibly slow to reproduce. The islanders hunted them, believing them demons and white men harvested them, hoping for a quick buck, though no other living specimens ever made it back. The last gasp of the Fiji Mermaid seems to have been the heavy bombardment of World War II. In the decades since, no one has sighted a single Fiji Mermaid in the waters of the Pacific islands. However, at least one Fiji Mermaid survives, unknown to modern science. It swims inside a large saltwater aquarium, where McDougal has kept it since the day he stole it from P.T. Barnum. Above its tank, for company, hangs the original Mona Lisa. That one that hangs in the Lourve? Just another hoax...

The McDougal Campaign Tour - Day 21

Campaign Manager's Journal - 9/12/06 - The World Famous Mystery Spot

Last night's September 11th memorial speech drew our largest attendance ever. There must have been fifty people! We hung a giant American flag between the outstretched arms of the pink gorilla, who was positioned directly behind the stage. I think this is what drew the people in...

McDougal drew thunderous applause when he told them that he had personally spent time in Afghanistan "kicking some terrorist ass." However, he followed that with a very graphic description of how he went about extracting information from several captured terrorists and the audience got a bit squeamish. Sometimes I don't think these people know what it is exactly that they want. Still, they definitely took home the message that McDougal is not soft on Homeland Security. They now know he is the type of candidate who will Do Whatever It Takes To Get The Job Done.

Spent today unwinding at the World Famous Mystery Spot. If you've never been there, I highly recommend it. A bored high school girl gives you a "tour" through a tiny shack that is built on the side of a hill, so everything is all slanty. This results in all kinds of crazy optical illusions. Water appears to run uphill, people are able to balance on objects at seemingly impossible angles... You can see me demonstrating the amazing, gravity-defying properties of the World Famous Mystery Spot in the photo above. As you can clearly see, I was able to stand on an ordinary folding ladder that was leaned (in the closed position!) against an ordinary wall (completely unsupported!) and lean out slightly without falling over!!!! Kids, please do not try this at home.

The interns were hoping that the World Famous Mystery Spot would make McDougal come completely unhinged. They were very disappointed when, after watching a ball seemingly roll uphill, McDougal just silently nodded his approval and went back to the bus to take a nap. I explained to them that McDougal is prone to frequent acid flashbacks, so much so that he has begun to find their presence comforting. So while an average person, when confronted with a place where the very laws of physics seem turned upside down, might feel confused and overwhelmed, The World Famous Mystery Spot merely fills McDougal with a sense of well-being and the knowledge that everything is alright in his world.

McDougal's MP3 Playlist:

White Lines - Grandmaster Flash
Fortunate Son - Creedence Clearwater Revival
Highway to Hell - AC/DC
Crazy - Gnarls Barkley
Street Fighting Man - Rolling Stones
Born in the USA - Bruce Springsteen
Ride of the Valkaries - Wagner
Tiny Bubbles - Don Ho

And now for a word from our sponsors ...

Support the tour!

McDougal merchandise is now back in stock at the Starbox Shop.

The Quotable McDougal (#8)

"Idle hands are the Devil's nunchucks."

The Quotable McDougal (#7)

"If it smells like someone died, don't open the refrigerator dude."

McDougal's Movie Reviews - Snakes on a Plane

McDougal took an afternoon off from his busy campaign schedule to catch a matinee of Snakes on a Plane. I took this opportunity to transcribe his remarks and post them here.

Finally, a movie that delivers exactly what it promises. Look. There are clearly snakes. And a plane. This may be the best movie since Porky's. I like that Sammy Jackson Jr. The way he tap dances... When they make a movie about me I want that Sammy Jackson to play me. What? Yes, I realize he is black. It's called artistic license. Read a fucking book you nitwit. What goddamn airline is this?? Look at all that legroom! I wonder if they fly to Pago Pago... Wait a minute... Snakes don't have legs! This movie is full of factual errors. And I didn't like the part where the Crocodile Hunter guy got killed by a stingray. It should have been something really vicious, like a mastodon or an esquilax.

At this point, ignoring the fact that McDougal was confusing the movie with current events, I suggested that perhaps a crocodile would have been fitting. McDougal immediately knocked me unconscious with a tubesock full of sparkplugs. This prevented me from transcribing any further commentary.

How do you like your eggs... scrambled or fertilized?

MCDOUGAL CAMPAIGN TOUR - DAY 13

Campaign Manager's Journal 9/4/06 - somewhere in Georgia

Went out drinking with McDougal last night. He insisted that I was stressing out over the campaign too much and that if he got me laid it would lighten me up a bit. I had serious doubts about his ability to pick up women. At his best, McDougal is usually incoherent. At his worst... Well, imagine a cross between Hunter S. Thompson, a two-year-old child and a bear. You might be alright if you keep feeding it pills and sweets, but for the love of God... No sudden movements.

It was truly astounding to see the Big Man working his game. He can be unbelievably charismatic when the mood strikes him. Before I knew it we were sitting in a corner booth with two stunning South African stewardesses. These were no mere flight attendants. These girls were 100 percent leggy, blonde, stewardess eye candy.

McDougal decided we should assume fake identities to prevent the girls from tracking us down at a later date. I told my girl that I was tail-gunner on the Space Shuttle. McDougal told his stewardess that he was a park ranger at Devil's Toothbrush National Park. While I was whipping up a quick story about shooting one of the solar panels off of the Mir space station just to annoy the Ruskies, McDougal was leading his girl outside to show her a squirrel nest in a nearby tree. He told her that was where the squirrels went to lay their eggs. She asked McDougal if she could make him a squirrel egg omelet for breakfast in the morning. McDougal just laughed and said "you can't eat squirrel eggs honey, they've got fur on the outside!"

I woke up at about 3:30 this afternoon lying naked in the back of McDougal's bus. I had a used condom on my dick and a raging hangover. I had a speech scheduled for McDougal in Atlanta this morning. I have no idea if he gave it or not. And right now, honestly, I don't really care.