The McDougal Campaign Tour - Day 54

Campaign Manager's Journal - 10/15/2006 - Assrape Tennessee

Seriously, I think they filmed some of the scenes from Deliverance next to our hotel. The Banjo Boy helped me carry my luggage up. I bet it will be pretty easy for McDougal to score meth around here though. Silver linings...

I have half a mind to tell McDougal he isn't allowed to navigate anymore. I probably would if the man didn't scare the hell out of me. He's the scariest human being I've ever met, and I've been to prison.

Ok, it was one of those resort pens for white collar criminals... What did you expect? I'm in politics.

I actually miss that prison quite a bit now, given the condition of the "hotel" where we are staying. McDougal sleeps on the bus, of course, but the rest of us are stuck here wondering what those stains are (I'm pretty sure the ones on the carpet are blood, and I'm certain the ones on the pillows are semen. Those ones on the drywall are anybody's guess.) and hoping that duct tape on the shower head holds for one more night. The worst part is, the TVs don't even have cable. Some of the interns have never even seen a pair of rabbit ears until now, the spoiled little pricks. This afternoon, McDougal took some time out of his busy schedule and taught the interns the proper way to trash a hotel room. When the big man is on a tear, he makes Keith Moon look like a Cub Scout.

Earlier in the day I got a nice picture of campaign intern Jeff throwing his TV off the balcony. Unfortunately, Banjo Boy picked that moment to walk out of his office. The stitches look good on him though. They draw attention away from his eyes. That was before things got crazy. As I sit here typing this, the swimming pool is slowly filling back up, as raw sewage is now pumping directly into it. The stagnant water that was in it before is currently completely filling seventeen of the lower floor rooms. McDougal won that bet. I thought there would only be enough water to fill a dozen rooms, a baker's dozen at best. Most of the upper floor is on fire. Reminds me of New Orleans...

McDougal's McCousin & The Ladies Auxiliary

At 11:00 a.m. Thursday we were en route to a hastily arranged campaign event at Mount Rushmore, when McDougal got a call from his cousin Dougal Maguire - a second generation Mic recently relocated to some Southern US shithole where blue laws and pre-suffrage voting requirements remain steadfastly intact.

Dougal's cousin is a former IRA soldier who escaped imprisonment and likely death by firing squad by stowing away on a Royal Navy frigate bound for the West Indies. A stolen identity, stack of fake citizenship documents and a rented Mooney flying into Miami at 300 feet above sea level later, McDougal's cousin's a thriving Southern gentleman who now sips mint juleps with the governor beneath a proudly flapping Confederate battle flag on the statehouse grounds.

Seems we're "half way to St. Patrick's Day," according to McDougal's cousin and we must honor the mark by visiting his strip mall pub two doors down from the Wal-Mart in this socially retarded backwater town.

In case you misread anything I said above - I hate the South ... well with the exception of Oxford, Mississippi, where through the help of an airborne rohypnol dispenser and a gas mask I was able to bed the entire Ole Miss women's lacrosse team in 1997.

But we weren't going to Oxford, and I've long since given up on date rape.

The only reason to venture south of Washington, D.C., is if you're going down there to kill someone, which (though likely the ultimate outcome) wasn't why we were going. McDougal wanted to drink Irish Car Bombs and "grip hands with the regular folk ... Goddamnit, I wanna shake some hands!"

So, like 38 hours later, the McDougal campaign bus rolls into Cannonball Run, Tennessee, or whereve the hell we were and McDougal's convinced himself that he's there to fight a religious war against Wal-Mart. (A mission he promptly forgot as soon as he put eyes on his cousin Dougal, thank God ... I think.)

Turns out our campaign manager had tried to make the best of the change in plans (as he's wont to do) and instead of holding a campaign stop in front of a historic national monument, we were going to sit down with a crash of dirt farmers high on crank and muscodine wine and ask them to support McDougal's independent Presidential bid with their votes and their wallets.

The event was, of course, an absolute disaster. Those rednecks didn't want to hear McDougal's rambling leftist views on the WTO or his (what must have seemed to them) idealistically opposite plan to abolish minimum wage laws and Federal taxes. They didn't want to hear about his plan to legalize drugs and remove prescription requirements for any and all medications.

I was not aware that McDougal was campaigning on banning prescription requirements, but must admit his ideas seemed logically sound at the time. "Jesus Christ, we're a free market economy. People don't need to go sit in a doctor's office for 45 minutes just to get a bunch of muscle relaxers and LSD (McDougal is under the impression that doctors also prescribe hallucinogens. I've tried repeatedly to explain to him that just because HIS doctor prescribes them doesn't make that the norm.). For Christ's sake, the drug companies tell you about the diarrhea and whatever else you need to know right there on the commercial."

He then went on his canned anti-Wal-Mart/anti-Chinese rant. Well, he might has well gone down there and told those redneck crackers that Jesus was a homo who smoked crack cocaine and bedded Roman hookers (which he later actually did say) than to attack the Wal-Mart, which has become a cornerstone for these people. One stop shopping there. They can get their beats and collard greens and anti-freeze all in one place. They've even got rides for the kids. And thanks to their partnerships with the Chinese government, they can sell inferior pressed board dining room suites for $30 so these ignorant mucks can pimp their double wides in the latest in New Millennium White Trash Decor. And McDougal's gonna go down there and bad mouth this!?

We're lucky we weren't lynched.

Of course, no one's gonna come after McDougal unless their ridiculously armed and even more ridiculously drunk. Turns out, however, that down there, clearly 80% of the populace meets both of these criteria.

By midnight, we were in a full fledged gunfight with these drunken buffoons, when McDougal gets an idea that he's gonna try to salvage the evening by hosting an auction. He stands up in the middle of the whole thing and announces he's going to auction off a dozen of his female interns.

He took six bullets in the chest while trying to explain his plan, but you know that kind of shit doesn't phase McDougal. He eventually got the room settled and by about 1 a.m. the auction was in high gear, with a couple of the girls fetching close to a thousand dollars.

Me and my buddy Ray each picked up one for ourselves, and I got to admit, McDougal had come up with a great idea.

I was a little embarrassed to be
caught on camera with my purchase.


Ray, on the other hand, was "proud as punch."

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.

I AM BACK IN EXILE

The McDougal Family Tree: A portrait of greatness (Part 2).

And now we here at FOMcD will continue our series on other members of the McDougal clan who have achieved some level of greatness.

General Ambrose "Brickfence" McDougal has the distinction of being the only person to command troops on both sides of the American Civil War... simultaneously. McDougal, a Mississippi plantation owner, had not taken much interest in the rebellion during the early days of the war, however upon hearing of President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation he was profoundly moved. Early the next morning he set off on a long and dangerous journey, sneaking across the Union border and returning, at considerable risk, with a load of uniforms and weapons. Upon his return, McDougal informed his slaves that any who wished to enlist in the Union army would be freed immediately. As you can imagine, the slaves showed a great deal of enthusiasm for the freedom to fight. Uniforms and muskets were issued out. The now General McDougal informed his troops that they would invade the nearest town at dawn.

Late that night McDougal rode into the town and informed the residents that invasion from an army of freed slaves was imminent. He told them that their only hope for survival would be to raise a militia and head off the invasion at the edge of town, in the fields of the McDougal plantation. The townspeople, in a panic, asked McDougal to lead their militia in combat against the slave army. McDougal said that he would be willing to accept the burden of leadership in exchange for a modest fee, which the townspeople were eager to pay.

The next morning McDougal's Union Free Negro Army of Mississippi marched out through the fields toward the town, right into an ambush set by the townspeople's militia. The battle raged for days, attracting a large crowd of spectators, as was the custom at the times. There was not much else in the way of entertainment in the mid-1860s, especially with a war on. Friendly wagering about the outcome of the battle soon began and McDougal, being the landowner where the battle was taking place, made his way through the crowd facilitating this gambling, taking a cut of the action of course. The town militia soon began to be overwhelmed by the assault of the slave army however, as McDougal's was a large plantation having a great multitude of slaves. McDougal quickly sent a courier bearing a letter to the nearest Confederate headquarters informing them of the Union assault and requesting more troops.

With the arrival of seasoned troops the Confederate forces were able to push back against the Union invasion, driving them nearly to the brink of defeat. Ambrose was forced to purchase more slaves from neighboring plantations with his gambling earnings and free them so that they could join his Union army. These fresh troops rushed into battle in a brilliant flanking manuver that would have surely crushed the Confederate resistance if General McDougal had not been aware of it beforehand and arrayed his troops to repel the advance. The Confederate command, growing tired of this prolonged combat taking place so embarassingly deep inside Southern Territory decided to put an end to the Union slave army once and for all. They sent a letter to General McDougal informing him that they had pulled four cannons out of front line combat and sent them South to Missisippi. These would certainly turn the tide of battle in favor of the Confederacy. As the convoy bearing the cannons approached the battlefield however, it was ambushed by scouts from the 1st Mississippi Negro Cavalry, who managed to capture two of the cannons. This brilliant tactical move was, no doubt, the work of General Ambrose McDougal.

Both sides withdrew and dug into fortified positions, from which they could exchange cannon fire. This assault continued on for months. Periodically one side or the other would attempt an infantry charge, but opposing forces always managed to anticipate these manuvers and neither side was ever able to gain the upper hand. The months stretched into years, yet the battle raged on, continuing even after the end of the Civil War by popular demand, as it had become the most visited tourist destination in the state of Mississippi.

General Ambrose McDougal was hailed as a hero by both sides of the conflict for many years, until they finally realized that they were both hailing him as a hero. Several statues in both Northern and Southern cities were dismantled in the middle of the night and it was generally agreed that the whole episode should never be spoken of again. If one spends enough time attending Civil War re-enactments, however, you will begin to hear whispers about the legend of General Brickfence McDougal, the only man who ever grasped the true spirit of the Civil War, a grim spectacle perfect for wringing the cash from slack-jawed tourists.

Of Mice and Men

McDougal was born a slave on a plantation on the Mississippi in 1799. It was an odd plantation, growing mainly steamed vegetables like artichokes and broccoflower, and tits. McDougal's grandfather was captured by a slave owner named Onida Dockery, who was so cunning of a negro that he tricked white people into being his slaves. The slaves from neighboring plantations would come over at night and beat the white slaves, including young McDougal, and this had a profound effect on his development.

It was during the Civil War that the McDougal family realized they had fucked up and were on the wrong side of the fence. They quickly moved to Detroit and set to work in a factory riveting bolts into Ford F150s, a full 140 years before they even existed. Another driving factor in the confusion of young McDougal was the fact that these vehicles didn't need rivets, and his mother, uncle, aunts, and sister were just walking around shooting rivets into the windows and doors at random. McDougal's father did nothing but eat hot dogs and shit mice. (Note: He didn't eat entities called "shit mice," but when he shat, his fecal matter contained only live mice that infested the assembly plant.)

McDougal's sexual awakening came to him in the form of a smack from the labia majora of an attractive young girl from Poland. It was a steaming hot night in Kuala Lampur, where McDougal retreated following years of ritual abuse at the hands of his father's shit mice (Note: Here I am referring to the mice who were shat out by his father and branded shit mice by the rest of the family.)

Also, earlier I said "hands." Being shit mice and not the common variety house mouse (Mus musculus), which features claws, the shit mouse has actual hands -- very similar in nature to human hands, only much smaller, of course. The shit mice used these hands to punch, pinch and strangle young McDougal until he was driven mad and ultimately escaped to Kuala Lampur, where he was deflowered by a beautiful young Polish whore, who brought him kicking and screaming into manhood.

The woman, whose name dare not be spoken in polite company, taught McDougal the Polish language, how to make sausage, and how to be a man. In the years since, McDougal has often credited this nameless Polish whore with his many great successes.

Likewise, he has attributed his equally numerous failures (i.e. the minja, the Hindenberg, Gigli, the Pontiac Vibe, and Paul Simon's short lived attempt at theater) to her overly aggressive labia.

Truth be told, however, McDougal owes all his colossal life events to one man and one man alone. This man, his true father, is Onida Dockery.