The McDougal Campaign Handbook (page 36)

The key to out campaign strategy is to make as many wild accusations against our political opponents as possible. For example:

• Our opponent is actually a robot.
• Our opponent had sexual relations with Bigfoot.
• Our opponent was sent back from the future to prevent McDougal from becoming the best President ever.

The reasoning behind this is twofold.

1. If forces our opponent to respond constantly to these bizarre attacks, rather than focusing on the issues, an area in which McDougal is notoriously weak.
2. It draws attention away from the fact that McDougal is a Sasquasexual robot from the future.

Spacejunkies

Did I ever tell you about the time I was abducted by aliens? It was McDougal the whole time, of course, but... Well... It's a little more complicated than that.

See, I was sitting on McDougal's couch thumbing through a copy of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition that was sitting there. He had invited me over to watch this video he just bought from one of those guys downtown that sells bootleg DVD's out of a shopping cart. It was called Arabia's Funniest Beheading Videos or something like that. McDougal swore it was going to be a hoot. So anyway, after he invites me inside he says "sit down, I'll be back in a minute," but then he disappears for like half an hour. So I'm sitting on the couch looking at this magazine when I start hearing this humming noise. It keeps getting louder and louder, so loud it makes my fillings rattle. Then it just stops suddenly. That's when McDougal hops out from a doorway and pulls his face off.

I laughed of course, McDougal is always playing pranks like that. Underneath his "face" is... Well, you've all seen those rubber alien masks... Giant almond-shaped black eyes, nostrils, but no nose, tiny little slit of a mouth... McDougal lunged across the room and grabbed me by the front of the shirt, lifting me up off the sofa. As he pulled me close I could see beads of sweat on that giant round forehead, the corners of the mouth twitched, those huge black eyes blinked... Conventional wisdom always says that aliens are little fellows. McDougal is not. I would say that if it turns out McDougal is half Martian, half Samoan... Well, that would explain a lot.

"You think this is funny, human?" McDougal whispered menacingly. With one hand he tossed me right through a window into the front yard. I never hit the ground though. Instead, I was drawn upward within a blue beam of light into McDougal's spaceship which hovered above the house. McDougal came up the beam immediately after me. He barked some orders to the ship's crew in a language unlike any I've ever heard and the ship zipped off into the night.

He probed me of course. Probed me viciously. In the anus.

You would think that all the probing would have ruined the trip for me, but McDougal's spaceship was just so damned fascinating that, after a while, I didn't really notice it that much. Outside of the mechanical anal raping, McDougal was a very gracious host. He explained to me, in detail, the function of various ship systems and how they were constructed. If I had a better understanding of things like thermodynamics, molecular chemistry, particle physics, nanoengineering and quantum mechanics I could probably be a very rich man by now. But, unfortunately, I had no deeper understanding of what I saw than that there were some really neat, shiny gadgets.

Like a metal pill that contained thousands of microscopic robots. If you swallowed it, the robots would be released throughout your body, curing any illnesses they encountered. And a device that could convert any organic waste into delicious and nutritious foodstuffs. McDougal explained to me that the ship was powered entirely by the energy given off by all living things, so as the ship swooped over the farms and fields, instead of expending energy, it was actually gaining it from the crops and livestock that we passed over. When we had gathered enough of this energy we rocketed out into deep space and, as we journeyed across the universe, McDougal showed me more and more amazing things, each more incredible than the last...

I woke up on the floor of McDougal's living room, my right hand clutching a half-empty box of .357 hollowpoint bullets. The unpleasant heaviness in my stomach led me to believe that I had, at some point, swallowed the other half. "Well, good morning!" McDougal roared as he entered the room with a pot of coffee, looking quite human. I tried to move my left hand, but couldn't. It was jammed deep inside a blender which was encrusted with vomit. Fortunately the blender was not plugged into an outlet. Instead, the plug was jammed deep into the side of a dead carp which lay on the floor.

"What..." I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and raw.

"You've been tripping, my friend."

McDougal explained that I had inadvertently picked up one of his latest experiments, ordinary-looking magazines soaked in high-powered acid, and absorbed a massive dose of LSD through the palms of my hands.

"You've been running around my house for three days ranting about aliens," McDougal said, laughing, as he sat down in front of the TV, where a large man was cutting off someone's head with a sword.

"The spaceship..." I mumbled.

McDougal laughed and pointed to a 1973 Plymouth station wagon, wrapped completely in Christmas lights, that was crashed halfway through the wall of his dining room.

"I don't know where the hell you got that thing and, to tell you the truth, I don't want to know," he said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

"Why did you shove this vacuum cleaner up my ass?" I asked, gingerly removing the long hose from my rectum.

"You did that to yourself, you twisted little fuck," McDougal replied.

I left his house, embarrassed. It all made sense. McDougal wasn't really an alien. He couldn't be. It was all an acid freakout. A bad trip. Except for one thing McDougal... How do you explain this tattoo? You know the one I'm talking about McDougal. The one between my shoulderblades, where I could never possibly have put it myself. The one that changes shape, glows in the dark and pulsates like a jellyfish. The one that contains letters no one in the entire Foreign Language Department of Rutgers University was able to identify. The one that is, right now, alternating between that red alien lettering, and the phrase "McDougal's Bitch" in neon yellow English letters which have helpfully arranged themselves backwards so that I can read them in the mirror. How do you explain that McDougal?

McDougal's Rucksack

McDougal's a big fan of old school science fiction (Original Star Trek, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, Logan's Run, etc.). The big guy doesn't talk about his passion for photon beams and robots though. For some reason, I think he's a bit embarrassed about the whole thing.

Of course, he'd kill me for saying so, but I actually met McDougal at a Star Trek convention in Reno back in 1974. I was working the trading cars and action figures booth, and McDougal was on a three-day PCP jag that had started in Galveston, Texas, following the nullification of his second marriage to Rosemary Clooney. George was young then, maybe six or seven, and I don't think old McDougal had official custody of the boy, but he was traveling with him nonetheless.

The boy looked scared and hungry -- all crammed in McDougal's rucksack like that. You could just see his eyes peering out between a 6-foot Klingon flag and a bloodied garden hoe. If not for those scared little eyes, I'd have never approached McDougal. But as it was, I was prompted to leave my booth, and offer the eyes the rest of my funnel cake.

You know McDougal doesn't like anyone walking up behind him -- especially not three days into a PCP freakout. But I had no way of knowing about McDougal or his state of mind when I approached him.

I led with the funnel cake, arms outstretched in what McDougal must have interpreted as a furtive and combative gesture. Before I got within three feet of him, he'd spun around and unsheathed the hoe with one hand and the Klingon flag with the other. He bashed the side of my skull with the business end of the hoe then lopped my head off with a boot knife and impaled it on the end of his Klingon flagpole.

Then he said, in perfect Klingon, "No one attacks me with impunity." (Nemo me impune lacessit.)

This action was received by great applause from the 600 or so convention goers, and I must admit that even I was impressed.

I was going to clap as well, but was in a bit of an awkward situation, having just been decapitated by the great man.

When the applause died down, McDougal had a chance to survey the situation and he realized I wasn't actually ever a threat to him. He was quite apologetic, and I kind of felt a little guilty. I could tell he felt bad, and maybe a little embarrassed.

"Don't sweat it at all, old boy," I said (trying to play it cool as the other side of the pillow. "Let's just have me off of here and back on my shoulders where I belong."

As McDougal pulled my severed head from atop the Klingon flag and clumsily re-attached it to my torso (picture Chewbacca attempting to reassemble C-3PO in Empire Strikes Back), I had to ask -

"Who's the wee lad in the rucksack?"

McDougal was taken aback. He'd apparently forgotten George Clooney was in there. Of course, this wasn't a big deal because he hadn't even been on Facts of Life yet and nobody knew who he was -- just some toe-headed kid in a rucksack as far as we knew.

"Oh him," he sighed. "That's Rosemary's baby."

Of course, Rosemary was actually George's aunt, but we didn't know any better. We were pretty damn impressed.

Here was a man who spoke perfect Klingon (which we later learned was actually Gaelic) and had the spawn of Satan in a rucksack at a Star Trek convention.

I knew we were in for a lifetime of good times.

Sure, I still get these blinding headaches, but man ... I've never been to a more exciting convention.

Teen People Interview

Every year when I come home for the holidays, I sneak into the attic and go through my old foot locker full of childhood memorabilia and half-empty bottles of stolen liquor.

At the bottom of my trunk, I found an issue of Teen People Magazine with McDougal on the cover. As you can imagine, I was quite shocked at this find.

This magazine is an important part of the McDougal lore because it contains one of the only known photos of McDougal in recorded history.

I've taken the time to copy the transcript of the interview from this issue.

Who is McDougal?
Ten Questions With Archibald McDougal
By Sassy Montgomery
Teen People Magazine

This being my first assignment with Teen People, I was a little apprehensive when my editor told me I was going to be tasked with uncovering the mystery that is McDougal. I was hoping to spend the day with the man, to really learn how he lives and be able to uncover what makes him tick.

Unfortunately, McDougal's handlers would not allow me direct access to him, and he agreed only to conduct the interview using a confusing combination of ship-to-shore radio, semaphore, Morse Code, and smoke signals. McDougal would only answer ten questions, and there would be no follow-up on his responses.

1. Who are you?

I am a man, same as you.

2. But I am not a man. I am a young lady.

That's question number two.

3. But that wasn't a question.

Three

4. OK, umm ... When were you born?

I was born in the Pleiades in the Electra solar system.

5. I said "when" not "Where".

Time is of little matter to me. I am eternal as Ross Martin's career.

6. Who is Ross Martin?

Artemis Gordon of "The Wild, Wild West."

7. Has he done anything since that show?

Don't be foolish. He was in "The Return of Charlie Chan," "The Three Robonic Stooges," "Greatest Heros of the Bible," and "I Married Wyatt Earp." The man's a legend.

8. How many questions do I have left?

Two.

9. How do you earn a living?

No man earns a living. Life is a gift bestowed upon the deserving and undeserving alike. Only the great man appreciates this gift and capitalizes on it.

10. How do you capitalize on it?

That, my dear young friend, is the question of the universe, isn't it?

11. Are you asking me a question?

No more questions from you. It's my turn now.

12. OK.

13. So how do you capitalize on it?

14. I'm not sure how to number these anymore.

Do not use any more numbers. Ever. Never mention numbers again as long as you live.

OK.

So how do you capitalize on it?

Umm ... by taking time to --

Don't mention time. It involves numbers. Let's desist the quantitative view of life.

OK. Then ... I capitalize on the gift of life by savoring every moment.

No. There is only one moment. Right now. The past and future are illusory. They're like numbers that way.

I don't understand.

Then you're retarded.

Am not.

You're denial only proves my point.

What point?

Ha! Now you've got it. There is no point.

No point to what?

There is no what.

Then what is there?

Nothing. Only this moment.

What about everything I've done before and will do from here on.

What have you done?

Well, I graduated from Summa Cum Laude from Vanderbilt University.

There you go with the numbers again.

Who am I talking to?

Who am I?

I thought I was going to be interviewing McDougal.

As did I.

You thought you were going to be interviewing McDougal?

I did. And I am.

No, you're interviewing me.

I am.

And who do you think I am?

Who do you think you are?

I don't know.

I do.

Then why question me, if you already have all the answers.

I'm not.

Yes you are. You asked me how I capitalize on the gift of life.

I did nothing of the sort.

You asked me.

Yes, I know. But you turned it around and then asked me.

Did I?

Umm ... Yes. I think so. Yes.

And did you answer?

Yes, but you said my answer was wrong.

There are no wrong answers.

Then I was right?

There are no right answers.

I don't understand.

There are no answers.

Only questions?

There are no questions, you said so yourself.

No, I said you shouldn't count my statements as questions.

Then what should I count them as?

Nothing. You shouldn't count them.

My point exactly. There should be no counting.

But you said I could have ten questions.

And who am I to tell you how many questions you might have?

Uhh ... McDougal?

There is no McDougal.

Then why am I here?

Why are you here?

To interview McDougal.

And have you done so?

I tried.

So you deem the attempt a failure? How did you plan on measuring your success? With numbers?

Well ... no. I just wanted answers -

There are no answers.

Then why did you agree to the interview?

I never did.

Then why did you agree to talk to me?

I never did.

Yes, I have the letter right here. You said I could ask ten questions via smoke signals and those other things.

There are no other things.

Of course there are.

Then what are they?

Well, lots of things. Too many to list right now. I could never list them all.

There is nothing to be gained by accounting or recording.

Well, I have to record this interview.

Why?

So people will know what you said.

But I've said nothing.

You can say that again.

But I've said nothing.

Well, actually you've said a lot of things. It's just that most of them didn't make any sense.

I've said nothing.

Then who did?

Hello?

McDougal Fast Facts

• McDougal's had the bird flu 311 times. The last time he caught it was in 1683. When he recovered, he slaughtered the entire dodo species. He hasn't had as much as a cold since.
• McDougal has flat feet with 1" discs on the bottom. They allow him, when barefoot, to climb walls like a spider. Sadly, due to an embarrassing nail fungus, McDougal has not taken his socks of since 1986.
• McDougal can will hair to grow on anything. He killed Sirhan Sirhan by causing him to grow hair on his heart, lungs, trachea, and eyeballs.
• McDougal's first home was made of egg whites. It provided excellent shelter and was a source of protein for an entire village in the Ozarks.
• McDougal taught Jesus and Abraham Lincoln how to walk on water. Lincoln was not the kind of man to show off.
• McDougal is a robot who runs on 132 AAA batteries, which have to be replaced every four hours.
• McDougal lives in a 6,000 square foot ice castle in Ecuador.
• McDougal has a collection of unicorns that graze freely on his secret compound in Nigeria. Wait, not unicorns ... eunuchs.
• McDougal once ate a log cabin on a dare. When his army buddies weren't impressed, he shat out an arc and forced it to rain for 40 days and 40 nights and flooding the Earth. He then sailed his arc to the moon and started a new race of genetically modified superheroes.
• McDougal has won 13 spelling bees.
• There is no Hebrew word for McDougal.
  

The Roomba

McDougal invented the Roomba at a Super Bowl party back in '87. He called it the Soulsucker Seven after his wife at the time. The number 7 because he was in his early twenties (this is where the story gets hazy). He claimed to have an advanced robotics degree from the local 4H club, but I couldn't help but notice the device was crafted from a tape dispenser, shaved meat, and the cowl intake off a 71 Cuda. Is was loud as hell, but the thing worked.