The Debate Fly writes,
Hello, America! I am the housefly that perched atop Mike Pence’s head for two solid minutes during Wednesday night’s vice presidential debate, and I’d like to talk to you about the future of this great nation. Like some of you, I was undecided when I began watching the debate, because, as with some of you, my brain is the size of a poppyseed. But when I heard Mike Pence outline the Trump administration’s plans, I knew there was only one ticket I could trust to protect me and the 150 or so eggs I laid in the vice president’s hair. Today I am thrilled to wholeheartedly endorse Donald J. Trump for president.
You may be confused as to why I am offering an endorsement in the first place, since most Americans share molecular physicist Seth Brundle’s pernicious misconception that “insects don’t have politics.” It’s true that we’re not big on compromise, but it’s also true that we love garbage, and we love corpses, and we love shit, and you don’t have to have one of those big ugly mammalian brains to tell which political party is committed to materially improving our lives. No president in my life cycle—which began two weeks ago, when I was a maggot happily gnawing my way through a rotten Egg McMuffin in a dumpster behind Kingsbury Hall—has done more to roll back environmental regulations, ensuring that my family and I have a constant supply of garbage where we can live, laugh, and love. No president in my life cycle has provided more dead Americans for us to eat, working tirelessly to overwhelm hospitals and morgues, presumably for our benefit. And no administration in history, never mind my life cycle, has been as dedicated to shit in all its forms—bullshit, horseshit, and of course the literal shit that inevitably accompanies a diet of fast food and Diet Coke—pumping it into the airwaves, the sewers, and the skulls of their supporters. There’s just no question which administration will do more to help me feed my family.
This election goes beyond mere material concerns, however; there’s also a spiritual dimension. And for faith-based voters like me, the Trump administration is the only option. Like all flies, I worship Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies, the Prince of Demons, the Archfiend of Lies and Death and Decay, and my faith is very important to me. When I heard Mike Pence speak so movingly of his faith—his faith in Donald Trump, primarily—I knew which administration I could trust to build Our Dark Lord’s Throne of Lies right here on earth. Kamala Harris did her best to dissemble at a few points, and maybe it worked on television, but take it from a fly in the studio audience: You could smell the evil radiating from Mike Pence. In fact, I was originally only planning on briefly alighting on the vice president’s head, running my ovipositor through his gorgeous strands of snowy white hair, dropping a clutch of eggs, and going on my merry way. But the second the setae on my footpads touched that wiry surface, I sensed a kindred intelligence coldly whirring and clicking away just under Pence’s skull, and I knew it was time for me to make my first political endorsement.