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The Cauldron Of History

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Cannon Overshoots Tim Kaine Across Wells Fargo Center

PHILADELPHIA—Noting that the vice presidential nominee had been launched nearly 100 feet into the air during his entrance into the Democratic National Convention Wednesday night, sources reported that the cannon at the back of the Wells Fargo Center had accidentally overshot Tim Kaine across the arena, sending him crashing to the stage several dozen feet beyond the erected safety net.

Wow, Dad Really Went From Zero To 60 With Woodworking This Summer

PAGE, AZ—Expressing their astonishment as they once again heard the sound of their father using his circular saw in the garage despite his seemingly complete lack of interest in the craft prior to last month, the children of area man Sam Morgan, 52, confirmed Tuesday that, wow, their dad had really gone from zero to 60 with woodworking this summer.

Who Is Tim Kaine?

Virginia senator Tim Kaine will be Hillary Clinton’s running mate on the Democratic Party ticket in the 2016 presidential election. Here’s what you need to know about Kaine

Lone Superdelegate Voting For Martin O’Malley Feels Like Total Fucking Idiot

PHILADELPHIA—Sheepishly raising his hand to nominate the man who suspended his presidential campaign back in February, unpledged delegate Bob Shiefke told reporters Tuesday he felt like a “total fucking idiot” for being the only person at the Democratic National Convention voting for former Maryland governor Martin O’Malley.
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The Cauldron Of History

It has been brought to my attention that another flag-bedecked, bunting-encrusted electoral pantechnicon has been brought to a roaring, shuddering crescendo, climaxing in a orgy of voting never before seen in the history of this Republic as a hundred million tiny souls rushed to negate each others' ballots. How impressive is the willingness of the commoner, that eternal puppet of plutocrats, to invest a few hours in deciding if his life will be directed by the strings on his limbs or the hand up his fundament.

Naturally, I am not impressed. This is perhaps because I, one incomprehensibly powerful businessman among dozens, have made no promises to improve your lot in life, enrich your children, or make the world a better place. Nor have I had to do so to acquire power undreamed of by the most avaricious and grasping politico. Yet you blithely keep me—and other news-paper men, and oil-men, and manufacturers, and for all, I know, rail-roading barons—in riches and in power. Perhaps it is my superior intellect or more realistic out-look, but it astounds me every day when I wake and find you have not yet set fire to me and my fellow captains of industry.

So enjoy what joy and triumph you may find in your pitiful exercise of the democratic franchise. Reflect on it for a night or two. Then, with the inevitability of the migrating lemming, you shall transfer that joy to the availability of a new sandwich, perhaps one topped with a a heretofore unseen variety of cheese and accompanied by fried potatoes cut into an unusual helical shape.

God bless this America, and get back to work.

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