Cedric Bigglestone holds his own political convention. We reveal your new president.
Inspired by 2020’s political conventions, Cedric Bigglestone holds his own rally, full of talking points, debates, and the nomination of a candidate. Is this the future of politics in America? Answer: Yeah.
PART ONE: I TUNE IN.
Every so often, I become engaged in U.S. politics and take a sincere interest in the course of our country’s economy, foreign policy, and domestic affairs. This makes it difficult for me to masturbate for some reason and I usually quit thinking about that stuff so I can free up my mind or whatever. This year, I decide I will stop playing with myself until the election is over so I can focus entirely on our nation and its future. I begin to watch news shows and political commentators so I can be up to date on what’s happening ahead of the big vote.
PART TWO: I FIGURE OUT THE ELECTION IS IN NOVEMBER.
That’s a long fucking time away for someone who’s trying not to masturbate.
PART THREE: I “STREAMLINE” THE PROCESS.
A few hours into my vow to stop whacking it, I realize I have a glorious way out of my situation. What if the election were held early? Like today or something? And I could get back to beating my meat by tonight?
PART FOUR: I ENCOUNTER RED TAPE. AND THEN BURN IT.
I am told by some guy outside my apartment that holding the election early is impossible. I think the man is someone important who would know that because he has facial hair that looks like it’s supposed to be there and not just grown on because he stopped giving a shit. I am enraged by the gridlock I am facing and look for a workaround. I watch a news show and see that before the elections there are “conventions” where people are “nominated” to be “candidates” who then run for “president.” A little research teaches me that almost 100% of the time, one of these “candidates” becomes the actual President of the United States. It occurs to me that if I had my own convention, I could nominate a candidate way before November and he would probably 100% be the president, so I would technically not have to wait till the election to start masturbating.
PART FIVE: I PLAN MY CONVENTION.
This part is a lot harder than I anticipated. Apparently, political conventions involve thousands of people and are on t.v. My convention, by comparison, involves me and my cell phone. Another difference is that the normal conventions have a bunch of speeches and talk about stuff. I hate that. I consider just giving up and jacking it, but then I make a bold decision.
PART SIX: MY CONVENTION TAKES PLACE.
I determine that my political convention can be whatever I want it to be and does not have to worry about what other conventions think of it, just like Gary Vaynerchuk says. I decide to look internally for candidates and find a qualified pool or contenders who include my balls (left and right), my nut sack (or scrotum), and my penis. I feel this group provides a lot of diversity and difference of opinion and will launch some fascinating debates for who should rule America.
PART SEVEN: THINGS GET CONTENTIOUS.
Because they’re all from the same party (my dick area), I assumed my balls, scrotum, and penis would at least get along to some extent. But I find they are bitter and viciously insult and attack one another. At one point, my ball sweat complains that it was not given the opportunity to run. I’m like, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of you when I made that decision,” and my ball sweat is like, “What??? What??? You didn’t think of me?????” And then my penis goes off on this whole thing about how he’s the fucking leader of the dick area group and how everyone should fall in line with what he’s saying and just vote for him.
PART EIGHT: MY DICK IS DISQUALIFIED.
I don’t understand how regular convention politics work, but I assume that if a candidate becomes too loud or annoying, you can arrest him for embezzlement or something. That’s what I do with my penis. Now that he is out of the running, my nut sack and my nuts are the only three left in the race.
PART NINE: WE VOTE.
It’s weird but my scrotum ends up winning even though when I vote in my mind, I make all the votes go to my left nut, because I feel he’s the most reasonable of the three. But it’s not like I’m going to question the ballots and claim the election is rigged so I kind of half smile and announce that my scrotum won. Not everyone’s happy about that, but for the scrotum it’s a big deal.
PART TEN: MY SCROTUM IS NOW THE PRESIDENT?
This is the part I don’t quite understand. Now that I nominated my nut sack for President of the United States, I guess there’s a 100% chance that he’s the president? That can’t be right. But somehow I know it is. I guess that’s why everyone says politics is so crazy.
CONCLUSION: I AM FREE TO MASTURBATE.
I guess I also should become a political consultant because I just ran the most brilliant and unorthodox campaign in the history of my pants and America. I’m done writing now. Goodbye.
Cedric Bigglestone is a self-taught journalist who exposes things through exposés. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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