In Other Election News: Now It’s Getting Personal

Oh, great.

The previously deadly serious competition to become the most powerful living human being on the planet has now been reduced to a dick joke.

Small hands, Mister Trump?

Apparently Marco Rubio’s Salem rally question “You know what they say about a man with small hands?” isn’t the first time size has been an issue: Spy Magazine’s Graydon Carter started describing Donald as a “short-fingered vulgarian” way back in the 1980s.

And despite a flurry of “No they’re not” / ”Yes they are” correspondence between the two — complete with photos of fingers circled in gold Sharpie — the question that can only be answered by a few close friends (with the exception, apparently, of the late Princess Diana) has arisen once more.

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But leaving aside thoughts of any other, more concrete erections — whether or not raised by illegal immigrants, depending on who you want to believe — if Donald’s thumbs are proportionally as short as those allegedly short fingers then this could explain the more than occasional typing error on his Twitter account.

But back to not so very long ago, and Rubio’s well-timed pause after that size-related question… before answering “You can’t trust them”.

Well, you know what they say about people who make disparaging comments about other people’s genitalia?

You can’t trust them, either.

Especially if their new campaign platform doesn’t seem to be just about the size of Donald’s wee-wee, but also how much might have dribbled out of it and down the front of his pants the other night.

Then again, the whole concept of his ordering a full-length (if not full-width) mirror that evening does make us wonder… well… why?

But even at the rate this contest is escalating, it’s unlikely there’ll be a live, on-air length competition when a hushed nation watches the candidates slapping their schlongs onto the Fox Network Fun Stick Comparison Counter, with Megyn Kelly ROTFLHFAO, at least not for the next few weeks.

We hope.

After that, though, this contest just can’t help but start getting really bizarre.

Who’s to say candidates aren’t already limbering up for a spot of presidential arm wrestling?

Or training for a re-run of American gladiator?

Or even just a plain gladiatorial contest — with trident, net, short sword and maybe a few man-eating lions thrown in for good measure (And you thought the Memorial Coliseum in LA had nothing whatsoever to do with the one in Rome. Will we not be entertained? Will that not be why we’re there?)?

What’s infinitely depressing, though, is that there’s going to be another eight months of this kind of increasingly infantile crap before the American people make their choice — on whatever basis — of who’s going to lead us either to the promised land or, if the wrong finger happens to be on the wrong button at the wrong time, to the next world.

Message to those wanting to be the most powerful man on this planet, if not in this solar system: Stop with the dick jokes, already — and grow the fuck up.

Or we’ll vote for Hillary.

Photo credit: Biking Nikon SFO (flickr)

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