I’m Linda McMahon, former CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment. And I’m running for senator of the Nutmeg State. I’m not a professional politician, a “Washington insider.” I’m a Washington outsider, a rebel, an iconoclast — like Stone Cold Steve Austin. And I’m willing to spend $50 million of my own money to buy the election.
First, I would like to thank all the little people that have made this campaign possible — the midget wrestlers: Little Beaver, Lord Littlebrook, Mini Vader. (Although there’s no truth to the storyline that Hornswoggle is my husband Vince’s illegitimate lovechild. This is Connecticut, not Alaska, you know.) Then I’d like to take the opportunity to address the issues that matter to this country:
The economy. Governments don’t know how to stimulate the economy; small business owners like me — net worth $1.2 billion — know how to stimulate the economy. (Okay, maybe the Xtreme Football League wasn’t such a good idea. You can’t hit a home run every time at bat.) First, declare all your talent “independent contractors” even though you ban them from wrestling for other franchises. Second, refuse to provide them with health care benefits. Third, don’t renew their contracts when they’re too injured to wrestle anymore. That’s the way to keep the prices of all those wrestling action figures and t-shirts down.
Taxes. They say two things are inevitable — the Undertaker at Wrestlemania and taxes. High taxes have had this nation’s corporations in a sleeper hold too long, cutting off the carotid artery of commerce, oxygen-depriving the brain of business. It’s high time we broke that hold and piledrived corporate taxes into the ground. The fact that the WWE would benefit is strictly coincidental — like when a wrestler just “happens” to find an illegal foreign object hidden in his tights.
Illegal aliens. This issue hits close to home. There have been lots of great Latino wrestlers — Tito Santana, the Guerrero Brothers, Ray Mysterio Jr… Many of them are here illegally — why do you think they wear masks? Some people want to build a wall between the United States and Mexico. I’ve got a better idea — let’s build a giant steel cage around Mexico. Mexicans who make it out and touch American soil automatically receive a WWE contract and a shot at the Intercontinental title.
Drugs. Some of our wrestlers make Arnold Schwarzenegger look like, in the words of Classy Freddie Blassie, a “pencil neck geek.” Back in the 1980s, the WWE was rocked by a steroids scandal. We instituted a strict drug testing policy — then cancelled it because it wasn’t “cost effective.” Since then, steroids have permeated the rest of professional sports — Mark McGwire looks like Hulk Hogan. I think it’s time for the U.S. to rethink its drug policy and decriminalize steroids. If it’s good enough for America’s pastime, it’s good enough for professional wrestling. (So some wrestlers die of drug-related causes — you can’t make an omelette without breaking necks.)
Foreign policy. From the days of Sgt. Slaughter, the WWE has always stood for a strong foreign policy. (The Sarge is more of a war hero than my opponent Richard Blumenthal, who’s systematically inflated his military record — like a wrestler on steroids.) I’ve got a solution to the Iranian problem: how about a match between our two toughest jabronis — say John Cena vs. the Iron Sheik? Okay, the Iron Sheik’s getting a little long in the tooth — he’s replaced the Camel Clutch with Dentu-Grip–but he’s still a Hall-of-Famer. Winner gets hegemony over the Middle East. Just kidding — we’re still going to give Iran the “atomic drop” anyway.
Finally, I’d like to challenge my opponent to a series of debates. He can pick the format — steel cage, lumberjack match, hardcore rules… I guarantee victory — as long as Vince is the special guest referee. I’m Linda McMahon. Professional wrestling may all be fake, but I’m dead serious about becoming a Senator. As Kurt Angle used to say, “it’s real, oh, it’s very real.” (Hey, at least I’m not Christine O’Donnell. That witch sounds like she’s been drop-kicked too many times in the head.)
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