Herman Cain's descent into madness continues

When last we left Herman Cain, we explored the nightmarish landscape of his second Sick of Stimulus ad. More than even the Teutonic exhortations of "Nine, Nine, Nine" during his parody of a presidential campaign, the Sick of Stimulus advertising strategy demonstrates the awful depths of his mental illness. As a matter of fact, I think that it speaks to the fundamental liberalism of American society that he's allowed near children unsupervised.

I have some of the most hardened and cynical readers on the Internet, which I'm actually rather proud of. And even they were shocked by the deranged and depraved imagery that Cain is regularly employing to make some inexplicable point. In a world where folks like Rick Santorum vow to rid America of obscenity once and for all, ol' Herman is bringing snuff movies and animal cruelty to the masses.

Of course, that's not all that Cain's up to. Oh no, dear reader. He's far to diverse for that, and he wants you to know it.

The pizza man is also taking the time to go on televison and insult women.

When asked about the gender gap favouring Obama, Herman had this to say;

 

"Yes, President Obama is very likable to most people, if you just look at him and his family. But if you look at his policies, which is what most people disagree with, it's a different story. And I think many men are much more familiar with the failed policies than a lot of other people, as well as the general public."

If you ever wondered why Republicans make the best boyfriends, now you know. They understand that chicks just aren't that good at paying attention, which liberals can't bring themselves to admit. In fairness, most liberals are gay, so they really shouldn't know that. And there is no Republican authority on the fairer sex quite like Mr. Cain, being married and enjoying the company of at least one mistress. While he knows dick about economics, Herman knows what broads like!

But Sick of Stimulus will always be the great love of his life. Even more than the silken insides of a female employee, he embraces the psychic dissonance that are those ads. He holds them closer to his soul than he can any other living thing. In an almost Brokeback Mountain way, I imagine that he wishes that he knew how to quit them, but he knows that he never will. The ads just spit in their hand and Herman knows that he can never refuse them.

SOS knows the importance of versatility. In their first two ads, Cain and the creepy little blond girl actually took a fish out of water and blasted a bunny wabbit out of the sky. By now the concept is more than a little fucked out. Like most of you, I wondered if the creepy little blond girl had the same depraved indifference to human life that she so callously displayed toward lesser life forms in previous Cain ads.

In the new ad, the Animal Kingdom rises up to exact its beastial revenge on its two-legged tormentors as the creepy little blond girl presides over the inhuman spectacle..



That's right, for the first time in the history of political messaging, someone has been eaten alive by cocks, as opposed to the reverse. Although, it's more than a little perverse to have a pre-pubescent girl there to watch without a trace of human emotion. Maybe, like the women Herman referred to on Fox News, she wasn't paying attention. That seems to be the way things roll on the Cain Train.

As much as I'd like to, I wouldn't think it proper to leave you without sharing one of my script ideas for the next Sick of Stimulus ad. And since I was sad to see the horrifying nerd with the shotgun from the Rabbit ad absent from Chickens, I'm bringing him back.

We dissolve into a shot inside a cramped prison cell. There we find the nerd in the Buddy Holly glasses cowering in the corner between his cot and the bars. He has a blond wig askew atop his head and lipstick smeared across his lower face. His clown-like visage is belied by the tears running freely down his face.

Cut to the creepy little blond girl standing on the other side of the bars, blocking the view of the nerd, but not completely.

"This is American small business", she intones flatly as we hear Buddy Holly whimpering. We see an enormous human-shaped shadow moving toward him on the back wall of the cell.

We cut to the nerd's African-American cellmate. The sleeves are cut off of his orange jumpsuit, revealing scars and poorly inked prison tattoos running up his heavily muscled arms.

Cut to the black predator hanging bedsheets across the bars. From out of the frame we hear the creepy blond girl's voice; "This is American small business under confiscatory corporate tax rates." The sound of a zipper being slowly lowered follows her declaration.

In silhouette, we see the giant cellmate viciously raping the nerd. We hear his screams as his rectum is being torn apart by the dusky marauder. The slender pale victim wants to defend his virtue, but he's so very afraid. He knows that you can't fight City Hall, let alone the huge cock of the IRS. 

"Say it, bitch!", we hear the prison rapist yell.

"I love you, Uncle Sam! You own me! I do it all for you!" Buddy Holly whimpers through his heaving sobs.

"Again, you pussy punk! Say it again!"

"I love you, Uncle Sam! You own me! I do it all for you!" He's now grunting the words as he's wailing from the pain of the assault.

The shot fades to black and fades back in, where we see the sheet covering the bars gone. The black rapist his holding his lilly-white prey to his chest and lovingly stroking the blond wig. The weaker man tries not to cry openly as his master places sweet kisses on the top of head. 

Creepy little blond girl steps into the shot and asks, "Any questions?"

Cut to a close up of the nerd, tears now running down his face uncontrollably, mortified by the fact that his indignity was witnessed by a nine year old girl. How in the fuck did she get into prison in the first place, he wonders. There is no sign of life left in his eyes. He's defeated and humiliated, but resigned to his fate. He knows, now and forever, who The Boss is. And it ain't Bruce Springsteen. This Boss is more like the late Clarence Clemons, except bigger, blacker, and he isn't the one doing the blowing. 

Cut back to creepy blond girl, who repeats, "Any questions?"

Fade into the cliff with Herman Cain and his sweater vest. The Sick of Stimulus logo appears over the sunset.

I really should've stayed in advertising school. It turns out that I'm pretty good at this! If you're a big-time Madison Avenue executive and want to pay me a ton of money to create disturbing imagery and have sex with busty redheaded secretaries, you can contact me at skippystalinATgmail.com or @skippystalin on Twitter. I smoke a lot, drink a ton and pretend that I'm someone I'm not, so I fit right into the Don Draper image that everyone loves so much these days.

I'll make us all rich!