- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.addic7ed.com -
Welcome to tonight's Democratic debate
- in Charleston, South Carolina. - _
Good evening. I'm Gayle King,
and CBS needs me more than I need them.
Thanks to my cohost, Norah O'Donnell,
and the Democratic candidates.
Tom Steyer, feel free to take a nap
and I'll tap you on the shoulder when we're done.
You may all now attempt to dick-punch a 78-year-old hippy.
Oh, sure, pick on the underdog
with a small lead in every state.
Vladimir Putin wants Bernie to win the nomination.
Putin does not want me to win. Very few people do.
Bernie Sanders is bad, but Michael Bloomberg is worse.
I mean Bernie! But then again, Bloomberg!
Aw, dang it, I'm losing everyone, aren't I?
Yeah, yeah, Bernie bad.
Hey, I'm still winning this state,
so let's wrap this up before I get confused
and try to arm-wrestle the Steadicam, huh?
Okay, I think we're good here.
For Norah, Gayle, Harry Reasoner,
and all of us here at the DuMont network, good night!
We just started, Joe.
Oh, wow! I can't wait to find out what I'm gonna say!
I've got no money, I'm hemmorhaging the black vote,
and I've got a letter opener in my pocket
whittled to a deadly point.
Who wants to take a goddamn swing?!
Let me be clear...
the only authoritarian I support is my wife, Jane,
when she forces me to eat leftovers for dinner
when I was craving Fazoli's.
I should probably get out of this race
before people realize
I'm a rounding error away from Ted Kaczynski.
Senator Warren's got me all wrong.
I have released more women from non-disclosure agreements
than any candidate on this stage.
Come on, Joe! South Carolina is a layup.
Just take the ball, aim, and...
actually, lemme just say one quick thing about desegregation.
Joe, no, don't do it!
I have to, Joe!
Candidates, please. One at a time.
Exciting news, everyone.
I'm still viable because Mike Bloomberg and I
are officially running mates.
I didn't agree to that.
Not! My! Problem!
Vice President Biden, put down Tom Steyer.
Come on, man, gimme your 15%.
Where'd you stash it? In your socks?
And everyone else, please take it easy on Senator Sanders.
I defeated my own heart!
I can defeat you bastards!
And that's all the time we have.
Remember these candidates' faces,
because after Super Tuesday, half of them will be mulched.
Can I count on you, letter D, for a small-dollar donation?
Welcome back to Meet the Press. I'm Chuck Todd,
and I've never passed someone walking a dog
without getting tangled up in the leash.
It's endorsement season,
- and with Super Tuesday around the bend, - _
every Democratic nominee
is vying for the biggest endorsement of all.
The endorsement whom of course I am speaking of about
is, of course, Barack Obama,
the one Democrat so beloved, his star power
completely overshadows his civilian kill ratio.
Joining me now is Obama's self-proclaimed
"Caucasian brother from another mother"...
oh, I don't like saying that... Vice President Joe Biden.
Happy to be here, Chuck.
You're so cute, you could be one of them Gerber babies!
Awww. Don't you think securing the Obama endorsement
could airlift the fallen tree
pinning your screaming campaign to the ground?
I'm actually feeling good about securing the black vote
and the youth vote on my own.
Remember, kids, Papa Biden is on your side
as long as you're willing to work hard
and never receive anything in return!
Whoa! You're not actively seeking Obama's endorsement?
Look, look. Barack Obama's my BFF!
We are Washington's Olsen twins, joined forever in eternity!
When was the last time you two spoke?
My birthday maybe? His birthday?
I sent him this spooky thing
that I had to send to 15 people
or a ghost lady would come out of my closet and stab me.
Hey, when's your birthday, big guy?
Lemme give you some birthday spankings!
Uh, we'll be right back!
It doesn't matter who the lefty losers vote for
on Super Tuesday.
My internal poll numbers show me winning in every state,
especially the ones where you have to drive
50 miles to see another person.
- What internal poll? - Um, hello?!
The internal poll that my staff reads to me every morning
after they've given me my flattery enema.
Can we see the polling data?
Who do you think I am, a guy who carries around papers?
Alright. I gotta jet before I accidentally mention
the maxi pad under my belly paunch
that's slowly becoming saturated with my oils.
It feels insane to say it, but Chuck Todd is right.
If you want to limp across the primary finish line,
you need Obama's endorsement before Super Tuesday.
Barack will endorse me on his own time.
Until then, I won't violate our unspoken friendship code,
which says that we do not speak.
We just don't want to let the nomination slip away from you
and into the hands of some pro-health care,
anti-dying-in-the-street radical.
Imagine your life if you don't get the nomination...
no access to the hair, shoulders, and necks
of unsuspecting women!
- I don't like that one bit! - And you'll be so bored!
I could lose my mental acuity!
Welp, better head home and walk my childhood dog.
Mr. President, what are you doing down here?
Shouldn't you be up in bed,
staring quietly at the inside of your eyelids
until it's time to eat again?
I couldn't "sleep".
I was thinking about the internal poll.
You mean the really good one that says
hey, now, you're an all-star, get your game on, go play?
Some big kids in the press corps
were talking about it like it isn't real.
They're just trying to rile you up, Mr. President.
Of course, the magical poll that says you're more popular
than the straight boy at drama camp is real.
Phew! If I wasn't beating the Democrats,
that would mean I'd lose re-election.
If I knew I was gonna lose re-election,
can you imagine how miserable
I'd make the lives of everyone around me?
Not even the most godforsaken soul on Earth
would desire my staff's hellish fates.
Luckily, according to you, that would never happen.
Uh-oh. It's almost sunrise.
If you don't go to bed,
your internal poll numbers might drop.
- But, but, but... - Ah! I hear them going down!
I'm going! I'm going!
Don't forget to brush your teeth
- and wipe your ass! - No!
Hmm.
- Ohh! Huh. Guess it has been a while. - _
"Hi, Barack. Can I get your endorsement?
Hope you forwarded that ghost thing".
I'm gonna run for president, huh?
But don't worry. I'll treat your legacy
with the same care I treat this fine carpet under my feet.
Ah, crap! I stepped in shit.
Look, Joe, uh, you don't have to run for president.
Maybe you should do something else
like fly-fishing or meat-curing...
try out for a men's volleyball team...
Aw, geez, folks, forget it!
Great! Now I gotta sweet-talk
an old lady into giving me her phone!
I told Trump I had two hours to live,
and he still wouldn't shut up about the internal poll.
He needs to know the truth, Conway!
Relax! He'll forget about it as soon as he hears
we're having stuffed-crust crusty-stuff for lunch.
- No, he won't! - Tell him!
Tell me what? The internal poll kissed me
gently on the forehead as I slumbered?
About that... I want you to hear it from me
because I'm a straight shooter.
Okay, okay. Shut up, you pieces of shit!
The thing about the poll is that it isn't actually real.
It's just something we tell presidents
to bring joy to their faces.
So you lied?!
But it has to be real!
If it's not real, that means I could lose re-election!
And it means that I'm taking all you rat bastards
down with me!
Um... uh... Uh, got ya, Mr. President!
Of course, the poll is real!
It was just a Super Tuesday prank.
- Just a prank? Really? - Yes, a prank!
Just as God so loved the world that he pranked his only son.
I knew it was a prank!
Now tell me everything about the poll!
Does the poll sleep in a matchbox
with a button as a pillow?
Is the poll always watching me
even when I spend six hours a day in the can?
I couldn't ask him, folks.
I guess I'll just have to win this whole thing on my own.
What do you think of this slogan...
"You're Only As Young As You Feel!"
with a photo of me and a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader on my lap.
We thought you might wussy out.
Okay, fine. Two cheerleaders. My legs can take it.
That's why we brought in some fellow centrists
who still believe in your mission
of impassioned indifference.
You're the only one who can change things
to the way they are.
The only one who can champion the belief system
that skyrocketed me to an historical footnote.
O Biden, my president.
O Biden, my president!
So what do ya say, Joe?
Will you be the torchbearer of the status quo?
I'm touched! I gotta win back
my best friend, Barack Hassan Obama!
Hey! I saw your little one, Sabra, at the mall last week.
Man, that girl sure knows how to tell me
she's not your daughter and that I've made a huge mistake.
Anyways, I'm running for president.
Uh, yes, uh, I got your e-mail,
and I've been meaning to donate.
No, I get it. You're a busy Hollywood hotshot now.
I bet you know all the Impractical Jokers.
But, hey, there's something I need to ask you.
Uh, look, Joe, I'm not going to endorse anybody
ahead of the convention, so if that's why we're here...
What? No. No, no, of course not!
I just wanted to ask, uh, if you remember when we first met
back on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
You were eating a ham sandwich, and I yelled,
"New guy's eatin' a ham sandwich! Everybody, look!"
Uh, yes, that was quite loud and embarrassing for me.
Oh, okay.
Uh, well, I need to get home and prepare
for an important Obama Foundation fundraiser.
Richard Branson is auctioning off a jetpack.
Uh, Waiter! Can I get
my unsweetened dessert almonds to go?
And that's the story of the internal poll.
- Okay. We good? - Aww. Tell me once more.
I'm actually gonna listen this time.
Ugh. Christ. Okay.
It was the March before Election Day,
and all through the White House, everyone was dreaming up ways
to hide polling places from black people.
Then everyone popped a downer and passed out at their desks,
as visions of empty immigration processing centers
danced in their heads.
When all of a sudden,
a big magic, uh, internal poll
landed on the roof.
The internal poll was named Pollie,
and it was full of polling data
that said things like, "2020 is in the bag!"
and "The Jews will not replace us!"
Pollie shimmied off the roof
with the spirit of 63 million screaming lunatics
and landed in the Oval Office...
... where it shared all its polling data with me.
Well, what happened next, Mrs. Conway?
Uhh, Pollie went back to heaven. The end.
Wow! What a great story!
Guess there's only one thing left to do now...
Stay up all night and wait for Pollie!
- Wait. What? - So I can see it for myself.
That cool? I'm kidding.
I would never ask anyone's permission to do anything.
Aw, geez! I biffed it!
My charm only works on middle-aged women
whose faces I take in both hands as I ask them how many hearts
they broke on the bus ride in from Corpus Christi.
Give it another shot. When can you see Obama again?
He's got a foundation thing tomorrow,
but he'll probably be surrounded by all his fancy friends
like Richard Branson and the guys who invented movies!
I'll probably just embarrass myself
and tarnish his legacy forever!
Aw, geez! I biffed it!
We'll help you un-biff it!
Let's make him gaffe-proof.
Pretend these are Barack's hip new friends.
How would you talk to them?
Hey, man, stop being a tease
and let us see that gaping eye hole!
Hi. I bet each of your husbands have a crush on the both of you.
God damn it! You know we need to raise the minimum wage
when single moms are forced to wear
their dead husband's clothes!
- Jesus, Joe! - What the hell's the matter with you?!
Well, what am I supposed to say?
Talk about the weather! The Yankees!
How Giuliani is a good guy if you get to know him!
Banana-flavored candy! Anything! Who gives a shit?!
Hey, Richard Branson. You like the weather?
How's about a banana candy?
Not awful!
I left out all of the internal poll's favorite things to eat.
Thank God they were all in your purse...
Max Blast Mascara in Midnight Black,
a disgusting scrunchie, and the patent paperwork
for a budget wine called SlurryGal Cabernet.
Oh, good God. I'm never lying again.
I'll just camp out at my desk all night until Pollie shows up.
Can you sing me my favorite internal poll song again?
Um... ♪ We three polls of internal polls ♪
♪ Telling me that I'm cool and not old ♪
♪ Beating the Dems, doing the thing ♪
♪ It's true that the poll is real ♪
It never showed.
Now, when I used Facebook to win in '08,
it was still good. But now? Bad.
- Barack, c'mon! - You. This guy. Hilarious.
I'm kidding. Technology is the future.
I keep getting logged off my Facebook!
When I try to log back in, I have to identify
which pictures have cars in 'em,
but dang it if they don't all look like cars to me!
Joe! What are you doing here?
Just wanted to support your cause.
Now, how about this weather? It's raining cats and dogs!
- Oooooooo! - That's some snappy chit-chat.
Uh, yes, that is an appropriate thing to say.
Hey, did you know they eat cats and dogs in China?!
It's messed, but that's their culture!
There you go. Best seat in the house.
But all your other friends are seated up front!
I can't tell the deejay to play rock-and-roll songs
from way back here!
Oh, and if anyone asks, please refer to me
as your former coworker, okay?
Cool? Got it? Thanks.
I'm biffin' it! Damn it!
Pollie never showed up
because you weren't looking in the right place!
Okay, I am a grown man, and the President of the United States.
I will not be made a fool of!
Pollie's footsteps! Over there in the dirt!
Where?! Where?! Where?! Oh, my God! I'm peeing! I'm peeing!
See, Mr. President? Pollie was here!
Thank God! I was starting to get embarrassed for you.
Remember, Mitch... two Supreme Court justices.
Remember, you have to
keep Pollie secret, because if you don't...
I know, I know. I'll turn into jelly.
Don't worry! I would never do that to Pollie.
I have a little crush on Pollie.
Alright! Stupid mission accomplished!
Uh, you must be from the Nevada Chamber of Commerce?
Well, I just wanted to discuss the aim of the Obama Foundation,
uh, which is, uh, you know, to turn the youth of today,
uh, into the citizens of the world tomorrow.
- What? - L-Let me start over.
I think I could have used some more precise adverbs.
Aw, geez! Barack's biffin' it!
Uh, so, in "Settlers of Catan", each player has a resource...
brick, wool, grain.
Hey, Buster! Nice hat! You hold up a rodeo this morning?
Very funny, young man!
What my buddy Barack's trying to say is
shell out, and you'll make a buncha kids
happier than the first time they saw Wonder Woman
snap her big ol' whip!
Ha! Now, this guy I understand, because he looks like me
and says things I might say.
I'd like to write you a check for $40,000.
Listen, Maggie Haberman.
My internal poll shows me beating Biden and Warren
by double-digit margins in every swing state.
We'll get that on NewYorkTimes.com
- as soon as we can. - Great. And get this...
My internal poll... Sorry. Pollie...
ate all the mascara I left out
and half the disgusting scrunchie.
Maggie? You there?
Oh, I'm here. Just... taking notes.
Don't! Kellyanne said we have to keep Pollie's existence secret,
or its magic will disappear and I'll turn into jelly.
- Do I have your word? - Yes, Mr. President.
Good! Now, which one of my Rust Belt racists
is getting a sympathetic profile in Sunday's magazine?
I forgot what a great schmoozer you are
when it comes to a particularly pigmented type of everyman.
- I got a way with whites! - Uh, so, uh...
no one bid on Branson's jetpack
after they found out he wore it nude.
- You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? - Hell yeah!
Whoo! I feel like a drone!
Yup! And you just violated my airspace!
Aw! Crap!
Aw, geez! That was fun!
I got old pennies in every crevice!
I've enjoyed spending one-on-one time with you tonight.
Usually, I'm more of a one-on-50,000 type.
We're opposites, huh?
You're a locked diary full of smart crap,
and I'm an open book that's the same length as the yellow pages
and makes just as much narrative sense.
Hmm. Maybe a candidate like you
is just what this quirky, mixed-up, ungrateful,
backwards country needs.
- Joe, I want to endorse you for... - Best friend?
... President of the United States!
Aw, shit. I-I mean, thanks.
Yeah, that... that's what I wanted.
Now that that's settled, I should get back to Michelle.
She's been holding plank position since I left her.
I'll be home in 20.
Just keep your core rock-solid until then.
Hey, what if we kept hanging out?
I know a place that does indoor skydiving!
My cousin Ron-Jon said if you do it right,
you can spit in your own face.
Joe, you got my endorsement.
Can I at least get a ride?
We could stick our heads out the winda!
You have your own car right there.
Aw, come on! Yours is warmer!
♪ For she's a jolly good liar ♪
♪ Which nobody can deny! ♪
This one almost killed me, but I pulled it off.
Let's pop the top on a bottle of SlurryGal!
- The master at work! - Oh, you are good!
Kellyanne! What the hell
is Anderson Cooper talking about?!
Ugh! Drink it without me. That stuff doesn't keep.
- As if things couldn't get - _
any more embarrassing for the President,
who recently tweeted at
deceased dictator Augusto Pinochet
wishing him a "blessed Thanksgiving",
the Times is reporting that President Trump
believes in fairy tales and magic.
I'm the laughingstock of the make-believe community!
This is further proof that the President
is a big dumb baby who believes in the Tooth Fairy
and wee-wees his wittle diaper.
My diaper is not wittle!
Trust me... there are no complaints.
Right, Kellyanne? Big diaper?
What did Pollie say about my diaper?
- Aaaaaah! - Kellyanne? Pollie loves me.
- Right? - Enough!
There is no internal poll! There is no Pollie!
Get it through your big fat baby brain!
You lied to me! How could you?
- Job security? - That's it...
I'm running away to the wrong side of the tracks,
but I don't want to leave this room,
so this is now the wrong side of the tracks.
Do not come looking for me!
Alright. It's Barack! Very cool.
Welcome back to Netflix. Whaddaya got for us?
It's called Separated at Bark.
It's me, a litter of Goldendoodles,
and some questions about nature versus nurture.
Hey, I got a pitch!
- It's called Betrayal! - Ooh, great title.
It's about a guy who thought he and another guy were friends.
But then the second guy didn't want to hang out
with the first guy anymore!
But the second guy gave the first guy what he wanted,
even though the first guy spent the last decade
reveling in the collective goodwill of the second guy.
These guys are... also Goldendoodles?
They're president and vice president.
Let's get Robert Duvall for the president!
Ooh! And let's have him play the vice president, too!
Like an Eddie Murphy-type thing!
- You mean Mike Myers? - Eddie did it first!
This is fun, right?! It's like you're a drone!
Are you working through something, Mr. Vice President?
Speaking of, could I maybe be your vice president?
Airspace violation!
Now you drone me! It's fun! See?!
My idea of fun is lifting up the American people.
That no matter our differences, we are all one nation...
Geez, folks! This guy sucks!
♪ No more shared ice creams ♪
♪ With Barack Hassan ♪
♪ The magic of friendship ♪
♪ Is gone ♪
♪ My hundred and four percent ♪
♪ Approval ratings ♪
♪ Were second to none ♪
♪ But the magic of Pollie ♪
♪ Is gone ♪
♪ Friendship ♪
♪ Pollie ♪
♪ The magic is ♪
♪ Gone ♪
Ugh. Barack. Couch.
TV. Room.
C'mon! Let's go show Barack that I don't need him anymore!
Hey! Oh, hey, Michelle. Is Barack home?
I wanted to show him my new best friend,
Beto something-or-other.
I'll see if I can pry him off the couch.
He's on hour six of The Great British Baking Show.
Chocolate ganache?
In this heat? You gotta be kiddin' me.
Who's he watching with? Richard Branson?
Richard's just a vacation friend.
Barack really doesn't have any other friends besides me.
I almost wish he'd start smoking again
so he could hang out with one of the neighbors on the sidewalk.
Michelle! Who's at the door?!
- Is that my tom yum soup?! - Do you want to come in?
Please! I have so much to learn.
Nah. That's okay.
Aw, geez. Poor Barack Obama.
No friends, eating made-up fantasy soup.
Uh, we should go. Come on, Beto.
I'll drop you off at the skatepark
with the rest of the middle-school teachers.
So you guys know, like, the internal poll isn't real?
It's something a bunch of boomers
made up to conform us or whatever.
But why would Mrs. Conway
lie to you like that?!
That is so messed up!
If this poll isn't real, then what else isn't real?!
I know.
It's making me question a lot of things lately.
I mean, what even is an approval rating?
Maybe the immigrants are the good guys.
Dad, you're scaring me!
Mr. President!
I'm sorry! Or whatever people say!
Go away! I'm talking to my friends!
I'm probably not even gonna celebrate
Election Day this year.
♪ The magic is gone ♪
What kind of White House advisor
can't convince a speed freak with holes in his brain
that an anthropomorphic internal poll exists?
Idea!
"Dear Mr. President,
I just got to hold my newborn son in my arms,
and that experience was dogshit
compared to the experience of voting for you.
Love always, Blaise Furtasch.
Age... I don't know... 62".
"No quid pro quo!"
"I actually really like that you harassed
all 25 of those women".
"Wow! You're so tall!"
"I love the way your shirt tails
stick out of the bottom of your pants".
"I'm not afraid to be racist to my coworkers anymore".
The President... total exoneration...
could beat any baby at basketball.
- It's me, Cuomo Prime Time! - _
Joe Biden and his guy Barack are on a one-way rocket ride
to Toiletsville. See for yourself.
- Mr. Vice President! - Excuse me! Sir!
Turns out, Barack and I aren't friends anymore. Geez.
Anyways, I'm not gonna bother him for his endorsement,
so vote for me purely for my supreme mental agility.
Anybody else hear my mom calling me home for dinner?!
Looks like he doesn't need me anymore. I'm honestly relieved.
Now it's just you, me,
and this Death Star Lego set
I thought we could meticulously assemble.
Actually, Valerie Jarrett and I have tickets to Magic Mike Live.
- Can I tag along? - No.
I'll just go get some ice cream. By myself.
New guy's eatin' a ham sandwich!
I feel like a drone!
I'm gonna run for president, huh?
In other news, CNN just released a poll
showing the President's approval rating at an all-time suck.
Only way to cheer up from that?
Boom... new couch.
"All-time suck"?! Ugh!
Am I gonna lose the job I hate?
Kellyanne! Kellyanne! Come quick!
It's a polling miracle!
- Over here! - Mr. President! Mr. President!
A lot of people have been saying that I believe in magic,
that I once beefed so hard in an elevator
that the sprinklers went off, that I believe in fairy tales.
I'm here to tell you that my internal poll is real,
and it says that I'm more popular than ever!
- Here it is! - Whaaah?
Some people have internal polls inside them
called self-worth or some stupid bullshit.
But I don't need that, because I have my internal poll
to tell me why I am good.
Oh, wow! It's me!
Who's your internal poll, Jim Acosta?
My friend Louis. He always compliments my ties
even when I know they're bad.
Okay. Shut up. Back to me.
You see, the people in our lives that lie to us
in exchange for money, power, and airtime,
they're the real internal polls.
And to me, that's magic.
Right, but the latest
Quinnipiac poll shows you losing in...
Okay, get the fuck out of my house.
Kellyanne! Get 'em out!
The White House is currently being engulfed in flames.
Please exit immediately, or you will be arrested
for aiding and abetting a fire!
So this Super Tuesday,
let's think about all the great stuff I did
before I ever worked for Barack Obama.
Hey, did I ever tell you about my other best friend?
A nice fella named Strom Thurmond!
Joe. Stop.
Barack! What are you doin' here?
I thought you'd given up on me!
I was eating ice cream alone, when I spilled
a big glob of vanilla bean on my running tights.
What a dweeb! Sorry. Go on.
And it made me realize that I want to tell
these fine people about the Joe Biden I know,
the Joe Biden who slapped me so hard on the ass
after we passed Obamacare, my stool was red for a week.
Uh, and the guy who rubbed enough crusty old elbows
to help me pass Obamacare in the first place,
may it rest in peace.
So, as a tribute to my closest personal work friend,
I'd like to endorse Joe Biden for Vice President
from 2008 to 2016!
Thanks, folks!
And thank you, Barack, for once again letting me
clamp down on your coattails with my big fake horse teeth!
Hey, Mr. President.
Thanks for not firing my mean ass.
Eh. Don't worry about it. You'll get me back whenever.
Okay, Mr. President, it's time for your flattery enema!
- Open wide! - We'll do two tomorrow.
Right now we gotta find that internal poll!
You get the flashlight. I'll get the stun gun.
Wait. What the fuck?! What about all that stuff you just said?
I was getting the press off our tail.
♪ Ohhhh, Polllliiieee ♪
♪ Where are you? ♪
I have enough for a book.
I don't know why the fuck I'm still here.
Trump!
- Synced and corrected by Firefly - - www.addic7ed.com -