And It Was All A Dream ... Or WAS IT?

 By the Comics Curmudgeon 
Those of us who have been forced (either for vaguely professional reasons or by sheer cussed compulsion) to follow the presidential campaign over the past year or so might use a number of terms or phrases to describe it. "Dreamlike," perhaps. "Nightmarish," maybe. Or possibly, "A horrible, violent mescaline hallucination during which we begged God to kill us." But did the candidates feel the same way? We have some evidence, in cartoon form, that maybe one of them did!

 
 Poor Hillary! Most red-blooded Americans areenjoyingtheir wet dreams about Barack Obama right about now, but she just sits there sullenly, while her husband taunts her. That's understandable, though; whileyourdreams about Barack Obama consist of him earnestly talking about health care reform and foreign policy while slowly unbuttoning his shirt, hers were a little bit ... different. Let's take a look, shall we?

 
 Hillary's dream started off pretty good ... for her. At last, people realized the beneath his happy-go-lucky, all-American exterior, Obama was secretly a Muslim king, with a sinister Arab advisor! Also, he had a whorish harem girl whom he had impregnated, who was super-sexy except for her enormous lips and lack of a nose. She represents his black Muslim church, obviously. And because he wore his terrorist Arab garments, the whole world could see his scrawny little legs! Ha ha! Look at those toothpicks! He's not sexy now, is he, America?

 
 But then it started to get weird. Obama was still a Muslim, but now he was the Farrakhan kind, not the Bin Laden kind. And Bill wanted her to "dance" with him! We all know what that represents! After all these years, you'd think that he'd be done humiliating her, but apparently not. All she could do was sit alone by the wall and guard her precious, precious genitals.

 
 Later, she was eaten by a coyote (something about illegal immigration, maybe?), and, while she was still only partway down the beast's ravenous gullet, the foul creature attempt to chase and catch a grinning, demon-eyed Obama-bird, only to plummet to its death in the arid southwest (it has to be about illegal immigration, I just know it!).

 
 And yet still her torment wouldn't end.

How many gnomish superdelegates would she have to service before the nomination would be hers? How many? Is it worth it, just for the chance to run for president against John McCain?

 
 ... John McCain, who was ready to unleash at a moment's notice his secret weapon: his terrifying 12-foot-long prehensile penis-foot. Oh, Hillary, you say that a woman can do anything a man can do in the presidency; but she they cow foreign leaders with their awesomely horrifying genitalia, and strangle them with it, if necessary?

 
 Who could even serve as a running mate for the possessor of such a mighty member? Bobby Jindal, Charlie Crist, and Mitt Romney were forced to prove their worth by attempting to romance an angry wooly mammoth. And that's when Hillary realized that there were worse things than not being president.