That's right, value seekers -- and there's a seeker born every minute -- we're having our quadrennial Presidential Liquidation Sale days early, by popular demand... (and by our own insistence that we get all these odds and ends out of here, and out from under foot, before someone in this overstuffed warehouse accidentally gets hurt or maimed.)

We might have lost our lease!  (Although Aunt Tilly says it might be in the junk drawer.)  We've definitely lost our minds!  (You kidding me?  This campaign has gone on long enough to drive anyone completely bats.)  But, we haven't yet lost our nerve!  (That's right, if you don't come see us today, we can't make any money!)

You name it, we've got it!  Come in today while selection is still best!  We've got slightly irregular online pieces and blurbs... factory-second factoids and full-length facts... as well as custom-spun yarns and well-waxed tales -- and, all with your mind in mind!

Preheat environment to global heating specifications.  Take a bitterly split America.  Smear with layers of rich, premium, Citizens United (TM) dough.  Add an overabundance of cracked, mixed nuts (right side only).  Beat incessantly for 3.9 years, or until population is completely frothy.

Next, fold in sprayable, fully buttered-up and money-sweetened manure.  Turn heat up under mixture via lack of media controls.  Poke at constantly with sharp stick until entire mass is boiling and seething.  Using no intelligent guidance whatsoever, serve with seasonal sides:  Delusional Greed Cakes (Republicans), Repetitive Dismay Bars (Independents and Greens), and Wishful Thinking Cookies (Democrats).

(For extra texture, add Surprise Blowout Frosting, available from Hurricane Whimsies by Sandy -- now with boutique locations from the Bahamas and up into Canada.)

FLOOR DIRECTOR:  ... in five... four... three... [silent gestures: two fingers, one finger...]

TALKING HAIRDO:  People in low-laying areas all along the mid-Atlantic Seaboard, north, as well as hundreds of miles inland, are being asked to look at their buttocks in their household and workplace mirrors and then wave to them -- buh-bye, kiss-kiss.

ANNOUNCER:  Oh, er, ahumph.  We interrupt our coverage -- wait.  Sorry.  Hold on a sec. Yes.  Our apologies.  We've been informed that announcement's a bit premature.  Willard Romney has not yet been elected President of the United States of America, although we understand those arrangements are now underway.

However, just as soon as we receive confirmation from RomneyWorld and GOP world "Manipulate the Vote!" headquarters that the fix is not only in, but an actual done-deal, today's announcement regarding the status of your buttocks will be repeated, along with suggestions how you can best wish them good-bye, along with tips on how to make do without them.

We now return you to our ratings-pumping, product-pimping, revenue-geyser we like to call our 24-7, Action News Team's Special Apocalypse, Weather-Tracker SWAT Unit's Armageddon Alert 2012 Newsflash Headline and In-Depth Mobile Coverage First-Response Broadcast-Elite Shock Troops, always the first at Channel One with boots on the ground in your neck of the woods, whether your woods are standing or flattened...

It started out like a regular day, as I think back on it:  Waking up, stumbling and side-stepping over the dogs on the way to the bathroom, then bumbling out to the kitchen to make coffee.

If I'd been more awake, I would probably have caught the first clue that something was out of whack somewhere... and that someone had better order more whack right away.

OK, so I'll keep to the facts -- you say everyone's a comedian, I say everyone's a critic.

So, anyway:  To notice the coffee maker was a slightly different size and shape right then required more lights on in the head that I had at that point, you know?  To have noticed that the one on the kitchen counter was blue, and not black and that fake chrome -- well, that would have been just showing off, that early in the morning.

Plus, there was the usual morning blur to contend with -- dogs needing to go outside and back in, my partner getting ready to go off to work, the normal, choreographed chaos of morning -- a sort-of breakfast while sort-of making a lunch while sort-of listening to the half-tuned-in radio, while the dogs twirled below, happy to again see the stainless steel bowls of kibble hovering overhead and then become floorbound...