About all that I saw was the introduction of the two candidates and the moderator, who happened to be that really smart guy on PBS. I realize that saying a "smart" guy on "PBS" is somewhat redundant, but I need the extra words to fill up this column.
I have stomached my way through televised presidential debates before, and sometimes I believe the moderators of these debates are too smart for our own good. They ask smart guy questions I don't always understand or even care that much about. (I don't run into that particular problem with "Storage Wars – Texas.")
Sometimes you need a regular, average guy moderating these events. Someone who will ask simple questions and expects, no, demands, simple answers. Instead of complicated questions like "How would your administration tackle the current devaluation of the dollar against the yen in developing nations of the African sub-continent?" I would ask much simpler questions like "What the heck are you people doing to my country?," and I would follow that up with, "Are you guys total morons?"
At this particular debate on domestic policy, my sole question to both of these esteemed candidates would have been simply this: If you are elected or re-elected to the office of the President of the United States, what do you plan on doing about the current Box Elder Bug situation?
My house is presently being inundated with approximately four to 16 billion Box Elder Bugs, and I want someone other than me to do something about it. I am ready for my government to step in and take action. I do pay taxes after all.
The other night my wife went outside armed with some bug spray and declared war against the little pests. She laid siege to our pastel yellow siding with the noxious liquid, and we awoke the next morning to see our sidewalk covered with Box Elder Bug carcasses. It appeared as though she had won the battle.
But alas, it only made them mad, for that very night, the bugs came back with a vengeance. The sight of their fallen comrades evidently stirred them into a frenzy as they beat their black and red wings like war drums buzzing around my head.
Another round of spraying took place, and another round of insect termination followed shortly after. This dance of buggy death has taken place on my front stoop all week long, and they just keep coming back.
So far, we have done pretty well at holding off the conquering horde from breaking through the perimeter of our outer walls and getting to the inside of our house. That is, until the other night.
You see, my 7-year-old daughter has taken her own approach to this situation. She took her cute little bug keeper box that someone got for her as a gift and picked out one of the vile little insects to keep as a pet. She named it Fuzzy. The story gets worse.
The following day, she decided that Fuzzy was hungry. Being the humanitarian that she is, she went out to get some grass and leaves for the creature to eat and some sticks so he could climb around and get some exercise. She also picked out another Box Elder Bug to keep Fuzzy company. She named this one "Bugzilla."
So now the scene at my home is one of contrasting beliefs. Outside lays a wasteland of total carnage as the little deceased bodies are swept away, while on the inside, my daughter has tea parties with Fuzzy and Bugzilla in attendance.
As all this goes on, I just sit in my chair, caught in the middle, waiting for my nation's leadership to take a stand on this issue. I guess I'll have to wait until November.
Meanwhile, until this country gets it's priorities straight and figures out an answer to this problem, one thought pervades my sub-conscious as far as this Box Elder Bug problem goes: I wonder what that smart guy on PBS would do?
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