Does anyone else think it’s unpresidential for candidates to engage in Twitter battles? What if Twitter had been around when America began? Hmmmm . . .
LINCOLN: Douglas is a cad and a masher. Furthermore, I declare that he is a mountebank! #Douglasforprez
DOUGLAS: Ooh, got me there, Linky. You, kind sir, are a jug-eared buffoon of the highest order! #Lincolnforprez
LINCOLN: I refuse to stoop to the level of my opponent. However, I will say I had the misfortune of sitting next to Douglas once and he smelled strongly of cheese. It was most unpleasant, even vomit-inducing. I threw up directly into my own mouth.
DOUGLAS: I will have you know that I also recall that day, good sir. I will not say what you smelled of. I will only point out a glorious new invention called toilet paper. Please, for the sake of all things holy, make use of it.
LINCOLN: #Douglasforprez, the only thing I will be wiping my posterior with is you at general election time.
DOUGLAS: @Lincolnforprez, those are fighting words, you punk-ass stretch job! Meet me in the public square for a duel at high noon.
LINCOLN: I am not familiar with this term “punk-ass.” However, Douglas, you clearly watch too many plays. I accept your challenge to meet at noon, but I prefer fisticuffs, Marquess of Queensbury rules, you filibustering, flabby, flatulent flake!
DOUGLAS: Fine, good sir. I’m going to give you some free rhinoplasty and take a few inches off of that prominent proboscus of yours. Now your nose will not arrive five minutes before you do for a change.
LINCOLN: You are revealing your class level, Stephen. One should never criticize physical characteristics someone is helpless to do anything about. You, however, can do something about your cheesy smell, and your bad comb-over. Ha ha! Comb-over! I just invented a new insult, too!
DOUGLAS: Eat me.
LINCOLN: Eat me? Eat me, he says. Perhaps he really is made of cheese. I am rolling on the floor laughing my rear end off over here. #ROFLMREO
DOUGLAS: Hey Stretch, I am experimenting with a new musical form. It’s talking to music, rather than singing. Check me out – – My name is Abe Lincoln! I have trouble thinkin’! I never use toilet paper so I’m always stinkin’!
LINCOLN: Talking to music? That will never prosper.
DOUGLAS: Again, I say eat me.
LINCOLN: This is getting boring. I’m going to bounce, Cheese man. See you at noon. Tape down your wig in preparation for the shellacking I’m going to give that cue ball you persist in referring to as your head.
DOUGLAS: Bastard! I’m going to biff you about the face and neck and beat the chiggers out of your unkempt beard, even if I have to stand on an apple crate to reach you, giraffe boy!
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