(Editor’s note: The following is a work of satire and is in no way intended to represent the actual behavior of any real person.)
Greg Gianforte, politician who assaulted reporter, to lead communications workshop
Hope everyone got a chance to grab bagels and coffee out in the hallway. We’re here today to discuss the fine art of media relations. As you know… okay, stop checking the goddamned news on Twitter. Focus, focus people, close out those apps, we’re here to learn how to shape headlines, not mindlessly read endlessly scrolling headlines like an iZombie. Alright, let’s get started.
As a politician, you’re supposed to represent the public and not just your electorate. You have to recognize that the media plays an invaluable role in our society: that of watchdog, educator, fourth estate, purveyor of sometimes life-saving information about natural disasters and crime, source of the real skinny on community events and volunteer opportunities, authority on store closings and sewer-rate hikes, and shameless perpetrator of extremely biased and unfair fake news that is completely fabricated by malefactors unless it presents me in a positive light and words everything exactly like I would like it to be worded.
OOOH YEAH BROTHER, let me tell you that any dishonest elite media rolling around in a faded coffee-stained dress shirt, ink-stained khakis and a 1993 Toyota Tercel, totally out of touch with the common man, who doesn’t smell what this senator is cooking is going to get smacked down, stone cold. I GUARANTEE IT BROTHER.
If a reporter dares to ask you, an innocent Congressman completely minding his own business, how the Congressional Budget Office assessed the most recent health care bill, hit him with a clothesline, then a series of chops, followed by a celebratory “Whoo!” then a piledriver that drops him headfirst into the mat, then a brain buster and then the good ole mindlessnessbuster like they used to land in Smoky Mountain Wrestling back when kayfabe was real and back before everyone sold out, man.
If this journalist, this so-called fake news practitioner, wants to know how we’ll stop school children from being slaughtered in the very schools where they’re supposed to be safe, slam your opponent on your back with a suplex, then a reverse suplex, then a reverse reverse suplex and cap it off with a steel chair to the back while the easily distractible referee is conveniently distracted.
If the ink-soiled wretch wants to know how to pursue gun control, you should devastate him with a powerbomb, an energysaverbomb, and a coalpoweredpollutionbomb until he’s warbling on his feet. Then take him down with a moonsault and then a lionsault that is totally different from a moonsault, totally different really. Those are two completely different words. Moon, lion, not the same thing at all.
Go for the pin and when he kicks out, switch to a submission. Cinch his legs into a Boston Crab, then a Suburban Boston Crab and then a Seriously Boston’s Urban Sprawl is Like Half the Goddamned State, Sorry I Meant Commonwealth, Crab.
Still won’t tap out? Still won’t give up, after all that? Try a Diving Bulldog, a Stop Looking at me so Piteously Dog, the Chicken’s Already Gone off my Plate You Dumb, Insatiable and Completely Shameless Dog and a DDT, which is not the chemical but a gravity-enabled move that’s way easier than a body slam but still looks cool.
When he kicks out of the next pin, it’s time to get leggy. You have to put your best first forward when looking to suppress Freedom of the Press and trash the First Amendment. Land a dropkick. Follow it up with a superkick and then a diving calf kick and then a punch kick and then a flying thrust kick and then a flying spinning heel kick and then a kick kick and then a double kick kick. It looks nowhere near impressive as literally any kick in the first 10 minutes of a bootleg kung fu flick obtained from an inner-city mall kiosk, but a 250-lb. wrestler doesn’t look like he could bend over to tie his shoelaces.
That kick thing, which is like punching with your feet, should work but if it doesn’t, drive him face first into the mat with a Diving Descent into Fascism and splash for the three-count.
And if that doesn’t work, distract the ref, such as by pointing and gesticulating. Grab a metal chair and brain the journalist with a clobbering blow. Pin him when he stops twitching.
So in conclusion, if you can imagine Jim Ross hollering “bah God, that man had a family,” you’re ready to advance to step 2, preparing the perfect press release that will get you noticed and maximize your earned media. We’ll take it to the next level after the break. Restrooms are on the left.
By Joseph S. Pete