John Oliver Monologue
by Emily Drouillard
Hello, and welcome to Last Week Tonight. I’m John Oliver, and tonight we are going to start out talking about politics.
I know, surprise surprise. But what else is there to even talk about? This election cycle is continuously striving to out do itself each and every day. It just won’t settle. It’s like special effects in movies. They began as small, practical effects that brought exhilaration to what you were watching. But as time went on, we could tell a lot of it was really fake.
So, technology advanced, we demanded our special effects get bigger, get better, appear more real to us. And that has left us where we are today. While it would be very naive to even pretend politics hasn’t always been the shit-slinging scandal sanctuary we know and love it to be, this time we have somehow actually gone above and beyond that.
The old elections are like the effects of E.T flying in front of the moon, or casting spells in Harry Potter. We know it’s fake, but it’s part of the game, part of the mystique, it’s simple. 2016, on the other hand, is more like an enormous C4 and gasoline atomic bomb Transformers orgy led by Michael Bay if he had a worse coke habit than he probably already does.
In the attempt to continue holding onto our attention like a desperate ex girlfriend, realism has flown out the door and we are left with a pissing contest. In those movies, the explosions, the fights, the special effects take the wheel while the plot and dialogue sit firmly in the backseat, hoping they can at least throw in a tolerable line of dialogue or slightly logical story arc during the ride, or even just turn off that Linkin Park song on the radio. Seriously, it’s really bad. Why are they in every action movie?
As we know, life often imitates art and this is no exception. We’ve let discussion of the policies and our trust in facts and the democratic system fade away. Trump has proven, with this plethora of fact checked statements, that he can say literally whatever he likes, truth be damned. He could try to claim that the sun is a hoax and people would still be defending it somehow.
(Holds up packet that presumably intern researched very well)
But clearly, we’ve talked about this before. You’ve heard me liken Trump to a child, a bully, a monster, just like most publications, and even Republicans. He brags about not paying taxes and sexually assaulting women yet nothing happens.
It has become clear that, like with the advance of technology in film effects, we’ve reached a new level. Big action movies have a surprisingly large amount of CGI, even for things that could be done practically, but would just take a little more effort.
Donald Trump is this new way of “enhancing” action films, by having so many effects stuffed in each scene that you’ve essentially created an animated film. And there’s nothing wrong with animation. But I paid to see a live action movie, not what looks like a walk through of a video game. And he may be my favorite character, but I do not plan on voting for Patrick Star for leader of Bikini Bottom.
So how do we even talk about the ridiculous things Trump says, with any degree of surprise that he says them or that they have such little effect on his campaign? Michelle Obama has said “When they go low, we go high.” But I’m not here to get high. That’s for after filming. I’m here to get low. Lower than Lil Jon in that song “Get Low”. Lower than the hardest level of limbo. Lower than the neckline of that horrible dress J.Lo wore to the 2000 Grammys.
Our politicians are mature enough to not stoop to Trump’s level, but because I’m not a politician,Bu I would like to stoop on their behalf.
Donald, I know you’re watching this, because we all saw the hissy fit you threw after this week’s Saturday Night Live. You’re probably relaxing at home with your feet up, a cigar in your mouth, and the blood of newborns on your face to keep your skin clear and fulfill your side of the pact with Satan. But I’m here to tell everyone the truth about you, so you’d better get Twitter open on your phone and get the stubby little sausage fingers ready to type so fast you need to get your screen replaced.
Which brings me to my first point, that Trump’s fingers are literally made of sausages. He had plastic surgery back in 1987 because it made him feel more masculine to touch his face and feel the soft caress of meat cylinders.
He was actually the one born in Kenya, not Obama, which is why he kept bringing it up so much. He was nervous people would think that about him, so he wanted to keep the attention elsewhere.
The Little Mermaid was actually originally a documentary of how Donald escaped his life in the sea and fell in love with Ivana.
Donald Trump is secretly terrified of Putin. He just can’t figure him out. Vladimir didn’t respond to his last flirtatious text and now Donald is worried he pushed away yet another lover by being emotionally unavailable, a side effect of sexually assaulting too many people. He’s hoping their next date to see the new Woody Allen film will end with more than just a kiss on the cheek.
His hair is completely real. 100%, entirely real. He harvests it from his lifelong companion Gunther, who lives in his closet. They made their arrangement so that Donald’s hair could actually age naturally with him, as they harvest continuously to keep the illusion alive.
Donald Trump has a collection of pure diamond dildos, was Saddam Hussein’s childhood best friend, never learned how to read a digital clock–only analog, was rejected from joining the Insane Clown Posse four times, was the bad guy every Spiderman movie ever, is addicted to plain tofu and thinks the Matrix is a documentary and still doesn’t get why people won’t call him Neo if he asks.
So, Donald, there you go. If you’re going to be honest, then so am I. I hope we’ve both made Michael Bay proud, because, in the end, isn’t that what all of this is really about?