BIDEN: My fellow Americans, I’m—is this, is it going? Oh! Okay, well. Hello there, Facebook. Here’s the deal: today, we’re facing a crisis like our nation has never seen. This corona situation, well, it ain’t your father’s virus. Or your mother’s, for that matter, if you like. Folks, there’s a few things you gotta be straight on here. You gotta stay at home, that’s the first thing. I know you young people all wanna be down at the roller derby or what have you—I mean hell, I was young once! I know my way around a junket—but ya gotta be smart here. That’s number two. We all gotta be smart. Not a joke, folks! This corona, this isn’t a one-and-done, shot-of-penicillin-in- -your-salami-and-you’re-back-in-the-saddle type of situation. It’s the real deal. 

It’s like back in 2006, when President Obama and I cured the Ebola virus. We were in the lab one day, fiddling with proteins and the like, and I thought why not put a splash of some antibodies in there. And that was the Ebola vaccine, folks. And I remember Barack looked me in the eye, right, dead in the eye, and he said “Joe, I can’t wait to endorse you.” And folks, he did. That’s what this campaign’s all about, coughing into your elbow, type of thing. 

Sacrifice, it isn’t easy! I mean, hell, this whole thing’s been rough on me too! I’m a hugger, real physical kinda guy. Best I can do now to show affection is a big ol’ wink and coupla finger guns, and it’s just not the same, let me tell you. Used to be you could give any Tom, Dick, or Harry the ol’ Fifty-Fifty Runaround, except on Easter Sunday cause they’d all be dressed in their Sunday Best, and Sister Adelaide, she was real particular about the wrinkles, would go up and down the row, we’re standing stiff as boards, mind you, with a shuffle-cue in her hand checking all our shirtsleeves for cigarette butts, and if she found one of them that shuffle-cue would find your caboose quick as lightning, and let’s just leave it at that. That’s sacrifice, folks. That’s dignity. Hell, that’s America!

Now you see,  that’s why Trump is so dangerous. We’ve got to beat him folks. We’ve got to beat him like a drum, like scrambled eggs, like me and the Wilmington Wildcats did Joey Pulaski in the summer of ’59 after he said my Buick Skylark looked like it had a few too many miles on it, I gave him a shiner you could see all the way from Dover, I don’t mind telling ya. Where I come from, guy like him, I’d be taking out behind the gym for a quick rub-a-dub in the tub, teach him a thing or two about well if you’re gonna give ME lip then you’re gonna get knocked up good, man. That’s what we used to be in this country. And this guy, he’s done away with all of that. I’m gonna be the president of backalley beatdowns, and, well, if you don’t like that then I’d like to see how many pushups you can do. I’m limber as a damn mongoose, and don’t let anyone tell ya different.

Listen, folks, this here’s the most important election in a generation, or at least since 2016. It’s a big fucking deal! And remember, we’re grading on a curve here, okay? A lot of you were passionate about the other guy, Mr. Bernie Samberg, but he’s on my team now. Don’t you Pinkos worry — I’m about as progressive as they come! I believe in Medicare for, ya know, yeah! I wear blue ties! Abortion, too—I’ve always fully supported a woman’s choice to keep her baby. And if you’re a fella and you wanna, with another dude, ya know, play the ol’ back seat bingo, sure! I got no problem with that! 

My friend Nelson Mandela, good friend, once said to me that you should always judge people not by what they are, but by what they’re not. And folks, I’m not Donald Trump. These days, we take what we can get. Thank you and God bless the troops. 

Anyway, that’s a wrap. Good shoot, everyone. Eddie, when does this thing air?

TECHNICIAN: We’re still live, Mr. Vice President. 

BIDEN: Well, shut it down then! Man, it’s hot in here. My pits are soaked. I’ve always had moist, moist underarms, about since the day I became a man in a tiny little bungalow at Camp Wetchahaka with “Fancy” Nancy Cartwright. The night was—


—J. Wickline