They told me if I voted for McCain, the Vice-President would be a moron. And they were right!

"And now, it's time for Health Minute With Joe Biden, brought to you by the makers of Haldol.

Haldol: Because you never know when you might be a heartbeat away.

"Hey, gang--Joe Biden here. Today I gotta load a tips for you on dealing with that Mexican pig virus, the swine flu. And you can do all of these at home, too, because if you leave your house without good reason during a pandemic, your eyeballs will melt and run down your face like twin runnels a demonic snot and you'll scare the crap outta the kids, God love ya.

Anyway, the swine flu, or as we in the Situation Room like to jokingly call it, Invisible La Migra--is spread by contact with droplets from infected people.

So, the question is, is anyone you know leaking inappropriately? Snotty nose, tears, abnormal amounts a drool, more than two shakes at the john, runny ear wax like you might get from an improvised ear cleaning experiment involving Schweppes and a kitchen funnel gone bad, but not that, because you promised your wife you wouldn't try stupid shit like that anymore?

If they are, time to don your home-made hazmat suit and get to work. As you can see here, I made mine outta Saran Wrap, electrical tape, cottonballs and pipe cleaners so you can breath through it and stop the little Latin bugs from gettin' past the lips. And God knows I like to flap mine, right? As they used to tell me growin' up back in Scranton, "Geez, Joe, shut the hell up--that's creepy. And stop playin' with your toes in class."

The good news is, you can make it with stuff lyin' around the house. Anyway, I'm puttin' the suit on now.

[Unholy sound of twisting and rubbing plastic.]

[Muffled voice.] OK, as you can see, it's on now. Wow, this is snug. Not to mention hotter than hell. Man, I'm already startin' to sweat. Right down there by Big Joe and the twins, too.

Anyway, now it's time to put on the wife's extra set a cosmetic gloves to protect your hands. OK, all ready. Now you grab four cans a Play-doh. Why Play-doh? First, it's fun. Reminds me of watching Gumby and his dog growin' up, and the dog would say "I need more blood, Gumby" or somethin' like that. Hilarious!

Second, you use the Play-doh to cork up the openings where the discharge is coming from. Then you grab your duct tape and a straw. You duct-tape up your friend/relative/stranger, stick a straw in their mouth and toss them into the crawlspace or garage and leave 'em there until the flu's over. You feed 'em soup through the straw, but make sure it's something clear like tomato soup 'cause I just tried this with Arlen Specter and found out that chicken 'n stars will clog it and they'll never stop bitchin'.

Anyway, that's all the time we have now. Next time, we'll discuss eldercare and pet grooming during this end-times plague-thing we got goin' here. There's ways to combine it to save time, and I'll show you how.

Until then, I'm Joe Biden, reporting from an undisclosed location and remember: Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

For your consideration: two political hypotheses.

I'm not a reliable prognosticator, but here goes:

1. 9/11 "truth"erism was a peculiarly deranged byproduct of disdain for George W. Bush, and will, with the election of President Obama, wither away to nothing within 2 years.

2. If the economy really tanks (hard landing and not soft), we will see from the right re-runs of the old conspiracy theories about Clinton, except applied to Obama. And, unfortunately, these will gain much more traction than those against the 42nd President.

Myself, I'd go, run around the house chanting in Latin, spitting dyed creamed corn at everybody and generally have a good time with the family.

But that's just me.

My father's family, by contrast, sees mental illness as a stigma and has always disagreed with my approach to treatment. Recently, they invited me to my grandmother's birthday party. When I arrived, everyone was sitting solemnly around the living room, and the local pastor was there. He calmly explained to me that I was not actually mentally ill but possessed by agents of Satan and in need of an exorcism. I choked back tears as I explained to them that I did not need any demons driven out, and the evening ended awkwardly. Now they've invited me for Thanksgiving...

Speaking of going down swinging.

I spent two and a half hours GOTV phone-banking yesterday. Remarkably easy (we were hitting self-identified GOPers with a history of needing a kick to the backside). Don't have any real (as opposed to anecdotal) impressions, but I wasn't the only first timer.

Alas, no canvassing the undecided voters. Which meant I wasn't able to use my Barry White impression on the ladies and my R. Lee Ermey drill sergeant on the gents.

Oh, and another trespasser decided to try his origamy skills on my McCain sign (again sparing the No On Human Embryo Research sign), during the daylight (!) hours of Saturday while we were gone. I decided to respond by duct-taping a C battery to the sign, running a wire to the battery lead, taping that in place and digging a hole to run the other end of the wire into the ground. It won't do anything but make them think, but so far, so good.