Marco Rubio’s Recent ‘Town Hall’ Was Just Forty Minutes Of Self-Affirmations

Marco Rubio is not so much a human being running for President of the United States of America as he is the amalgam of cartoonishly sad character flaws: He’s the brown-noser from Sunday school who was convinced he’d inherit the largest mansion in heaven, he’s the kid on your street who was angered to discover little girls also rode bikes, he’s a fast food wrapper floating on the ocean’s ripples — serving as a tragic reminder of the existence of all his garbage counterparts.

So it’s really only befitting to his #Brand that Rubio’s recent “Town Hall” in South Carolina featured audience questions, which defeats the whole purpose of a Town Hall. I can’t blame him, though; if I had the kind of eloquence that resulted in such statements as “Wrong is now considered right, and right is now considered wrong,” I would also prevent potential voters from engaging with or challenging my policies, for fear they would kill the deep flow of poetic genius emanating from my the void where my soul was likely excavated.

It’s no small task hosting an inarticulate reptilian overlord within your mechanical and confusingly attractive human body, which is likely why in moments of pressure Rubio has been known to name-drop Jesus — probably in hopes that God himself will descend from the heavens and save him from his failure to achieve his Illuminati leadership goals.

His town hall in South Carolina was not so much a failure, or disrespectful to the intelligence of his potential voters, as it was a long and much needed self-affirmation for Rubio, a monologue delivered in order to convince himself and all those attending that he does, in fact, still exist.