The Big O would bring a big steamin' pot of bullschit to feed the mentally weak. And between fainting spells, they would eat hardily.
Slick would come strollin' in, lower lip firmly between his teeth, wondering all the while how he is going to get back in the White House.
Between the two, the lying would go on 'til the sun came up. The two of them are expert at bullschit spewing. And the starry-eyed crowd is mesmerized.
Party on.