Dr. Frankenstein Describes That Time He Made Beto O’Rourke

I now begin to collect the materials necessary for my new creation, and the pressure I feel to create something that will defeat the Zodiac Killer in a Senate race in Texas is like the torture of single drops of water continually falling on the head.  Every thought I have is devoted to it and every word that I speak is an allusion to it which causes my lips to quiver, and my heart to palpitate.  I need to create a flawless sentient being. 

The materials at present within my command hardly appeared adequate to so arduous an undertaking, but I doubted not that I should ultimately succeed.  I resolved, contrary to my first intention, to make the being in the exact likeness of John Fitzgerald Kennedy with the graceful movements and oratorical skills of Barack Obama.  And Barack’s degree from Columbia.

I collected bones from charnel-houses and disturbed, with profane fingers, the secrets of the human frame. I took the jawline of Chris Hemsworth and the flawless tousled hair of Scarlett Johansson from the 2015 MTV Video Awards. I added the magnetism of Javier Bardem with the endearing country outlaw sensibilities of Willie Nelson and the determination of the ex-coach of Friday Night Lights’ Dylan Panthers Eric Taylor and sewed it all into my new creation’s brain.

In a solitary chamber, or rather cell, at the top of the house, and separate from all the other apartments by a gallery and staircase, I kept my workshop.  The dissecting room and the slaughterhouse furnished many of my materials.  I infused my being with the charm and wit of Julia Louis-Dreyfus and George Clooney and the sophistication of Prince Harry and Sean Connery and the magnetism of Scarlett Johansson and Ricky Martin and the bravery and pioneering spirit of Neil Armstrong and Meriwether Lewis and William Clark.

I prepared myself for a multitude of reverses; my operations might be incessantly baffled, and at last my work be imperfect, yet when I considered the improvement which every day takes place in science and mechanics, I was encouraged to hope my present attempts would at least lay the foundations of future success.   I added the intellect of Albert Einstein and Bill Gates and the toughness of Robert DeNiro in Raging Bull and Leonardo DiCaprio in The Revenant and the diplomatic adeptness of Otto von Bismarck and Theodore Roosevelt and the leadership acumen of Abraham Lincoln and the discipline of Michael Phelps and Roger Federer and the easy-going demeanor and relatability of Tom Hanks and the overarching boyish yet sexy gestalt of Matt Damon and Ryan Gosling.

Although I possessed the capacity of bestowing animation, yet to prepare a frame for the reception of it, with all its intricacies of fibres, muscles, and veins, still remained a work of inconceivable difficulty and labour. I doubted at first whether I should attempt the creation of such a being, but my imagination was too much exalted by the promise of defeating the Zodiac Killer to permit me to doubt of my ability to give life to an animal as complex and wonderful as the creature I decided to name Beto.  I gave him the stamina of Sting and the penchant for empathy of Pope Francis and Dorothy Day and the revolutionary spirit of Che Guevara and Cesar Chavez and the kindness of John Lennon and Gandhi and the skateboarding skills of Tony Hawk and Paul Rodriguez and the fun-loving fun-ness of Reese Witherspoon and the guitar skills of Slash mixed with Eddie Van Halen and the coolness of James Dean but a little Justin Timberlake too and the reverence for democracy of Thomas Jefferson and the passion of Walt Disney and J.K. Rowling and the resounding voice of Bruce Springsteen and  Winston Churchill.

My being was almost complete.  Once more to my laboratory I went to dismember and anatomize.  I gave my creature the dimples of Harry Styles from One Direction and the smirk of Adam Levine when he is about to steal from Blake Shelton on NBC’s “The Voice.”  Then I thought, “what the hell?” and added some of Blake Shelton’s smoldering country smolderingness to the anthropoid who would become Beto.

I trembled and my heart failed within me, when, on looking up, I saw by the light of the moon my creature declaring his candidacy and then visiting all 254 counties in the great state of Texas. A ghastly grin wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me, where I sat fulfilling the task which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had been endorsed by the Houston Chronicle and the Dallas Morning News; he had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge in wide and desert heaths; and he now came to mark my progress and claim the fulfilment of my promise.

How can I describe my emotions on the eve of this election, or how delineate the miracle whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form?  His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful.  And I just know that he can defeat the Zodiac Killer.   Go forth Beto.  Go forth. 

And I beseech the townspeople:  Vote, townspeople.  Vote.