We, The People, didn't think it was possible after Germany giddily elected Mr. Obama President of the Universe (and after seeing how friggin hot he looked in his black polo shirt helicoptering around war zones), but now it appears that Mr. Obama, America's hope for cleansing us of four more years of Refuglican shenanigans, could lose the election that was his to win.

Why? Simple: political ad porn.

Since the release of McSmarm's Paris Hilton ad, a boon for her (now she too's running for president), anything goes. Thus begins the onslaught to come of political ad-porn, drummed up by the snaky imaginations of Johnny Prisoncamp, now infiltrating the national image-scape. By association, Obama is depicted as a ditzy fame whore, a hapless greenhorn, a flimsy-willed George McFly, a Little Lord Fontleroy taking various excursions that suit his fancy. The message? Obama is an elitist milquetoast, or, an overeducated white guy.

Tossing Mr. Obama into the silky slippers of Miss Hilton, who, busy partying, kills puppies by locking them in closets and forgetting about them, seems a stretch. Even McShame's old mom, who's like 100 years old, called the ad "kinda stupid."

But the point is, McBlame's posse is scoring lethal blows. The indelible images, no matter how absurd, confounding, and hilarious, create impressions that bore deeply into American soft brain tissue, a gushy thing highly susceptible to all kinds of crap.

So, Mr. Obama, just how far will the Refuglican party go to win the highest office in the land?

My mother, a little old lady who was the first to peg G. W. Bush as "a ninny," predicts McShame & Co. are "right now in Africa, drumming up a story about how Obama's related to a bunch of cannibals." That's how far! This means, Mr. Obama, you just might be -- f'd.

But buck up, O! Yes you can outmaneuver the Karl Rovian smear machine. In fact, you have to.

Two hundred thousand Germans can't be wrong, if we deny 1945.

A lot of shiny people are counting on you to do a few things. Like resuscitate the American dream. Like romance the Whole Wide World into lurving us again. Because we Americans, who believe in the sterling good of our big sloppy hearts, hate being burned in effigy in dusty, scary parts of the world. We are good, goddamn it. And f--k you all who don't believe it.

What am I saying, Mr. Obama? Know not just your enemy, and learn to kick him in the nads, swiftly and directly, but seize back the brain tissue of that sizable block of voting folk who still don't know what the heck to make out of a skinny black guy who's really smart, drinks organic tea, and goes to the gym. They still claim to "not know who you are."

Since it is not entirely practical at this point to hit them all on the head with planks, as a quick means to enlightenment, we bring you a plan of what to do by knowing what not to do.

THE TOP TEN WAYS YOU, MR. OBAMA, CAN SCREW IT ALL UP, AND PLUNGE US ALL INTO ETERNAL DESPAIR FOR GENERATIONS TO COME

10. DON'T BLOW OFF THE FACT THAT A LOT OF AMERICAN FATSOS THINK YOU ARE ‘TOO SKINNY' TO BE PRESIDENT

Sadly, for progress, many Americans still choose their president by whom they can ‘have a beer with,' or, guiltlessly scarf down a rack of Oreos.

This ilk, a big block of the voting public, believe that if you can't devour a pound of fried mozzarella sticks, chased by a pitcher of beer, and like it, you just don't have the nuts to punch out a terrorist in a bowling alley parking lot. In other words, you're a woose.

SOLUTION #1: GET FAT

How? Supersize your ass to ‘stuck-in-a-theater seat' size on the 30-DAY plan, just in time for the Democratic Convention.

This method has been tested by Supersize Me fat-martyr Mr. Morgan Spurlock, a filmmaker who McDonald'ed his way to total flubbery. But prepared to experience liver failure, mood swings, and sexual dysfunction. This is the cost of winning the presidency, even if you'll be sworn in on your dialysis machine.

SOLUTION #2: PULL THE JESUS CARD

Remind America of a fat-challenged president who saved the country from splitting in two: scrawny lankster Abe Lincoln. And for the faith-based public, whose vote you desperately need, namedrop the biggest savoir of all, that wisp of bean pole: Jesus.

9. DON'T GO INTO ANOTHER BOWLING ALLEY AND ROLL A DEPLORABLE SCORE OF 28, OR WHATEVER IT WAS

While Ms. Hillary Clinton can get away with all kinds of average American leisure activities, like tossing back whiskeys in a dart bar, you simply can't without seeming a bit phony.

You tried, with the bowling thing, but no common ground was achieved by this. In fact, this gave American voters who carry their own engraved balls in monogrammed bags a little sense of superiority over you. And this means they don't want you - a bit of a loser - on their team for president.

Bowling shoes are unsanitary, anyway.

8. CONTINUE TO BE SMART AND COOL BUT NOT TOO SMART AND TOO COOL

You - congratulations - graduated top in your class from Harvard, and were named editor of the law review. But this isn't necessarily a vote-getter.

Smart, cool, and I'd do you. But a reactionary bunch of American eyes glaze over and think 'smarty pants beatnik.'

What you're up against is the image of Mr. Johnny McLame, not wearing a black turtleneck but a uniform. He graduated from the toilet, a hilarious 894^th out of 899 from Annapolis Naval Academy.

As a young turd, McLegacy dressed up real nice. Unfortunately, this mock-hero look counts for something in the softer parts of American brain tissue. Too bad his shiny uniform buttons are smarter than him.

While it is very sad that a lump of cheese graduated ahead of McSlack, it is sadder still that he is actually dumber than G.W. Bush, who was ranked below a table leg, at Yale. But look. None of this matters. America obviously doesn't give a crap how smart or cool its presidents are, as long as they aren't too smart or too cool. If 'vastly superior and capable' were qualities revered in America, Mac would be outselling PC by gobs. And McDrainpipe would be begging that lump of cheese for a job.

7. GET MAD, EVEN IF IT'S A LITTLE

We hear that the Obama campaign's wimpy new mantra is "McCain is an honorable man running a dishonorable campaign."

This is a really lame Boy Scout way to say McCrab is a jealous, scheming, two-faced douche whose only concern is carving out his last hurrah before kicking off his $550 loafers and spending all his wife's beer money.

At root, it's all about him.

It is unfortunate that America respects a loud mouth. You have to work with this.

A COUNTER-AD THAT SHOWS AMERICA WHO YOU ARE, MR. OBAMA, IN ITS BIG FAT FACE

SETTING: The gym, any.

ACTION: Obama steps off a treadmill. He fans himself with his Harvard diploma. He sips organic tea. He spits.

OBAMA: "Hey McLame! What part of raised by a single mother in lower-middle class Kansas and putting myself through college don't you understand?"

ACTION: Obama slams down his organic tea, with gusto.

OBAMA: "Hey McDouche! This organic tea won't pollute my colon. The leaves were grown on a sustainable farm, locally. What part of saving the earth from Diet Coke jerks like you married to beer heiresses who unnecessarily own eight houses don't you understand?"

ACTION: A disabled, decorated war veteran hobbles up on one leg.

OBAMA: "Hey McScrew! You voted against college scholarships for war veterans. What part of helping guys whose limbs were blown off in wars that should have never fought in the first place don't you understand?"

ACTION: Obama hands his diploma to the war veteran who sheds a nice round tear...

So the language might need to be toned down. But you get the point. Channel your inner Rocky. Don't let McSmear get an inch. If he does, shove a mile of his own medicine right back up his Panama-born ass.

6. PLEASE DON'T REMIND US EVER AGAIN THAT YOU'RE A DISTANT RELATIVE OF DICK CHENEY

This is a total buzz kill. The image of a DNA connection to a man who shot another man in the face with a turkey gun, got away with it, then continued to ruin the country by being a paranoid douche, is utterly repulsive. I know several who threaten to vomit their daily shots of wheatgrass through their noses if this image of generational fornications that link Mr. Cheney's gonadic chain with yours is brought up ever again.

White guys and what they like is so confounding.

While your supporters would rather it that your were spawned immaculately, they are willing to accept your claim of Wild Bill Hickock as a distant cousin. This is because we are in mythical territory here, eating cans of beans under the stars and all that. This improbable link makes you kind of fun.

5. DON'T FORGET THAT WHITE GUYS WHO WANT TO BE, OR ARE, PRESIDENT CAN GET AWAY WITH BEING DUFUSES; BLACK GUYS WHO WANT THEIR JOBS CAN'T

The self-assigned American gentry, like McBush and McNam, pick your honky of inherited privilege, are permitted to be total dufuses wherever they go. You, not being completely white, or having inherited status, cannot.

Bush, McCain, Golf carts. Same thing.

4. DON'T CHANGE IN ANY WAY YOUR - OR YOUR WIFE'S - SARTORIAL GENIUS

White shirt, no tie. Yes.

Orange. Big white pearls. Yes.

3. BE ENCOURAGED THAT SOME OF McSMEAR'S AD PORN WILL BITE HIM IN THE ASS

The ad porn ad that slops Ms. Paris Hilton's celebrity status onto you, Mr. Obama, has forced the mother of Ms. Hilton to take time from the super busy life of being stinking rich to do something resembling work - like sit down and write a retort about how he's wasting her donation money.

This ad has also encouraged Miss Hilton the Younger to toss her sequined halter top into the ring and run for president herself. Finally, she's been given a focus and something to do, which is really the best thing that's happened so far in this entire presidential race. But, in effect, the circus that spins from the circus will divert squooshy American brain matter away from you. And that's good for the home team.

2. STOP TALKING TO LADY OP-ED JOURNALISTS LIKE VULTURE LADY MAUREEN DOWD WHO DISLIKES ANYONE AND EVERYTHING THAT GETS A LITTLE ATTENTION

Flying back from your tour abroad, you somehow got to talking with New York Times journalist Ms. Dowd, who you allowed on O-Force One. Beware the nail-polish assassin of this sort. She made you look like a gee whiz rube, wide-eyed over your excellent adventure, quoting you saying things like "I had no idea you're supposed to bring presents to world leaders."

Look, O: Don't engage in banter with this sort of poison pen who came from a big family and didn't get the choice potato at dinner time. She's jealous of everything shiny.

She creamed the crap out of Ms. Clinton, gleefully tearing her limb from limb, which served no purpose but to amuse the writer, whose job I wish I had just to get her off the goddamn pages of the NY Times.

Know that just because you were raised by women, and are thus super sensitive to their needs, and even play into them, not ALL vagina-endowed creatures deserve the time of day. Energy vulture ball-squeezers like funny ha-ha Ms. Dowd are kryptonite not just to you, but to anyone who's shooting for a star.

AND NOW, THE #1 MOST IMPORTANT WAY, MR. OBAMA, TO NOT SCREW IT ALL UP AND PLUNGE THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD INTO DESPAIR FROM HERE TO ETERNITY... CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT...