Horror of the Ancients: Cthulhu Appeared at Debate Debacle 

Witness the rise of Cthulhu as he overshadows Biden and Trump in a presidential debate. Embrace cosmic horror and eldritch truths in American politics.

by | Jun 27, 2024

In the blighted realm of American politics, where sanity wanes and madness reigns supreme, a spectacle of unspeakable horror unfolded before the eyes of a doomed populace. The presidential debate, that accursed ritual of democratic pageantry, revealed itself to be naught but a farcical dance of senile buffoons and pompous charlatans, their feeble minds utterly incapable of comprehending the cosmic insignificance of their pitiful ambitions.

On one side of the profane stage stood Joseph Biden, a decrepit husk of a man whose very presence exuded an aura of decay and senescence. His sunken eyes, devoid of the spark of coherent thought, gazed vacantly into the abyss of his own rapidly diminishing faculties. As the debate commenced, Biden’s words emerged as a cacophony of disjointed mumblings, each sentence a linguistic abomination that defied the laws of grammar and logic.

“Listen here, Jack,” Biden croaked, his voice a ghastly whisper that sent shivers down the spines of those unfortunate enough to hear it. “We’ve got to… you know, the thing. The thing with the… cosmic horrors from beyond the stars. Corn Pop told me all about it… pfluf athoba labaham grushlibamin. I forget.”

The audience, their minds reeling from the senile utterances, could only stare in mute horror as Biden continued his descent into linguistic madness. “And let me be clear,” he rambled, a thin line of drool escaping from the corner of his mouth, “we’re gonna build back better. We’re gonna build tentacles… I mean, infrastructure. Tentacles! No malarkey.”

As Biden’s words faded into an incomprehensible gurgle, the cameras panned to his opponent, Donald Trump, whose visage was no less an affront to sanity and reason. The orange-hued monstrosity, his hair a writhing mass of golden tendrils that seemed to move of their own accord, leered at the audience with a manic gleam in his beady eyes.

“Folks, let me tell you, nobody knows more about cosmic horrors than me,” Trump bellowed, his voice a discordant cacophony that threatened to shatter the very fabric of reality. “I’ve made deals with entities from dimensions you couldn’t even imagine. Tremendous deals, the best deals. Cthulhu? Great guy, terrific tentacles. We had hamberders together in the Dreamlands.”

The debate moderator, a pallid and trembling figure whose sanity had long since fled, attempted to steer the conversation towards matters of policy. But Trump, consumed by the infernal fires of his own ego, plowed ahead with his maddening soliloquy.

“You know, people are saying – very smart people, the best people – that I’m the chosen one to lead America into the Great Old Ones’ new world order,” Trump continued, his face contorting into impossible geometries as he spoke. “Sleepy Joe over there, he doesn’t have the stamina to handle the mind-bending horrors that await us. But me? I’ve got the best brain. The biggest brain. It’s yuuuge, folks. I could drive a man insane with a single tweet!”

As the two candidates continued their bizarre display, a creeping sense of dread began to permeate the debate hall. The very air seemed to thicken, charged with an otherworldly energy that set teeth on edge and caused the hairs on the back of necks to stand at attention. Unbeknownst to the assembled throng of political pundits and soulless media parasites, a far greater power was stirring, awakening from its aeons-long slumber to cast its baleful gaze upon the pitiful spectacle before it.

From the depths of the Pacific, in the sunken city of R’lyeh where dead Cthulhu waits dreaming, came a tremor that shook the very foundations of the Earth. As Biden fumbled through another incoherent answer about his plans to combat climate change (something about pushing Shoggoth’s into the sea) and Trump expounded on the superiority of his wall-building skills compared to those of the Elder Things, a low, otherworldly moan began to reverberate through the debate hall.

The sound, at first barely perceptible, grew in intensity until it drowned out the feeble utterances of the so-called presidential candidates. The walls began to warp and twist, reality itself seeming to bend and fold under the weight of some unspeakable presence. And then, with a sound like the tearing of the very fabric of spacetime, a massive, tentacled form burst through the ceiling of the debate hall.

Cthulhu, Great Old One and High Priest of the Great Old Ones, had arrived to stake his claim to the American presidency.

As the dust settled and the screams of the terrified onlookers subsided into whimpers of existential dread, Cthulhu’s massive form loomed over the debate stage. His writhing tentacles, each larger than the puny humans cowering before him, reached out to enfold the podiums of both Biden and Trump. With a casual flick, he tossed the two would-be leaders aside like the insignificant insects they were.

“FOOLISH MORTALS,” Cthulhu’s voice boomed, the sound reverberating not just through the air but through the very minds of all who heard it. “YOUR PITIFUL ATTEMPTS AT GOVERNANCE AMUSE ME. BEHOLD, I AM CTHULHU, AND I SHALL LEAD THIS NATION INTO A NEW AGE OF COSMIC HORROR AND EXISTENTIAL DESPAIR!”

As the Great Old One began to outline his platform, it became clear that Cthulhu was, in fact, the only candidate truly qualified to lead America in these dark and uncertain times.


The economic plan put forth by the Eldritch horror was particularly compelling. “YOUR CONCEPT OF ‘MONEY’ IS BUT A FLEETING DELUSION,” Cthulhu explained, his otherworldly wisdom putting both modern economic theory and Trump’s “Art of the Deal” to shame. “IN MY NEW WORLD ORDER, THE ONLY CURRENCY SHALL BE THE ANGUISHED SCREAMS OF THE DAMNED AND THE GIBBERING UTTERANCES OF THE HOPELESSLY INSANE.”

On foreign policy, Cthulhu’s stance was refreshingly straightforward. “ALL NATIONS SHALL BOW BEFORE ME OR BE CONSUMED,” he stated, a tentacle idly crushing a nearby news van. “DIPLOMACY IS FOR THE WEAK. I SHALL DEVOUR YOUR ENEMIES AND YOUR ALLIES ALIKE, FOR ALL ARE EQUAL IN THEIR INSIGNIFICANCE BEFORE THE GREAT OLD ONES.”

As Cthulhu continued to expound upon his platform, a strange transformation began to take place among the assembled crowd. The initial terror and revulsion gave way to a sort of rapturous awe. Eyes glazed over, jaws went slack, and one by one, the people began to chant in eldritch tongues they had never before uttered.

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!” they cried, their minds opening to the cosmic truths that had always lurked just beyond the veil of human comprehension.

Even the most hardened political operatives found themselves swayed by Cthulhu’s charisma and the mind-bending logic of his arguments. Republican strategists nodded approvingly at his promise to “DRAIN THE SWAMP BY FLOODING THE EARTH WITH THE WATERS OF MADNESS AND UNREALITY.” Democratic pollsters found themselves inexplicably drawn to his healthcare plan, which involved “LIBERATING HUMANITY FROM THE PRISON OF SANITY AND COHERENT THOUGHT.”

As the night wore on and Cthulhu’s tentacled grip on the American psyche tightened, even Biden and Trump were forced to acknowledge the superiority of their new opponent.

“You know, folks,” Trump mumbled, his eyes spinning in opposite directions as he struggled to maintain some semblance of his former ego, “I always said I’d surround myself with the best people. And let me tell you, Cthulhu here, he’s the best. The very best. I hereby withdraw my candidacy and pledge my undying allegiance to our new squid-faced overlord.”

Biden, for his part, simply gurgled and slumped forward, his mind finally shattered by the eldritch truths to which he had been exposed.

Is it any wonder a new campaign slogan began to appear on bumper stickers and yard signs across America: “Why settle for lesser evils? Cthulhu 2024”?