Prison Daddy Sports Network is proud to have exclusive coverage to The Solution: America’s answer to the controversial 2020 election that prompted the nation’s stance of “anyone but these two” as president. After a Twitter battle that raged until Creepy Uncle Joe fell asleep at 7:30 p.m. on election night, it was decided Biden vs Trump would be the undercard for Jones vs Tyson. Nothing settles a good old American dispute like a ring match between old men.

We come to you live, virtually of course, from our Prison Daddy Sports studios. I’d like to apologize for the empty Natty Light cans and the periodic clouds of smoke that surround me. Skylar was supposed to clean up and stop smoking the refer, but after the mail-in ballot debacle, he announced himself as president on Instagram live and made chores illegal and weed mandatory. Of course, as always, During the COVID-Bud Light pandemic, this is brought to you exclusively by Corona: Not the virus, it wasn’t us, it was all Bud Light.

“Skylar, who do you like in today’s first fight?”

“The what?”

“The matchup between Biden and Trump.”

“Never heard of them.”

“The two presidential candidates, Joe Biden and the incumbent Donald Trump.”

“What’s a cucumber got to do with it?”

This isn’t going as well as we’d hoped when we landed the big event. We were able to win the contract for $1.50. None of the main networks bid over a dollar, claiming America was sick of both of these “clowns” and no one wanted to watch anymore. We knew that couldn’t be true. We currently have two viewers: Barack Obama and some guy named Timmy Jimmy.

This is fine, though. We have a plan.

We begin by lowering a cage around the ring and start playing old MTV Celebrity Death Match highlights. Our strategy is already proving fruitful: here come more viewers!

Let’s switch the feed over to Michael Buffer’s living room for the introductions. Of course, he’s not the real Michael Buffer; this dude just had the same name and agreed to do the intros for a six-pack of Corona: Not the virus, it wasn’t us, it was all Bud Light.

“And now entering the ring,” he begins, sounding pretty good so far, “at… hey, how tall is that old dude who always used to be in all those memes?”

Fuck, this isn’t professional! But I don’t know how tall Biden is, either. “Uh, six feet, 180.” It was the first thing that came to mind.

“At six foot even, one hundred and eight pounds of pure aging flesh and bones, your challenger this evening Creeeeeepyyy-Jooooooooe-BIIIIIIDDENNNN!”

Not bad. A little crack in the voice, but fuck it.

Biden walks down toward the ring wearing an all-blue suit and an N-95 mask. He waves at the mostly virtual crowd. Each candidate is allowed one fan at the venue, and Biden has invited a twice transgendered registered democrat that is 50% white, 50% black, 50% hispanic, and 50% other. Welcome, Tolerance! Let’s click over to the Zoom connection we have with Tolerance for an interview.

“What do you think the key is going to be for tonight’s fight?”

“(inaudible)”

“Did you say that you fish the vorld was at teace?” I can’t understand Tolerance with the hazmat suit on.

“(inaudible)”

“Nice talking with you, too, Tolerance.” Did anyone understand that?

Now back to Buffer. Trump’s people are already blowing up our Twitter account. “He’s over six feet!” Sorry, folks, we aren’t counting the hair.

“And now entering the ring, at five feet, six inches tall, two hundred and twenty pounds of pure fast food grease and white privilege, your reigning champion of America, Donaaaaald-DUUUUUCCCCKKKK!”

Damn it! I fucking told this idiot that joke wasn’t fucking funny! Somehow, while walking to the ring, Trump has just tweeted that I am an enemy to America. Now a bunch of QAnon followers are saying I’m part of Pizzagate. Here come the views!

Trump’s handpicked fan is a middle-aged white male who runs a gas station near Mobile, Alabama named Mike Smith. Mike wears a Keep America White hat and a Nick Saban jersey. Let’s jump over to him for an interview.

“What is Trump bringing to the fight that Biden won’t be able to stop?” I ask.

“Dey took our jobs!” Mike responds.

“Uh, okay, so you don’t have a job?”

“‘Course I got a job! I ain’t one of dem thugs looking for a handout! I ain’t one of dem illegals, neither!”

“I believe the currently accepted correct term is undocumented immigrant.”

“I don’t care what you libtards call them. I just know the second I see my first one, I’m shootin’ ’em dead on the spot! Dey ain’t comin’ and takin’ my job!”

“You’ve never seen a person of hispanic descent before?”

“Hell naw! Dey ain’t welcome ’round my parts, neither!”

Well, alright, then. This interview has succeeded in making me feel like my IQ has dropped a few points, but the ratings are soaring. I can see myself catapulting into fame even greater than the C.E.O. of ESPN 8: The Ocho.

Our referee for the evening is Bernie Sanders. In return for his participation, we’ve promised him a little financial support for his 2024 presidential bid. He’s promised that Wall Street will pay for whichever candidate is injured. It’s a green deal.

We’ve placed Nancy Pelosi live in one corner of the screen: she’s busy tearing up mail-in ballots one by one in dramatic fashion. In the other corner we have a live feed of Mitch McConnell sitting in front of all the awards he’s won from stopping the legalization of the Devil’s lettuce.

The bell rings. The fight is on.

It’s awkward, to say the least, having to stay six-feet apart to observe social distancing guidelines. Trump has no mask on, and Biden keeps calling for a foul every time Trump sticks his toe over the painted lines. Bernie, busy trying to explain how to fund college for all, doesn’t notice as Rudy Giuliani sneaks out from under the ring with a chair and hits Biden across the back with it. Trump goes in to drop the rich white man elbow on Biden’s dazed life form, but here’s Kamala Harris out of nowhere with a subpoena! Frantic, Trump orders one of his aids to take care of it, but he’s forgotten he’s fired them all. Pence coming to the rescue by kneeling in the middle of the ring and beginning to pray. Out of respect everyone bows their heads, but viewers at home can see them sneaking peeks at each other and snickering.

In a surprising turn, we’re watching a man in DNC Staff shirt clocking Bernie in the back of the head with a steel chair! Everyone in the country is watching now. I look over at Skylar who is fucking Leo-Capricorn on the futon. He misses everything.

Al Gore and George W. have just now come running into the ring. Gore, screaming that no one could be watching this match without his invention, has been actively trying to get a rematch in the ring with W. “Revenge of the Hanging Chad” is what he’s been trying to bill it as. Meanwhile, George has scurried under the ring looking for Sadam’s nuclear weapons. He swears they’re under there.

Chris Christie, Ocasio-Cortez, Cory Booker, Schumer, Lindsay Graham, and other mainstream politicians are now jumping into the ring. This has become a real political rumble. It looks like we’re the highest-rated broadcast in history.

Wait a second, folks. It looks like we’re witnessing a nuclear explosion! George must have found those bombs after all.

The dust is settling. No one is left.

I look over at Skylar, smoking a post-coitus cig through his Under Armour mask. Now he really is the president of the United States.

This PDSN broadcast has been brought to you by Corona: Not the virus, it wasn’t us, it was all Bud Light.