Juanita Jean introduces a guest writer.

by Primo Encarnación y Hachecristo

One of the great mysteries of the 2015 campaign season is how a pediatric neurosurgeon with hands as gifted as Dr. Ben Carson’s – so gifted, they made them into not one, but TWO movies, both creatively named “Gifted Hands” – could have turned into the dull-witted, hate-spewing moron near the top of the GOP polls, second only to the white, dull-witted, hate-spewing moron at the top of the GOP polls.

But now, exclusive to Juanita Jean’s WMDBS, we have the answer.

Carson has long been a leading advocate and practitioner of hemispherectomy. In order to control otherwise uncontrollable seizures, he literally cuts out, disconnects, disables or otherwise de-activates fully half of the brain. In past centuries, this was called “getting religion.” But here in the 21st Century, all that is passé, because we have frickin’ laser beams.

Carson – himself an angry, bitter, rage-filled young man – turned to religion in his teens as a way to shut off his darkness. But as he got older, and richer, but no more white, he found the rage returning. So he locked himself in his lab, way up in the tower of Castle d’ Oreo, atop Mt. Aphor, and studied, and thought, and prayed.

Carson had observed over and over in his career that the human brain had a remarkable capacity for regeneration, of sorts. Destroyed neural pathways are bypassed naturally, with new pathways growing to replace the old. This ability, called neuroplasticity, along with the ability of the remaining hemisphere to take over jobs that belonged to its counterpart, led Carson to believe that he could sublimate his rage, self-abnegation and general feelings of inadequacy through surgery, as well as more prayer.

So he set his neuro-phaser to “stunned,” handed it his humpbacked manservant, Jindal, and ordered him to aim carefully. After hitting several other things including the wall (scarred), a cage full of turtles (lobotomized), and himself (no effect), Jindal finally focused on his master and pushed “fricassee.”

It was a brilliant success, at first. Carson became calm to the point of catatonia, and his speech slowed down so much the lobotomized turtles got impatient, but otherwise, Carson felt emboldened, super-human, even, dare-he-say, Presidential. “Me too,” piped Jindal.

But Carson had not counted on the double effects of the left-brain-ectomy, decoupled from a right-brain riddled with seculaphobia. (The rats he’d experimented with were atheists.) Everything was fine until, invited to address a prayer breakfast, Carson suddenly found himself spewing the most ridiculous jabberwocky imaginable. Suddenly, instead of being the smartest guy in the room, he found that he’d lost all capacity for rational thought. But it felt GOOD. It felt EMPOWERING. It felt…BLANCHED.

Thus, the good man who was Dr. Carson, surgical superhero, was sublimated by a new super-villain identity, Reverend Hyde: racist, narcoleptic, sexist, neocon, uberChristian, homophobic Republican candidate for President and all-around evil former-genius, raging in slow-motion at all the liberal kids trampling the lawn of theocracy.