We need better ways to define the candidates, so that either Bush or Kerry can start the critical next term with a popular mandate. Clearly, it's time for something different. Something new. I believe that the following schedule of campaign events and competitions is, if not the single most important document in the history of representative democracy with the possible exception of the Constitution, a darn close second. Here's how it works:

Over the course of a week, Bush and Kerry will appear on a series of Reality TV programs and work through a variety of familiar scenarios. Shows include Fear Factor, on which Bush must pronounce "nuclear" correctly on live television, and a version of The Bachelor where Kerry learns at the end that the woman he has chosen is not really rich. Then, Survivor's Jeff Probst hits both men with hard questions at Tribal Council, forcing them to reveal their true feelings about both the outsourcing of American jobs and that hottie with the fake rack who cost their tribe a reward challenge. On election night, Donald Trump tells the loser, "You're fired."

If ESPN can make poker fun to watch, imagine what it could do with a high-stakes round of Iraq Scrabble. Bush wins the game if he can show us the letters "WMD," but in a shocking twist known only to everyone else in the world, those letters are nowhere to be found. Kerry meanwhile believes that he can change his words about Iraq after laying them out for everyone to see, but doing so actually results in a penalty. Either player wins if they can form the words "exit strategy."

The free-style rap competition will allow the candidates to represent, just like Eminem in 8 Mile, unless they are fronting, in which case they will get served. Moderator Chuck D, taking a break from his Air America radio gig, assigns each man a topic and a style in which he must then bust a rhyme, e.g., Bush performs a Crunk version of Medicare reform, or Kerry goes all gangsta on the budget deficit. Winner gets to show off the White House on MTV Cribs. Loser has to spend a week on VH1 with Flava Flav and Brigitte Nielsen.

A test of physical strength and skills, the Political Pentathlon involves such events as lifting large bales of campaign cash, swimming through allegations of Vietnam-era misconduct, spinning, ducking unpleasant issues, and target shooting with either a banned but highly-efficient automatic weapon or (if deemed politically expedient) a less powerful legal firearm. On the undercard, Dick Cheney and John Edwards play Halo against each other on Xbox as Stuart Scott calls the action. Booyah!

Then back to debating, but with some new rules. The formats we've seen so far (the podium-gripper and the fake town-hall) are fine after a fashion, but many Americans are more comfortable with the barroom argument method of discourse. Under these guidelines, it is perfectly acceptable for Bush to call Kerry "Frenchy" and respond to his remarks in a Pepe le Pew accent. Kerry may use the word "duh" as often as he likes in his own retorts.  Profanity is allowed, interruptions are expected, heckling from the crowd is encouraged, and you can just make stuff up if you think you can get away with it. Order will be maintained by an innkeeper who keeps a dictionary and a baseball bat under the bar and a large assistant named Tiny by the door.

If after all these grueling competitions we still end up with another close election and a contested result, forget about sending it to the Supreme Court. This time, the winner will be chosen on the basis of entertainment value, originality, and vocal quality, as judged by Simon Cowell and Paula Abdul.

Sound crazy? Go back and read that first paragraph about the electronic voting machines and the Electoral College. Now let the games begin.