Actor Tina Fey, whose dead-on impersonation of U.S. vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin has made headlines. (Lucas Jackson/Reuters)

Over the next month, both Canadians and Americans will be casting ballots in their respective federal elections, making decisions based not only on policy statements but on the personalities of the candidates — their honesty, their leadership abilities, their character. In my opinion, the best way to get to know the politicians beyond their carefully staged photo opportunities is through satire.

All high-profile political candidates get a ribbing; for them, it's not a matter of if, but how they're lampooned. Bill Clinton's various appetites, Jean Chrétien's imperfect English and George W. Bush's buffoonish manner (and imperfect English) offered a bottomless well of yuks, yet did not impede each man's ascent to power. In fact, the jokes only reinforced the menschiness these politicians had been cultivating. If we've learned anything on either side of the border, it's better for politicians to be mocked for stupidity or clumsiness (see Chevy Chase's impression of Gerald Ford) than for smugness (Al Gore), priggishness (Reform Party founder Preston Manning) or elitism (presidential also-ran John Kerry).

If he achieved nothing else positive, George W. Bush vaulted political humour to new heights — beyond gentle spoofing to more substantive attacks on government policies. On The Daily Show, ruthlessly lampooned Bush’s messianic arrogance, the incompetence of his minions, and their lack of accountability in Iraq and New Orleans; on The Colbert Report, Stephen Colbert did the same thing by pretending to be Dubya’s number-one fan. Earlier characterizations of Bush as an inarticulate but harmless frat boy seemed flattering in comparison.

David Rees' comic strip Get Your War On, another by-product of the Bush era, consists of a series of angry conversations between anonymous office workers. The strip's humour comes less from witty zingers than from profane incredulity. "OK, I hate to act like a f---king dumbass, but are we at war? I mean, did we ever officially declare war?" says one character around the time of the invasion of Afghanistan. "Declare war?" says the man at the other end of the phone line. "Who's got time to declare war when there's so many bombs to drop?"

TV comedian Jon Stewart. (Evan Agostini/Associated Press)

With Bush set to leave the Oval Office and both Democrat nominee Barack Obama and Republican John McCain hoping to replace him, American political satire has shown a steep decline. Most of the jokes surrounding Senator McCain – who once hosted Saturday Night Live – have centred on his age. "CNN reports that John McCain is aggressively trying to win over the independent vote," Conan O'Brien quipped. "Yeah, of course, to John McCain, independent means anyone who can make it to the toilet without help." That type of humour can be funny, but in the same predictable way as "Yo’ Mama" jokes. Moreover, cracks about McCain’s age don’t really strike at the Arizona senator’s essence, or address his reputation as a maverick and a hothead.

Barack Obama has thus far defied effective ridicule. The Illinois senator's professorial manner is offset by his youth, his impeccably written life story and his charisma. Some comedians have suggested they're wary about going after a black candidate lest they appear racist. The best that comedians have been able to do is attack Obama by association, ridiculing the news reporters "in the tank" for him in an SNL skit and making fun of young supporters in a viral video entitled "Obsessed with Obama."

The women of U.S. politics have helped to fill some of the laughter deficit. Amy Poehler's version of Hillary Clinton, more a send-up of the former First Lady than an impersonation, has been one of SNL's consistently funny characters in the last couple of years. But it has been Tina Fey's dead-on impression of vice-presidential candidate Sarah Palin that has made headlines, showing how political humour can crystallize public sentiment.

The moose-hunting Alaskan governor has inspired some of the anger satirists previously reserved for Bush. Palin became notorious for her self-referencing quote, "What is the difference between a pitbull and a hockey mom? Lipstick." In a humour piece in the New Yorker, author George Saunders offered his own ironic defence of the lipstick-wearing hockey mom: "So, when Barack Obama says he will put some lipstick on my pig, I am, like, Are you calling me a pig? If so, thanks! Pigs are the most non-Élite of all barnyard animals."

Rick Mercer of The Mercer Report has kept comedic tabs on the Canadian election. (CBC)

While Canadian political satirists couldn't match their U.S. counterparts during the second Bush presidency, I would argue that our comedy writers have done more with less this year. The Rick Mercer Report recently aired an excellent bit portraying the candidates of the major parties as children. Even Liberal Stéphane Dion, the human equivalent of beige wallpaper, is sent up to great effect. Wearing rimless glasses and a suit without a tie, Stéphane the child says, "I have finished my math homework. Now I will do extra." This Hour Has 22 Minutes had a cute gag in which Stephen Harper confused a baby for an ATM — playing off the idea of our prime minister as an unfeeling automaton.

Maclean's columnist Scott Feschuk, a former speechwriter for Paul Martin and one of Canada's most reliably funny writers, favours a similar characterization of Harper — or, as he calls him, Cyborg CDF-34298 ("Stephen Harper"). In his Maclean's blog, Feschuk composed a fictional memo from the Tory campaign headquarters to the "Conservative Labs." "You assured us you'd successfully installed in 'Stephen Harper' the new Huggability 3.0 protocols and the full suite of Tenderness facsimiles," writes Feschuk. "And then it walks 'its' daughter to school today in front of all those cameras ... and — pats her on the shoulder? On the shoulder! Sweet bearded Jesus."

While Canadian satirists have hit their targets a little more effectively than their U.S. equivalents of late, they could still benefit from having their own Bush — someone who elicits so much active, chest-beating hatred that comedy must rise to new peaks in order to provide a satisfying release. Some left-wing commentators — and supporters of arts funding — suggest that we already have someone like that in our current prime minister. But until the quality of the jokes rises, I'd say they're just putting lipstick on a robot.

Kevin Chong is a writer based in Vancouver.