Saturday, August 30, 2008

It's a joke, right?

I must have misplaced my calendar. I could have sworn yesterday was August 29th, not April first.

I have to admit the word palin' has come to mind many times when looking at John McCain, but it has always been in reference to his skin tone. Who would have guessed he could actually find someone with that adjective for a name? Palin isn't so much a running mate as it is a dermatological condition.

But the joke gets better. Remember when the Pugs were asleep at the wheel and Dubya nominated his personal attorney, Harriet Meyers, to the Supreme Court? That took days (or maybe it was weeks - I don't remember any more) to settle. Bush got his dick slapped (although it was Dick who did the slapping), and Harriet managed to crawl away with a modicum of her dignity in tact.

Do you think that might just possibly be happening again? McCain was at the Miss Buffalo Chip competition a couple of weeks back. With adolescent excitement making his voice quiver, he offered up Cindy (not in a million years can I imagine somebody named Cindy as First Lady) for contention in the topless bikers' pageant. The man clearly likes a pretty face (even it you need to remove an inch of spackle just to find it).

So in sharper definition of his sallow character, McCain, in a effort to avoid Mittens as his in-house handler, finds an ex- beauty queen cum podunksville governor for a running, er, um, mate. Well at least we already know she's for world peace. I bet McCain is giddy imagining Cindy and Sarah in high heels and bathing suits on either side of him at his inauguration. Sarah could wax philosophical about how Americans don't have maps and such as.

So did Rove blink? Is Neocon Death Star Control in panic mode, with all those mindless minions scurrying about, hair on fire as their wiring short-circuits? I can see it now. Mittens actually has several hairs out of place and his mask is half torn off, revealing Cheney's sneer beneath. Shouts of "damage control" echoing about the underground chambers; the wails of torture victims in the dungeons below drowned out by the louder wails of a machine for which the wheels have just fallen off.

We back off from this picture to a distance several miles above, and watch and listen as a loud whump is followed by the colossal collapse of megatons of earth. Clouds of dust rise into the atmosphere. And slowly settle. Into silence.

Sarah and Cindy. It just doesn't get any better than this.

1 comment:

Mindy said...

Actually, it just got ALOT better :)