Dear Greg:
Honestly, Old Pal, I could eat this stuff up with a spoon, then lick the bowl clean. I’m in hog heaven.
Your wild-eyed Democrat friends- who you seem to hold at arm’s length, even though I openly admit to aiding and abetting the Lying Republicans – could sell tickets to this epic primary battle, which may not be over yet, even though it’s over.
The fat lady sang Tuesday night, but Hillary Clinton apparently couldn’t hear her.
In what is being described as a "kabuki dance,”Barack Obama has wrapped up the nomination, but Clinton is preserving her options, maybe to elbow her way onto the ticket as vice president.
I guess we’ll just have to keep looking out the window to see if pigs are flying yet. If so,Hillary threw in the towel. But, I sure hope not. Peanuts and popcorn are the only things missing from this, the best show in town, and I say my prayers every night that these two won’t kiss andmake up until the convention in Denver.
Not long ago, I was darned near speechless when a Hillary supporter pointed out that if the Democrats had the same all-ornothing rule for awarding convention delegates, their gal would have had this thing wrapped up months ago. That’s because she’s been winning the big states.
Then recently, Hillary and Wild Bill have been arguing that if you just count those votes from Michigan and Florida, well, then she’s ahead in the popular vote, so she ought to be the winner – yeah, that’s the ticket – even if she’s got fewer delegates than Obama. After all, aren’t you for counting all the votes?
Well,maybe not, if you agreed to a deal, then shamelessly changed your mind once the deal turned out to favor your opponent.
Hillary’s whiney weaseling over Democrat rules and Republican rules, and what should be done in Florida andMichigan remindsme of an old saying that you hear out here in the Red States.
When she says she’d be the winner if things were just different, the logical response is this:
"Yes, Sen. Clinton, and if a pig had wings, he’d be an eagle!”
All this reminds me of something I saw on "60 Minutes” the other night. It seems the Army has come up with a truckmounted piece of equipment that can microwave unpleasant people from about 1,000 yards away. It makes their skin get really hot, like a weenie in a Radar Range.
They zapped the "60 Minutes” reporter who did the story, and he could only stand it for three seconds.
Now, as I said above, I hope this Democratic primary fight continues clear through their convention. But, in the spirit of being helpful, I’ll make this one suggestion: Maybe if your wild-eyed Democrat friends borrowed that truck fromtheArmy and aimed it at Hillary and Bill, they’d finally go away.
Honestly, Greg, I think that’s what it’s going to take.
Your old pal,
Red State Dave
[email protected]
Dear Dave:
I watched all the speeches the other night, after the last primaries out there in the Great Beyond were called, and all I could think was this: If Barack Obama picks Hillary Clinton as his vice presidential candidate after she’s been so ungracious and nasty to him, he is too crazy to serve as our nation’s commander in chief.
Just think of that scenario for aminute. You’re Barack Obama (a stretch of the imagination for you, I realize) and the day you take over the Oval Office, you look out the window to see the woman who’s been stalking and bad mouthing everything about you for months moving in next door. And who’s helping her? Well, the out-oftouch guy who’s married to her, who just happens to be one of your predecessors, and who’s also been trash-talking and trying to gut shoot you for over a year. The guy with a wild look in his eye and Polaroids of bikini babes fromHuntington Beach hidden in his wallet. The guy who’d like another shot at power, even if he has to get it by proxy through the missus.
Yipes! That would be enough to sendme scurrying back to Illinois, where all I had to worry about is staying on my wife’s good side. At the very least, I’d appoint a food taster tout de suite because – sure as shootin’- that pair of cockle burrs is just stickin’ around because they figure they’re only a heartbeat away fromthe presidency.
If you’re Barack Obama with that awful choice to make, do you pick Hillary and commit yourself to a term of back-biting, finger-pointing, dry-gulching, secondguessing, whining, undermining and plotting? Do you opt for at least four years of watching for bushwhackers on the horizon or sneaking up on your back trail?
Or do you give old Bob the Plumber – the guy who charged too much to fix your toilet back home, but at least never tried to sabotage your whole drainage system – a call and ask him to be your running mate, even though nobody has ever heard of him?
Me, I’mgonna go with Bob the Plumber every time. Tome, that’s a far better choice than picking the political equivalent of the wacky Glenn Close character in "Fatal Attraction" as my running mate.
Unless, of course, the Army could outfit the Oval Office with one of those ray guns we saw on "60 Minutes." Just the thought of Barack Obama wearing a helmet like Mike Dukakis and peering out the window of the Oval Office as he sights his zapper on Bill and Hillary coming up the drive is enough to put a smile on my face and a song in my heart.
"Care to dance, pilgrims?" he’d shout at the pair, and then he’d make ’em do it. Hillary would do a calypso. Bill would probably go for the fox trot. Neither one of them would dance particularly well, nor with any rhythm, but it would be darned amusing to watch them try.
It’s not right for you to have all the fun, partner. Seeing the video of that happening on the evening news would be something we could both eat up with a spoon.We’d be in hog heaven, rolling in the celestial slop, watching our own twisted version of "Dancing With the Stars."
Your zapperless friend,
Blue State Greg
[email protected]