McCain's Houses
I pay a lot more attention to J. McCain than I do to B. Obama. This isn't merely because J. McCain's mission is a thousand-fold more pernicious.
Though I had no idea that he even existed until a couple of years ago, I already know all about B. Obama. This is because, among other things, we both had dark-skinned fathers who unfortunately had to leave here early, and we both also had strong, loving mothers who were much more lacking than their mates in melanin and who are now also resting in peace somewhere.
Actually B. Obama is running as my surrogate. I would be doing it, to put into effect the actions in office that I've been working out in my mind since Roosevelt's time, but B. Obama is younger and has much more stomach for the huge amount of garbage that would inevitably accompany such an effort, especially because of our matching melanin counts. Or maybe he's just more foolhardy than Colin Powell, who, however, is now thoroughly disgraced anyway, because of the phial of powder that he brandished at the U.N. in 2003. In B. Obama's place, at some point I know I would have thrown up my hands in disgust at all the offal thrown at me and would've wished away everything, and that wish would've been granted, and so would have ended that particular prospect of good times for America.
I already know about J. McCain, too. I have seen him many times, in many places, and in many guises. ever since my mother remarried in 1939 and took me and my sister out into the Maryland countryside, where instead of everybody being of a wide range of tints in D.C. everybody instead had restricted themselves to that one particular hue, the one of her father. But, with all his bumptiousness and becaise he is running on an unspoken but obvious platform of keeping the bad times crawling, J. McCain makes such a tempting, easy, and well-deserving target, as the North Vietnamese discovered to their great glee and satisfaction, and it may have been just his attitude while in their hands that helped increase their resolve in their eventually winning effort.
For example, a day or two ago McCain was asked how many houses he owns.
For a media that is in general so much on his side, to ask him this question wasn't the most considerate thing to do.. He only had four seconds at most to answer without looking like a fool, and in the meantime he had to do so many calculations that it would been an ordeal for any 72-year-older but especially for him, because he is an especially old 72, a point that his boosters, rabid about age being any sort of an issue, are careful not to notice.
But feeling that I know by now just where he's coming from, I think I can supply exactly what had just enough time to run through even his cholesteroled mind in that brief moment before he had to come up with an answer.
How many houses do I own? Oh, crap! Why now? ...The way the housing mess is going, any answer above one is going to go over like a lead balloon with all those bozos called the American voters. --Two at the most. No, not when until a little while ago that spearchucker that is having the gall to run against me didn't have a pot to piss in, and even if a gangster did happen to get him a place, a million dollar pad my people are making it out to be, that's still just a measly-ass one. --One, goddammit! And how many do I have, what with that broad that I've been attached to in matrimony for lo, these many years, and she's rich, and once in a while she buys stuff, and God knows what she's been up to while I've been out here trying to save the Republicans' asses, which are never lacking in size. So is that number four? Five? Six? All those damn condos! Condos and Condi. What I need is another Condi here beside me to get down on her knees and sop up the never-ending s--t like this. --And didn't I hear something about another place that woman bought, for the kids? --Hell's bells, I don't know how many houses I own, and I'm going to have to fall back on that old, tired, s--t answer of telling them my people will get back to them. Maybe those dummies will find the answer, after a day at the Library of Congress. If running for President wasn't so much crap, I'd live up to the old "straight-talking" horses--t and answer, "Dammit, I don't myself own any houses at all, at least none that I live in. How could I, when actually I spend all my days in damn airplanes and limos and s--t, dashing here and there all over the damn place answering fool questions like that and being expected to know all about things that are so much horsepiss." -- What am I doing here anyway, when I could be sitting out at my ranch in Arizona, sunning myself and doing nothing but thinking about all the good times in prison camp.. ...I do have a ranch in Arizona, don't I?.
Though I had no idea that he even existed until a couple of years ago, I already know all about B. Obama. This is because, among other things, we both had dark-skinned fathers who unfortunately had to leave here early, and we both also had strong, loving mothers who were much more lacking than their mates in melanin and who are now also resting in peace somewhere.
Actually B. Obama is running as my surrogate. I would be doing it, to put into effect the actions in office that I've been working out in my mind since Roosevelt's time, but B. Obama is younger and has much more stomach for the huge amount of garbage that would inevitably accompany such an effort, especially because of our matching melanin counts. Or maybe he's just more foolhardy than Colin Powell, who, however, is now thoroughly disgraced anyway, because of the phial of powder that he brandished at the U.N. in 2003. In B. Obama's place, at some point I know I would have thrown up my hands in disgust at all the offal thrown at me and would've wished away everything, and that wish would've been granted, and so would have ended that particular prospect of good times for America.
I already know about J. McCain, too. I have seen him many times, in many places, and in many guises. ever since my mother remarried in 1939 and took me and my sister out into the Maryland countryside, where instead of everybody being of a wide range of tints in D.C. everybody instead had restricted themselves to that one particular hue, the one of her father. But, with all his bumptiousness and becaise he is running on an unspoken but obvious platform of keeping the bad times crawling, J. McCain makes such a tempting, easy, and well-deserving target, as the North Vietnamese discovered to their great glee and satisfaction, and it may have been just his attitude while in their hands that helped increase their resolve in their eventually winning effort.
For example, a day or two ago McCain was asked how many houses he owns.
For a media that is in general so much on his side, to ask him this question wasn't the most considerate thing to do.. He only had four seconds at most to answer without looking like a fool, and in the meantime he had to do so many calculations that it would been an ordeal for any 72-year-older but especially for him, because he is an especially old 72, a point that his boosters, rabid about age being any sort of an issue, are careful not to notice.
But feeling that I know by now just where he's coming from, I think I can supply exactly what had just enough time to run through even his cholesteroled mind in that brief moment before he had to come up with an answer.
How many houses do I own? Oh, crap! Why now? ...The way the housing mess is going, any answer above one is going to go over like a lead balloon with all those bozos called the American voters. --Two at the most. No, not when until a little while ago that spearchucker that is having the gall to run against me didn't have a pot to piss in, and even if a gangster did happen to get him a place, a million dollar pad my people are making it out to be, that's still just a measly-ass one. --One, goddammit! And how many do I have, what with that broad that I've been attached to in matrimony for lo, these many years, and she's rich, and once in a while she buys stuff, and God knows what she's been up to while I've been out here trying to save the Republicans' asses, which are never lacking in size. So is that number four? Five? Six? All those damn condos! Condos and Condi. What I need is another Condi here beside me to get down on her knees and sop up the never-ending s--t like this. --And didn't I hear something about another place that woman bought, for the kids? --Hell's bells, I don't know how many houses I own, and I'm going to have to fall back on that old, tired, s--t answer of telling them my people will get back to them. Maybe those dummies will find the answer, after a day at the Library of Congress. If running for President wasn't so much crap, I'd live up to the old "straight-talking" horses--t and answer, "Dammit, I don't myself own any houses at all, at least none that I live in. How could I, when actually I spend all my days in damn airplanes and limos and s--t, dashing here and there all over the damn place answering fool questions like that and being expected to know all about things that are so much horsepiss." -- What am I doing here anyway, when I could be sitting out at my ranch in Arizona, sunning myself and doing nothing but thinking about all the good times in prison camp.. ...I do have a ranch in Arizona, don't I?.
posted by Carl (aka Sofarsogoo) | 12:22 PM
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