Sunday, October 5, 2008

Check out the dead cats

IF YOU have a few bucks left in your stock portfolio may I suggest a fertile investment scheme: Put the money into dead cats.   Fat ones.  Smelly ones.  The kind that give off foul odors when you splatter them against somebody.  There is nothing like a dead cat to soil and deface anybody you want to destroy.  Particularly if you think you ought to head to the vicinity of the White House, one way or another.  

On the basis of supply and demand, the market value on dead cats is rising these days as the maniacal mavericks sweep them up to hurl them forcefully at Barack Obama.  Like oil, when there are fewer dead cats for the rest of the world, the price will go up.  Bingo.  Good investment.

The thought arises not as an original idea from me.  The McCain-Palin campaign people are talking to anybody who will listen that they are planning a smelly attack-ad barrage against Barack Obama's character  to shift the voters' attention from the equally stinking economy and a lot of other things that have stalled McCain's bid for the Oval Office.  While McCain  is insisting that he is non-partisan (in Bush's favorite self-description,  a uniter, not a divider), Palin is doing her Project Runway schtick by questioning Obama's patriotism wherever she goes (but never on Sunday  to the networks), wondering without a blink whether he should even  be permitted to aspire to high office.  

The dead cats had been lying around in the dark streets and alleys of whisperers for several months before McCain & Co. whipped the reeking carcasses onto their tumbrels to dispose them widely in a more polite society.   To refer to Obama as a Muslim, for example, when it is verifiably clear that he is a Christian,   is a disgraceful lie for personal gain.   It also reaches  for the basest instincts of the voters.  If a candidate has nothing  less provable to lie about  in assailing an opponent, he or she should shut up and join the circus.   And for McCain to allow it to happen is a sign of his own abject desperation.

John, lay off the dead cats.  There can be more than one patriot in the crowd.   

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