Man: Sorry, Mr. McConnell - the dog show is over. Punk: Best is Show, mutt category.
Mr. McConnell really should, at this point, be tethered to three or four mangy, pathetic little flea-bitten curs. More’s the pity, too.
They are getting ready for the poney show.
But can that dog hunt?
who’s he? i don’t get it.
The less politicians do the better for the rest of us. You must be a politician.
That’s what happens when you choose yer dog show entry by having a dog FIGHT!
The same way you, and I, and all of the other non-entrants finished: Not at all.
That’s him,. leaving with the winner’s trophy
He’s President of the United States.
What, did Senator Lemonface actually say he wanted to jump into the Primary pool? Is he oblivious? Well, yes, he’s shown that over and over again, but I mean is he oblivious to the fact that the race is already under way?
I don’t know Sen. McConnell personally so this is unfair, I know – but that constant little smirk of his infuriates me and I’ll tell you why.
In the neighborhood where I was a kid the old guy across our alley smirked just that way. Just for spite I’ll call him Mr. Stinkleman (rhymes with actual name). Our apple tree shed fruit into the alley, and he told my father I was always throwing rotten apples at his garage.
My father was the type to hit first and ask questions later. The other kids probably did it, but not me! Honest! Not yet realizing that adults could be mean stinkers I felt so helpless and confused. I nursed an irrationally intense resentment against Stinkleman for years. So I’m afraid any subjective impression of McConnell is tainted and therefore not possible.
One of these days I’ll find where “Stinkleman” is buried and throw rotten apples at his gravestone. Until then, I will throw dirty socks at O’Connell whenever he shows up on TV. Forgive me, Mitch!
For republicans it’s not size of the dog in the show but the size of the show in the dog. All show.
It must be hard to try to come up with interesting cartoons on the Republican dog and phony show.
Looks like he’s a bit too late.
SkepticCal: I had to Google Derek Jeter. What a long Wikipedia page!
In reading my previous post, it seems kind of sad. It was meant to be funny. My life is not a dark bouquet of thorny neuroses as a result of that childhood incident.
I think everybody probably is affected in early life by unfair, irritating people that, years later, seem reincarnated through media creatures. Somewhere inside of us secret resentments churn undigested and occasionally gurgle to the surface in response.
To me, they pop up unexpectedly like forgotten lemures. Whenever they appear, I just want to reach into the television screen and slap their silly faces: as with Newt Gingrich (our high school bully, Jimmy “Moron”), Sarah Palin (my brassy sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. “Bronchitis”), and with William Krystal (toothy college know-it-all, “Brian Luvshimself”).
They don’t scare me anymore, ha ha. Now I can swear at them, throw spitballs or whatever, and then – turn them off.
April 12, 2017