well, it's certainly been a tough week for gop-veepee-lottery-winner sarah palin. it's also been a tough week for her soul mate, former-pow-did-you-know-turned-maverick-presidential-also-ran john mcsame. (but we should all be happy that a guy his age can still find happiness so soon after the loss of another wife. what? you hadn't heard about cindy? tragedy. must've gotten buried in all the chatter about bristol, her baby and its father, all of whom i hear, are also having a tough week.)
it's also been tough on the republicans, what with their convention having not only a genuinely tough act to follow from across the aisle, but also with having to contend with the misdirected anger of the weather gods (thanks for nothing, stu!) and the restless ghosts of new orleans, who are surely making things tough for just about everybody on the gulf coast.
but just as surely as no one, absolutely no one, wants to end the war in iraq more than our erstwhile democrat joe lieberman (he just wants it to end in 2108, apparently), no one, absolutely no one, can be having a tougher week than the last honest man.
painfully, no doubt, after months of doing all the heavy lifting personally holding up mcsame's bearings in one hand, and with the other tirelessly slipping the knife, again and again, into his soon-to-be-former-caucus-mates, poor joe-just-can't-get-a-break-lieberman had to watch all his careful machinations upended and all his aspirations unceremoniously dumped into the comely lap of a bubble-headed upstart from that god-forsaken-frozen-backwater-three-electoral-votes-are-you-effin-kidding-me i-don't-wanna-be-a-state-of-alaska, of all places. and then, to top it all, having to dutifully take the stage in minnesota, not as a proud running mate on a winning ticket, but as an unappreciated z-list shill at the coming-out party for a modern-day
wolfmoose gal, in front of a scattershot crowd of dullards and ingrates. how truly bitter his words must have tasted.
but november is still a whole two months away, so joe will probably look forward to a little time away from the klieg lights. time enough for this sad little creature to crawl back to his den, lick his (self-inflicted) wounds (again!) and get back to work on that shrinking list of imaginary friends while thoughtfully fingering the well-worn blade on the only thing he can trust:
gollieberman: master has betwayed us! he wants the pweshuss all for himself!
smeajoe: no, no, no! master likes us! master said so himself!
gollieberman: master wants the palin! he wants to give it the pweshuss! our pweshuss! the palin must die!
smeajoe: no, no! if we kill the palin, the master will hate us! the palin is pwetty — and we are not! and he won't give us the pweshuss!
gollieberman: no ... we shan't kill the palin, but the palin is stupid! we are smart! we can twick it, make it twip and fall! make master look foolish!
smeajoe: yesss ... yes! then master will hate the palin, and send it away!
gollieberman: yesss ... then master will pay! like the democwatsss will pay! we will kill the master and take the pweshuss for us! then smeajoe will be the master!!
moose gal may have to watch her back ...