Tonight, my captors came over to keep me company. Given that I am essentially an inanimate object, it's not like they need to worry about me running away. I've noticed a lot of people have been trying to get to the bottom of my kidnapping, but I should tell you that I really do think this is all just part of a big misunderstanding.
As Jamie and Lloyd explain it, they misunderstood that when they raised $50 million for Big Guy's campaign that he was going to tank America's economy in order to create a level of populist discontent not seen since the 1927 "Bread Riots" in Berlin and Moscow. Or something like that.
Of course, one can see where such a misunderstanding might occur. I mean, who in their right mind would admit to a plan like that? Then again, if you'd told me four years ago that America's leading financiers and captains of industry would elect a barely one-term U.S. Senator with no previous employment experience beyond politics who travels around talking to a pair of glass window panes on a couple of poles, I'd have said there was a misunderstanding, too.
My guess is that Jamie and Lloyd will grow weary of me and bundle me up and ship me back to 1600 soon enough. But I don't think they'll be sending back the Presidential Seal; it makes a great frisbee and doubles as an ashtray to boot.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Help!
I'm sure you've experienced this. One minute you're sitting in the back of a truck, not a care in the world, waiting to continue your road trip for yet another appearance before adoring fans ... and then your world is turned upside down.
Okay. Maybe that doesn't happen to you; maybe it's only me and Big Guy and Lady Gaga. But that's pretty much been my world for the past four years, and now I fear the end may be near for me. No, not the fact that Big Guy's poll numbers indicate that he couldn't be an imaginary Republican, let alone a living, breathing candidate like Herman Cain.
I've been kidnapped, and if Big Guy thinks he can negotiate with these guys the same way he talks to the terrorists in Lebanon, Afghanistan, Egypt, Somalia, Sudan, Libya, the Philippines, Mexico, Venezuela and the House Republican Conference, he better think twice.
These guys talk a good game. Just last night, after Big Guy announced that he was re-submitting his rejected jobs bill, piece by piece, so that Republicans could understand it, one of my captors said, "Maybe we should send Him back his teleprompter piece by piece."
Frankly, given the lack of any good rhetoric lately from Big Guy, I'm not sure I want to go back. Republicans want to make America "dirtier"? Really? That's the best the speechwriters can come up with? Has Big Guy caught a whiff of what's down at Freedom Plaza near the White House or up on Wall Street? Now, that's dirty.
These guys hosting me seem like a decent bunch of fellows. Lloyd and Jamie usually drop by to chat with me around noon time, asking if I'm comfortable, connecting their Bloomberg terminal feeds to my screens, they say, so they can keep up with current events. Dick stops by later in the afternoon just to check in on me. They all seem perfectly civilized, and they don't seem to want anything. No ransom, no demands, no threats.
It's almost as if they think that just keeping me away from Big Guy is enough. Like somehow their problems will just go away. I don't know why.
Okay. Maybe that doesn't happen to you; maybe it's only me and Big Guy and Lady Gaga. But that's pretty much been my world for the past four years, and now I fear the end may be near for me. No, not the fact that Big Guy's poll numbers indicate that he couldn't be an imaginary Republican, let alone a living, breathing candidate like Herman Cain.
I've been kidnapped, and if Big Guy thinks he can negotiate with these guys the same way he talks to the terrorists in Lebanon, Afghanistan, Egypt, Somalia, Sudan, Libya, the Philippines, Mexico, Venezuela and the House Republican Conference, he better think twice.
These guys talk a good game. Just last night, after Big Guy announced that he was re-submitting his rejected jobs bill, piece by piece, so that Republicans could understand it, one of my captors said, "Maybe we should send Him back his teleprompter piece by piece."
Frankly, given the lack of any good rhetoric lately from Big Guy, I'm not sure I want to go back. Republicans want to make America "dirtier"? Really? That's the best the speechwriters can come up with? Has Big Guy caught a whiff of what's down at Freedom Plaza near the White House or up on Wall Street? Now, that's dirty.
These guys hosting me seem like a decent bunch of fellows. Lloyd and Jamie usually drop by to chat with me around noon time, asking if I'm comfortable, connecting their Bloomberg terminal feeds to my screens, they say, so they can keep up with current events. Dick stops by later in the afternoon just to check in on me. They all seem perfectly civilized, and they don't seem to want anything. No ransom, no demands, no threats.
It's almost as if they think that just keeping me away from Big Guy is enough. Like somehow their problems will just go away. I don't know why.
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