Tuesday, February 20, 2007

A Troop Support How-to

I saw John Murtha on the tele. He looked like he had gotten his hair wet and then forced his head up through a shirt sleeve. His melon really looks like it is under a tremendous amount of pressure. But I'm sure it's more than his Magnum P.I. good looks that keeps him in office. He probably has some really good ideas too. You know, a thinking man. A thinking man who's got that "everybody's grandpa" quality. You know, the grandpa who's always soaking the front of his pants. "Hey Gramps! How's it going? Can we get you to change those pants? You're sitting by the register and the whole room is starting to smell like the diaper bin at Once Upon a Child."

But let's not dwell on Big John's obvious malady. After all he's a Congressman, so he probably still gets called "Fuzznuts" by Robert Byrd at some point during the 23 minutes they are passing each other in the hall. But these guys all have one thing in common. From the wise and photogenic Charlie Rangle, to the bold and visionary Dennis Whateverthefuckhisnameisich: They all support the troops. So much so that they would take one of their resolutions, all of which are as binding and as powerful as a Patrick Kennedy loogie. As earth-shattering and history-making as a William Jefferson salsa-shit - they would take one of their babies, born when the daddy, Nancy Pelosi, looks at the mommy, Barney Frank and says "I'm gonna debate you like you've never been debated before. I'm gonna debate you so hard, your heterosexual brother's children will feel it. Now bend over." And 9 days later, (the gestation for a resolution being very short - look it up on Schoolhouse Rock, if you think I'm lying) a bouncing baby resolution is born. And these selfless, hardworking, never sleeping, always thinking of how to help America without even considering whether they'll be re-elected or not - these true heroes of the war on physical activity, they would put one of their shivering offspring on the alter of "WE LOVE THE TROOPS" and sacrifice it with the kitchen knife of non-bindingness.

Squeeze that tear out friends. Let it drop. Oh beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain......

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