A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Funeral
This past week was supposed to be a dirge for John McCain and the Republican Party.
The week began with the uncertainty they’d even be able to have a convention -- as The Prefect Storm seemed to be looming once again off the Gulf Coast -- as a reminder of a previous once in a century storm the government agencies had no precedent and experience handling. With that, McCain all but gave up on the convention, just as he had to give in one year ago, when it looked like his prospects for winning the presidential nomination was bleak at best.
This was not the first time John McCain faced a sure and certain death in his life -- and recovered and resurrected himself to an even greater force. Basically, that’s the story of his life; that’s what he knows -- that when things look darkest, there will be a way -- to overcome, and win.
At every turn, those who would like to see the last of him, think they have left him close enough to dead, that he will not possibly recover. So it is not surprising, that Boss Obama, is not the last wondering, how do I finish this guy off? How do I bury him once and for all?
So his confederates joked and laughed when McCain chose a woman as his vice-presidential partner, and it looked like the convention of his celebration, would turn into a monumental disaster, the opposing party and media enablers, were actually cheering and hoping for -- such as their resentment, bitterness and rancor had grown into an incurable disease. And the scribes (media) were all smug in their satisfaction that we had finally seen and heard the last from John McCain, and they could promote their own messiah as the true god they would enshrine in the pomp and circumstances that they alone recommended and dictated to the rest of society and the world.
But then the worst did not play out -- and the country was not devastated, and the Republicans had to go ahead, presenting their candidates, whom the media (scribes) were already confident, they had so intimidated and cowed that they (she) had disappeared down a rabbit hole maybe afraid to come out before their disapproving glares.
So they looked down the hole once more to make sure that she would still muster the courage and strength to prostrate herself before them -- the high priests of culture and opinion, with the proper deference they were accustomed to -- as being hopelessly out of her league, only to see the “Terminator” emerge, blasting their heads off to thy kingdom come.
“Welcome to my world.”
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