Whatever. Like always, I will doggedly chase down the story.
Here’s what we know so far:
Two gentlemen woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and said, “I like the cut of that man’s gib. I think, in all decent modesty, that fellow would make a fine President of the United States.” So right off the bat it was painfully obvious the two men were chock full of their own egos and a skosh delusional.
The two gentlemen then decided to settle the matter in a very mature way. They met in Pokémon Stadium.
“Only I can be president!” said one.
“You are wrong,” said the other. “I will be president way more times than you.”
Then both yelled, together, “Battle!” and took out their balls.
“I choose you!” said one man.
The other man looked surprised but recovered quickly. “You are wise to admit defeat before facing me in the arena! I accept your resignation.”
“I was talking to my ball, you ass!” retorted the man.
Out of one ball leaped a little banana-colored cuddle toy which chirped, “Pika pika!” Out of the other emerged a lizardon with great azure wings and a campfire on the end of his tail. Oh yeah, he also had a tail. The creature stood tall proudly and croaked, “Lizardon lizardon!”
Yes, in the grandest of all traditions, the mighty and proud warriors were going to let innocent creatures they had ruthlessly captured in the wild and force them to fight on their behalf while they waited in the safety zone beyond the baseline. The battle would be a close one since neither of the elemental powers involved, fire and electricity, enjoyed an advantage over the other.
But before a champion emerged from that battle, some very clever politicos noticed that one of the candidates had, at some time in the distant past, traveled with a dog named Seamus strapped to the roof of his car. In a bizarre twist, the dog only had this to say: “Seamus Seamus!”
The battle was interrupted before it was finished, bringing great shame to Pokémon Stadium, so that the candidate could be hounded incessantly about his past.
Seamus. Remember him? The Irish setter Mitt Romney crated on the roof of the family station wagon before driving from Boston to Ontario for a family vacation? The dog who, hours into the trip, released a stream of diarrhea that trickled down the windows of the station wagon, forcing Romney to make, reluctantly, an unscheduled pit stop?
Yes, it’s not political coverage on the Abyss until we’ve introduced sophisticated concepts like, as Ann Romney herself puts it, “The runs.”
As logic dictates, and exactly what you’d expect, this sent the other side into a frenzy. It’s amazing how the universe can align in exactly the right way when one is your mortal enemy. “Look at that!” they exclaimed. “Did you hear what he did? That’s the worst thing ever. That’s the one thing I hate the most!” What a coincidence. Isn’t it funny how whatever the other person does is always that one special thing that rubs you the wrong way?
This, of course, prompted the other other side to go into a frenzy of their own. They had do something. Dig, people, dig! There has got to be something we can use. Leave no stone unturned. We’ve got to fight fire with fire! (Which, strangely enough, is way more effective than fire against electricity. Pika pika! Lizardon!)
The researchers were rewarded with more than they ever dreamed possible. They hit paydirt and found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. They found the smoking gun (fork?) and it was even written in their opponent’s very own words! Score!
The media had a field day. It was immediately dubbed The Dog War. (Sometimes they are just too clever for their own good.) Remember: These are the same people who worked overtime all year long to convince us that the race for the Republican nomination was oh-so tight. Of course they had no stake in manufacturing a drama. I’m sure if the race was a boring blowout they would have unbiasedly reported that, too. It’s just that people like Rick Santorum and Newt Gingrich really were viable candidates and the race was simply too close to call until things finally got decided at the last possible minute. What were the odds of that?
Romney aides point out Obama ate dog meat as a child
April 18, 2012
WASHINGTON — In the latest tit-for-tat in Mitt Romney’s lingering dog problem, aides to the Republican candidate are gleefully pointing out that President Barack Obama ate dog meat as a child.
The tale of Romney’s Irish setter Seamus — who traveled in a crate atop the family’s station wagon on a 1983 trip from Boston to Canada — has dogged the former Massachusetts governor for years.
Romney and his wife were most recently asked about the incident during an interview Monday with ABC’s Diane Sawyer and Ann Romney’s defense that Seamus “loved” traveling on top of the family car drew snickers from some Democrats and dog lovers.
Biting back Tuesday, conservative news site The Daily Caller made note of a passage in Obama’s book “Dreams from My Father,” in which the president recounted some of his adventurous eats while living in Indonesia with his stepfather Lolo Soetoro from age six to 10.
“With Lolo, I learned how to eat small green chili peppers raw with dinner (plenty of rice), and, away from the dinner table, I was introduced to dog meat (tough), snake meat (tougher), and roasted grasshopper (crunchy),” part of the passage reads.
Daily Caller blogger Jim Treacher commented, “Say what you want about Romney, but at least he only put a dog on the roof of his car, not the roof of his mouth.”
Source: New York Post
I just want to know why no one gives a flying damn about the feelings of that grasshopper!!! Bunch of heartless bastards!
Thanks to the efforts of the dedicated Romney campaign team, we now have that excerpt of Obama’s book to savor. And to think: It was just sitting there waiting to be discovered this whole time!
It raises many questions: If that little paragraph of text was so damning to Obama, why didn’t they find it earlier? Why did they rest on their haunches for so long? To me, that smacks of incompetence. If one isn’t careful, one might draw the conclusion that the only reason they did it was for revenge. Or, like the writer above said, it was a clear case of “tit for tat.”
Whatever. Either way, it’s out now. The least we can do is chew on it a bit. I could probably speak volumes about the difference in values between cultures, like those other than our own. (You know, they do exist.) It’s a fact that some cultures eat dogs and others call them man’s best friend. But I think there is a bigger point here. I like cats.
Look at that book excerpt. Really look at it. The only thought that crosses my brain is: Really? Who the fuck would buy a book with stuff like that in it? To prove this point I now quote from my own auto-biography:
Life in the suburbs after dad left weren’t easy. Mom would make this dish she called “strogee.” It was 240 servings of ground beef mixed in with noodles and, I found out later, her secret sauce ingredient that was nothing more than sour cream. This was stored in the largest green Tupperware bowl you had ever seen. The Exxon Valdez could easily fit inside of it. We often lived on that dish six meals a week. At other times, when we were left alone as latchkey kids, we were forced to subsist on little plastic-sealed packets of sauced chicken that we boiled in water then poured over toast. We called this dish Chicken ala King.
Source: Twitter: shoutabyss
And this is the state of presidential elections in the year 2012 in the greatest first world nation the world has ever seen. And we were supposed to have flying cars by now. Instead we have this. The Dog War.
Like I often say of late, “Don’t look directly at the democracy. It might blind you.”
I promised someone special that I would approach this sensitive issue with my usual grace, style and aplomb. I hope you’ll agree I have successfully completed that mission. This is Major Tom Taker to ground control. Requesting permission to land in Kazakhstan.