I will congratulate President-elect Donaldus Minimus on his victory, with the understanding that such
congratulation constitutes neither an endorsement of Agent Orange nor a rejection of any Republican
stand on Capitol Hill against his actual or alleged coming mischief. (This assumes the Republicans on
Crapola Hill will finally grow spines with iron in them, but one dares to dream.) Forget holding feet
to fire; it's time to hold asses to it.
I will shed no tears over the departure of Hilarious Rodent Clinton from political life, with the advisory
that Clintons seem to have lives enough to make cats prematurely mortal, and there are few if any
reasons to believe they will go gently into that good gray night. (Not without generous contributions
to the Clinton Foundation, anyway.)
And I will apologise not one whit for casting my "None of These Candidates" vote on Tuesday, though
I reserve the right to gape in amazement that a country whose first presidential contest was between
George Washington and John Adams "progressed" to a mob rule contest between the two least
qualified candidates for the White House in American history.
But I fear for my country when I ponder that its chief executive for the coming four years will be a man
whose favourite rock and roll group is probably Moby Grope.
