Post Turtle

As we watch the rules of the game evolve, the march to the White House continues, and the Post Turtles abound. More about that later.  I’m amazed that Obama doesn’t seem to realize how lame of a duck he is. And all this talk, and innuendo about his possible third term. NOT! Just stick a fork in Obama, he’s done. He’s looking for a legacy. Well, global warming, which was caused by all the hot air coming out of his administration. My word to the loyal opposition: Ok, you got your black guy, now it’s time to move on.

Donald Trump is taking the nation by storm, in spite of the main stream media polls telling us that everyone hates him. Cruz? Well, what can I say? Ted Cruz came blazing out of the Tea Party not long back, even got on the cover of Texas Monthly holding the Bill of Rights. He gathers a few victories, but frankly folks, I’m a Texan, and I fully understand taking a butt-whipping and spinning it up into a win for the public, i.e. the Alamo. In any twelve step program there is a first step where you have to at least admit things are screwed up. Ted ain’t gonna win. Then, there’s that other guy, the ringer, who hangs on, and hangs on, and hangs on, like an ex-wife you owe a boat load of child support while she’s living with some guy named, “Animal.” You remember Animal, don’t you. The guy she ran off with. Well, that’s this guy.

Mitt Romney rattled his chains, and the fat lady ain’t sang on that one yet. Side note; I spent the better part of the weekend watching two things. One was re-runs of “To Catch a Predator,” and the other was long, boring videos on how the Mormons are going to take over the world, and their prophet is the “Beast.” The Predator series, because I just love to drink Jim Beam and watch stupid, and the Mormon thing because I just love to drink Jim Beam and watch stupid. Remember “Deep Survival?” Well, that’s Mitt Romney. Uh, he ain’t gonna win either. Next.

Sanders. I love to watch him speak. Same deal, drink Beam and watch stupid. He comes off just like those guys in that kitchen with a six-pack, and a package of condoms trying to say that they were on the way to the library when they accidently lost their clothes in some thirteen-year-old girl’s mom’s garage. This guy is a stone hippy. He could play a part in a Cheech and Chong movie. You know, where Cheech is in a straight jacket on the floor of some nut house, and Sanders offering him, “The Key?”

Then there’s Hillary, Presidente Designado. Liar, Liar, pants on fire, and considering the size of those pants that would be a bigger fire than the one at the embassy in Benghazi. The email scandal, what’s that? Hillary was so stupid that what she did was akin to a cheating husband saving his love notes to his girlfriend on his wife’s iCloud account. Cheating husband, Hillary, I digress.

All of the above, save one are “Post Turtles.” What’s a Post Turtle, you ask. Well, I’ll tell you. So you driving along some country road and come upon this gate with two posts on either side. On top of one of them is a turtle. Now, work with me on this. The turtle didn’t get up there by himself, he doesn’t belong up there, he doesn’t know what to do while he’s up there, he’s elevated beyond his ability to function, and you just wonder what dummy put him up there in the first place. POST TURTLE! Trump is not a post turtle. So, we watch and see if the will of the people will prevail, or will some new reality series distract us, and we end up with a post turtle. Ya’ll be cool!