Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
Behold the un--stretching of John McCain ... while Geithner looks on. My painting of McCain, annotated during the Republican Convention of whenever it was, has graced the walls of my living room for quite a while now. But enough's enough. And besides, I need the wood to paint this:
And I'm sick of him, anyway. McCain ... not Dodd. That whole wall thing bugs me. I hope he gets his ass handed to him in November.
Let me ask you this: Do you have a will? Let's assume the answer is yes. And, if you do, that means you also have an executor. A person who you believe is responsible enough to carry out your last intentions in a competent manner. Because, after all, in most cases this is the well-being of your family we are talking about.
Now imagine this: Imagine that you are an extremely successful businessperson with a far-flung empire. You would want to pick somebody of extreme competence to run the show if you die. Wouldn't you?
Now consider the notion that the Vice President of the United States is, in effect, the executor of the President's will. Someone who will run the show if he dies. A task often said to be the most difficult job in the world.
Metaphor in hand, there can be no forgiveness for picking Sarah Palin (a woman the best thing about whom can be said being that she's a charismatic nitwit) for the job. None. I hope he gets his ass handed to him in November.
1 Comments:
August '08 seems like such a quaint innocent time in hindsight. We have the twin amusements of the Olympics and SP arriving on the scene, before all hell breaks loose and the world realises how dire things really are.
Cup of tea? Absinthe would be more desirable.
As for wills, I never intend to die (at least in this lifetime), so I don't have one.
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