Thousands of angy right-wing cafones waving thumbnail Constitutions and babbling maddly about Mexicans and guns and Jesus H. Christ and so forth are going to show up in downtown Cleveland, Ohio expecting to elect their favorite fanatical whack-a-doodle to the GOP's presidential nomination throne and any funny business on the part of scheming GOP insider elites to hobble the process might turn the gathering into something resembling an Egyptian soccer riot. And that's not good for business.
“When you hunt, let the game come to you.”
Trump, Cruz, Kasich are the current in-running bets for the nomination but an ominous shadow darts across the flat track grounds.
The stench of some terrible fate, carried on a cool breeze off the lake, washes over the infield.
High overhead a scavenging carrion bird circles the horse race.
Paul Ryan says he's not running for President and will not accept his party's nomination for President if offered. Well of course he isn't. Of course he won't. Not now. Not yet. You don't want your prey on guard, looking over their shoulder, when you're planning to sneak up behind them.
"The best friend of a hungry buzzard is a dead horse."
But what if something - just for the sake of discussion - something unfortunate were to happen that would make it necessary for Speaker Ryan to step up - be a stand up guy - and take the offer for the good of the GOP family, so to speak. An offer he can no longer refuse due to circumstances, unfortunate circumstances, yet to be realized.
You knoze what I mean? Just for the sake of discussion, let's just say there was a mess that needed to be cleared up?
We can do that, right? Everyone's ok with that? New York, Wichita, K-Street, 'The Mormon'? What about Wrigley Field? Wrigley ok?
Yeah, sure... everyone... Wrigley had some concerns but we promised them a share of the vendor concessions from the July thing... they'll go along...
That fuckin' clambake in Kennebunk ok with this?
Yeah, shooor, the old lady's got a real hard-on for the orange blowfish. It's personal with her. Even offered to send along a crate of downrigger cannonballs in case we need to do a little catch and release out on the lake.
Ha-ha, maron, that old cooch is oobatz!
Yeah, always looking out for her ragazzi. Spaventoso!
So what are we talking about here? White shotgun?
Yeah, but quiet. No noise. And make sure nothin' disgusting gets poured into the river. My kids like to fish in that thing.
How about that cha-cha-bird from Texas or Canada or wherever the fuck? Where are we with that one?
Call him in for a meet. Make sure he feels comfortable. Doesn't suspect a thing. Badda bing, badda boom and that's that.
Musta' run off to Toronto with one of his media spin-skirts. Make sure the Enquirer gets that story first.
Got it.
What about the Pope of High Street?
Seems harmless, for the most part, just doesn't know when to stop gambling. The guy just won't quit.
Ok. Buy his wife a new Cadillac CTS-V and give him something to do like hosting goulash and dumpling fundraiser nights at the Croatian Party Lodge out there off Lakeshore. He won't be any problem if we keep him happy and busy. We may need him for something later so buy him a fucking suit. The stupid bastard always looks like he just spent the night sleeping on an air mattress in a fucking tent!
Everything needs to be nice and copacetic for when the buzzard arrives. No loose ends, no one making noise, no uncomfortable questions. This is a fuckin' Republican Convention not a fuckin' democracy.
If anyone makes too much noise, like that yappy little radio mutt Hannity, stuff a sock in his mouth and lock him in Fat Roger's supply closet until he quiets down.
So that's it. Anything we overlooked? If not, we're all in agreement here...? Ok, then that's that. Bring the wine and make sure everyone gets a cannoli.
Salute.
