Tuck in Your Belly, Dear, Mommy is Talking

At the risk of offending any of our republican readers... I now reflect on the events of last night's Republican National Convention. See the Big Firm is not a political man. In fact, quite the opposite. Generally speaking, I don't give a shit. Calling me ambivalent would give me too much credit, but at the encouragement of my brother, my mother, and I'm sure DVW, I am taking an interest in what I'm told is the most important election of our generation. And here I was thinking that Dave Hess for student body president defined me as a voter. But you throw in a hot mother, a teen pregnancy, and goiter the likes of which Frank Beamer can't comprehend... and wouldn't you know it, I tuned in last night to see what the GOP has in store for our nation.


And boy was I enthused to see that the teacher/stripper from Varsity Blues is John McCain's running mate. But before I could digest the notion that I wanted to have sexual relations with the republican VP nominee, I was distracted. By what you ask? By the vomit projecting from my mouth after I learned what her daughters were named: Bristol, Willow, and Piper. Either she's starting a law firm or Sarah and her world champion snow machine driving husband are spending too much time with the WD-40 sniffin Eskimos in her home state. Oh young Bristol, you are an inspiration to every teenage girl who thinks/knows condoms take away all the feeling. There you stood, proudly composed on stage gripping the hand of your baby-daddy. We can only hope you are having twins, the more Palins the better.


But you know what really throws me off? Black republicans, that's who. My trusty comrade and fellow editor Stand Whitie gave me some great news last night, so the only true black republican I could name off the top of my head has flipped the switch on me. But a quick glance around that St Paul arena last night, and alas, I spotted this mysterious human being. Not many of them, but I spotted them. What's more, a black COWBOY recited the pledge of allegiance. Amazing! I'm starting to think the Republican Party might itself be the party of change. And what's with Joe Lieberman??! Talk about perplexing.

The Republicans were pulling out all the stops. First they Weekend-At-Bernie's Cindy McCain, who I am still convinced is a dead person, despite her movement, clapping and smiling. Then they managed to offend community organizers nationwide. One minute they've got the young single mother vote securely in hand, the next they are degrading social commitment. It's all very intriguing, to say the least. And is it me or did McCain look a little bit too concerned that he might catch down syndrome from that baby? Because when he went to lightly pat young Trigg on the head, he looked a wee bit squeamish. I'm just sayin...

As a side note, we should all thank the lord Rudy Guliani is not still running for president. The only thing possibly more distracting than Sarah Palin's backside would be Rudy's lisp and sinister disposition. Would it kill him to remove his retainer before taking the stage? I doubt it. I simply can't fathom the spit he would generate and dispense on front row observers over the next few months were he still a prospective nominee.

But all of the above really isn't that important in the scheme of things. I mean, presidents come and go. But the Phillies and the playoffs are a rare union, and it's time we focused our energy on pushing our beloved Phightins into October. It starts tonight in Shea. Go us.