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My Offer's On The Table

by The Cranky Media Guy

They say (whoever "they" is) that every man has his price.  I've finally figured mine out.  It's $5600.  We'll come back to that.  First, I have a question: how much did the Republicans have to pay the Disney people to make that incredibly lifelike John McCain robot they demonstrated last night at their convention?  It looked just like him, didn't it? 

Only thing is, they need to work on the speech program a little.  The robot was saying stuff that McCain, "the conservative even liberals love", would never have said, some crap about how much he admired George W. Bush and how honored he was to be able to support him for the presidency.  That's more out of character than having the Lincoln robot in the Hall of Presidents at Disney World singing the Thong Song.

Seriously, though, I'm sitting in front of the TV watching John friggin' McCain, who survived five years of torture in the Hanoi Hilton, the captain of the Straight Talk Express, suddenly acting like the GOP version of one of the pod people from Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  Wassup wit dat!?  I'm wondering, did George W. come up with some new kind of torture the Viet Cong never dreamed of? Something like forcing McCain to watch a Big Brother marathon, perhaps?  (that would give the poor SOB flashbacks to his days in Nam for sure)  Nah, not even Governor Bush, the Torquemada of Texas, the Grim Reaper of the Rio Grande, could be that cruel.  Ultimately I concluded that it was probably the oldest incentive in the world that turned McCain around.  In other words, they bribed him.

What, after that stunning display of pride-swallowing McCain gave us on national television, you don't think he's in line for an ambassadorship to Wherever The Hell He Wants?  I do.  It's simple: for all his posturing about "reform" earlier in the year, ultimately he had a price and they were willing to pay it.  We, the unwashed, aren't privy to what that price was just yet but if Bush wins in November, it'll make itself obvious soon enough.

Anyway, back to me.  After last night, I figure if John McCain can auction off his integrity, it should be okay for me to do it, too, right?  Shoot, I'm not even asking to be named Ambassador to Maui or anything; all I want is a lousy $5600.  Why that amount?  Hmm, how can I explain this?  Well, let's put it in stock market terms.  While others were sinking their trust funds into dot com companies, I was heavily invested in Discover Card.  To extend the Wall Street analogy, I was "buying on margin".  I'm not a deadbeat who can't pay his bills; I'm an investor who finds himself temporarily short on funds. Ah, the power of the euphemism!

All kidding aside, They Who Issue The Plastic Cards would like their money, ASAP.  I don't have it.  Not to disappoint those of you who picture me starting the fire in my Hibachi with Microsoft stock certificates or handing out Faberge eggs to trick-or-treaters, but we here at Cranky Central are kinda broke.  It's been a rough year so far; the Missus has congestive heart failure, requiring a lot of various medicines and our daughter developed Bell's Palsy a few months back.  Kids today and their wacky fads, huh?  Oh, did I mention that we have no health insurance?  I left out the part about the car's radiator leaking (oops, I guess I just mentioned it).  If someone at the nursing home hadn't stolen it before she died, I'd be selling my mom's glass eye on eBay for lunch money.  Ghoulish, perhaps, but I hear those Goth kids dig that kind of thing.

So, are you listening, George W. (or, for that matter, Al G.)?  For a measly $5600, less than either of you will spend on a day's worth of red, white and blue balloons for your convention, you can have this site's Official Endorsement.  If it's Dubya who coughs up the dough, I'll even go back and delete all the jokes about Dick Cheney's lesbian daughter (and if you think that won't hurt, you're wrong, Mister!).  

Now mind you, I won't admit that I'm only endorsing you because you paid me off; that would be unseemly.  I'll just subtly change the tone of my commentaries to make them more friendly toward you, my benefactor.  You know, just like Rush Limbaugh did after he got to spend the night in the Lincoln bedroom when George Senior was living in the Pale Palace.  We'll even erase this commentary to "tidy things up" a bit.  Nudge nudge, wink wink.

So, uh, what more can I say here?  You have my offer, you have my price and you know where to reach me.  I guess the ball's in your court, George and Al.  Oh, and for those of you who think I'm "selling out" merely to keep the Discover goons from breaking my typing fingers, I say --in the spirit of the new, inclusive Republican party (which I may soon be joining)--"Don't hate the playa, hate the game."




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