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by Ron Marr


         I've had it with Supreme Court judges who choose to create law rather than interpret it, who base decisions on partisan favors owed rather than the express intent of the legislative body. If such
marsupial jurisprudence was witnessed in Haiti or Serbia, our meddling American leaders would be crying for justice and sending in that 400 pound, peanut pickin' gorilla known as James Earl Carter.

         I'm tired of hate mongering Democratic spokespeople such as Paul Begala and William Daley and Jesse Jackson.  The first is a weasel who missed his calling by being too young to serve on the staff of
Rudolph Hess. The second is a product of mob quality genetics who no doubt can recite every line of dialogue in both "Good Fellows" and the entire "Godfather" series. The last is - well - I'm not sure what Jesse 
is. I just know what he wants to be. Don King. 

         I'm sick of the TV talking heads and their sleazy attempts to cover up the fact that they did their utmost to rig this election via early predictions and false numbers.  Face facts folks. The news and entertainment industries are owned by the same people, and conservatives have no greater adversaries than those who fund Hollywood. The phrase "Television Journalist" is an oxymoron.  Believe TV news at your own risk. That's almost as dangerous as believing a column by Ron Marr.

         I'm fed up with lawyers. I'm disgusted with "chads."  I'm repulsed by Palm Beach. I'm embarrassed that I ever lived in Florida. My buddy Mike "Mr. High Tech" Hibbard (owner of Jefferson River Auto in
Whitehall, Montana) claims that Florida is now the only state in the Union with the slogan "Elections fixed while you wait."  I tend to agree.

         Can we trade Florida to Castro for a few really good ball players and a couple boxes of cigars?  Please?  Pretty please?  We'll throw in Connecticut and Massachusetts too. Just give us one catcher, a
designated hitter and two dozen hand-rolled Havanas and we'll call it even.

         I'm not certain if we'll have a president-elect by the time this column sees print.  Frankly, I'm not sure we'll have a president-elect by inauguration day. I do know that, if Al Gore wins, I am going to have to make like Helen Keller for a few years.  I couldn't take hearing Gore's staccato drone day in and day out. I couldn't handle his pitiful attempts to mimic human mannerisms. I couldn't tolerate his fake laugh and contrived facial expressions and bald-faced lies.  No wonder the aliens drop-kicked > this awful critter from his home planet. In scientific terms...he's a jerk.

         More than that, and this is strictly my opinion, I think Gore is a few straws short of a bale.  He's been quoted numerous times (the latest incidence found in the most recent issue of Newsweek) as saying he must win this election at any cost, that it's his life, that without the Presidency his career will have been a failure.

         Al is a desperate and insecure man, and the idea of  a desperate and insecure man having control over thousands of jackboot-licking lackeys and one nuclear trigger leaves me less than giddy.  I wish Al would find a hobby, something to occupy his mind,  give him a  sense of inner peace and get him the hell out of our lives.  I could see him enjoying pastimes such as dressing up as a World War II era German nanny, goose-stepping around the room while Tipper cracks a bullwhip and hums the theme from Cabaret.  I think Al might get into burning up those five pound Florida roaches with a big ol' magnifying glass, squealing with delight when they popped open like a mango in a microwave.

         If Al wants to be President so damned bad, lets buy Peru and let him run that for awhile. They've got an opening.
's the deal.  I simply want this thing over and done with. Bush won the first time. He won the second time. He won the third time. For cryin' out loud...he won.  Given the chance, Gore will fight this election for eternity, but neither the country nor my blood pressure can wait that long.

         Al, listen to me. Give it up. You lost. Even if you scam and spin and wind up placing your rare collection of  pre-Raphaelite potato art on the windowsill of the Oval Office, you still lost. You can strut
and preen and tell yourself that you're the leader of the free world till the Tipper comes home, but it will be to no avail.  The country has absolutely zero doubt that you stole the election through technicalities and zombie shyster lawyers.

         Al, should you take this vote by hook AND by crook, I want you to remember something. When you walk into the room and the band starts up, please don't delude yourself into thinking you're Mr. Cool, a
matinee idol adored by the masses. You might be hearing the traditional anthem of the Presidency...

         But all we're hearing is "Hail to the Thief."

 Join the conversation about the election...

2000 Black Dog Publishing Inc


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America's New Ruling Junta:  The Judiciary

The Cynic hopes it will all end soon so Barney Frank can go back to being his old lovable self

Al Gore declares war on his fellow machines
Dorothy Anne Seese is amazed we are so closely divided considering the last eight years

View expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Political USA.

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