| If the kingdom's pundits are to be believed, on the eve of the Republican National Convention the sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits lies in tatters as wild-eyed untamed PUMAs* frantically pace nearby. Starved out of their minds and thirsting once and for all to shatter the bane of their embattled existence, they diligently point flared nostrils to the wind, yearning for the faint whiff of politically charged estrogen. For the smell of this elixir would instantly transform the mange-ridden pack into a proud, free, brave coalition of yesteryear, a dream team so close to propelling their once fearless leader through a barrier to hallowed ground, they could taste the side of hash browns, eggs, and steaming coffee served a la Lincoln's bedroom on a tray. But alas, it was not meant to be. And so, the PUMAs pace, all the while biding their time unable to bond with the anointed one. Now lo and behold, the Republicans offer a bone. A comely female pure and true, politically charged with no less than an entire state at her command! Wafting estrogen permeates the air, its charge so electrical the packs' downy hairs stand straight on end. "This is who you've been waiting for," cry the Republicans, "What a grand example of femalehood and she is yours, all yours for the taking." If the kingdom's pundits are to be believed, the PUMAs pounce, jumping ship from the callous party who ripped the fibers from their very souls. Instinctively, they greet the comely mistress, abandoning the sisterhood of traveling pantsuits lying crumbled in a heap of ruined dreams. They shall embrace her as one of their own, heaving high above their shoulders her glorious promise of future prosperity. She alone shall ride the crest of their fallen hearts. For she, this maiden savior, is their one true hope, their battering ram to height of promise. She alone will lead them to coveted hallowed grounds with open arms and glad tidings of joy.... *party unity my ass |