This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

Elise Stefanik says, “She’d be Honored” (Garsh! Me! Falsetto, Me?) to be Donald Trump’s running mate. And here I was worried Nikki Haley was grossly unqualified to be Vice-President. Queen for a day Elise  was plucked from obscurity to fill the void left after the Party had railroaded Liz Cheney from office. The Party needed a woman to replace Cheney. Replacing Cheney with a man might be seen as “Mean” or “Sexist” or something, when it was nothing but pure politics. The big orange rooster must keep all the little chickens in line in the ole chicken house.

Cheney stepped out of bounds and spoke against the Party orthodoxy and for that she must be made to pay. The first rule of Fight Club and all. Cheney was out and Stefanick was “in.” She fit all the major profile requirements in being a woman, a Republican, and a back bencher too boot. “She’d be honored!” Honey; get Mike Pence on the phone because you two need to talk.

Trump moos approvingly in Stefanick’s direction and the poor child goes faint. Trump should be ashamed of himself turning her head with such nonsense. Trump moves the date for announcing his running mate from sometime AFTER he’s won the nomination and officially becomes chlorinated and coronated. Generally, it’s done at the convention, but it’s only Trump opening up early negotiations.

“Say there Mister or MS Billionaire on the go, do you have a political favorite? A woman you’d like to see get ahead, working hand in hand with the President? It can be arranged. You could find your career at its pinnacle one day as Donald Trump asks you to become his running mate on the maiden voyage of the S.S. Trumptanic. A doomed cruise with Rod Serling as your cruise director. Elise will be lucky to escape indictment or jail by the end of the campaign.

Ask the last guy about his experiences. Oh, the conversations you two could have! The tales of the orange mad man ringing Pence’s phone every five-minutes to harangue him for hours into committing felonies. Pence in the Capitol Parking garage January 6^th worried about keeping his life. But you go on ahead Elise, you do what your heart tells you! Maybe, it will work out much better for you than it did for Mike.

It must be something hypnotic in Trump’s body odor. Like a Venus Fly Trump and the flies just can’t stay away. They find themselves helplessly drawn nearer and nearer never asking where all the other flies went. Let me throw out just a few names. Michael Cohen, Rudy Giuliani, Bill Barr, Sydney Powell, Mike (What a maroon) Lindell. Plus, the hapless Mike Pence. Ask him his about his long dark night into obscurity riding with “The Pharaohs.”

Like the old Groucho Marx line about not joining any club that would have him as a member. Think twice: This could be a career ending injury. Joining the pantheon of failed former Republican Vice-Presidential nominees including (It’s a match!) Sarah… say it along with me, cause I know that you’re thinking it too, Palin. A matched set, bookends!

Intellectual lightweights new to the spotlight. New to the inner Party. Two years ago, the Party wouldn’t have let Stefanick serve snow cones at a Republican Party picnic.  Now, she’s Presidential timber and honored to be thought of as Trump’s running mate.

It’s like the Barbie movie come to life in absurdity. “Gee Barbie, do you want to be Vice-President?” Garsh, I’d be honored!

It begs the question if Trump announces now. What is the point of the convention? If you open all your gifts now, you’ll have nothing left for Christmas morning. Pretty clear indication who is doing the pulling and who is being pulled. The convention is a Republican Party function not a Donald Trump function, so Trump deflates it by announcing who he likes. “Badges? We don’t need no stinking badges. He’s Donald Trump, he doesn’t need your stinking convention. You need us more than we need you! So shut your pie hole and listen up.

Maybe like the Republican debates, Trump will counter program and hold his own convention or Town Hall event. Soaking up millions in free TV air time. Further blurring the line between the Republican Party and the parasitic Trump Party feeding off the guts and intestines of the late Republican Party.

Never mind the formalities! Trump has declared himself the nominee of the Republican Party. Not that that is a far-fetched assumption, but it’s a matter of form old boy. Like picking your nose, it’s just not done in polite circles.

Just days after the Iowa Caucuses where Trump received a lukewarm greeting in Trump country. Trump then installs himself as the Party nominee and begins to name his cabinet officers. The ministers of Elba, “Marshall Ney, assemble the troops!” There is a component of the fantastical and the unreal in the Trump campaign. “Yes, yes, I win again. I know, go ahead, and admit it. I WIN! Suck on it, you losers! Not on your best day and not on my worst!”

The days are hard, and the nights are long and when Mother Trumper got to the cupboard the poor dog had none. Trump declares the campaign over before it starts as a handy cost saver. Every dollar not spent running against another Republican is a dollar left for the general election. Trump is the winner, campaign over!

A Republican Party divided right down the middle over the issue of Trump, only Trump owns the Republican Party lock stock and empty barrels. And whatever Trump can’t control or be gotten around can be discounted. From now on, it’s the Trump Party now with special guests’ appearances, by the Republicans. You got that straight?

Will Elise be chosen as the Bride of Orange Frankenstein? Or will she be another victim of the slick talking traveling salesman trying to have his way her? Turn a poor small town girl’s heart with such big city talk and empty urban promises.

Anyone willing to take the job as Trump running mate should be automatically disqualified based on their willingness to be Trump’s running mate. For their own safety! For their own future and prospects. Oh my god, don’t answer that phone! It’s him!