Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Who Moved the Cheese ?

A few years ago, when I was slaving in the "corporate" world, I was given a book by my boss and told that the company wanted everybody to read it. The title of the book was "Who Moved My Cheese" and the basic tenet was that corporations that don't change with the times end up running around like chickens (or in the case of this book, mice) with their heads cut off (which is something I have witnessed for real). The book was an OK read with a "GOOD CORPORATE MORAL TO THE STORY" but now, I think of something else when I think of the title of that book.

I think of the election season we are all watching. I would like to postulate some changes in the story to fit in with the politics. First, we are not watching cute little mice scurrying about looking for cheese in a maze. This is more like watching a bunch of rats chasing after a really huge chunk of "Golden Cheese", the U.S. Treasury filled with our tax dollars.

The story started in Iowa, with the rats poking their noses into every little nook and cranny in Iowa trying to track down the fattest nest of taxpayers they could find and then began kissing their butts and making all kinds of promises for a piece of the "Golden Cheese". That story ended with Huck and Jim cruising down the Mississippi on a raft with their respective little pieces of "GC" hidden in the tent.

Last night, Mrs Bubba, after crying a Mississippi River of fake alligator tears (YES, I know that the phrase "Alligator Tears" is an analogy for fake tears but Hillary is such a fake that her fake tears were fake), picked up her piece of GC, and loaded up the truck and headed for the bright lights of Vegas. The RINO was hot on her tail (what a visual that makes) ... UGGHHHHH ! Most of the remaining rats are following last nights winners to Vegas to gamble who will get the GC waiting there. Some of the others are skipping Vegas (maybe they don't like to gamble) and getting a headstart (good name for a welfare program) in South Carolina and Floriduh.

Another one bites the dust. Bill Richardson is taking his toys and going home to New Mexico where I guess his friends must play nicer than the POTUS wannabes.

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