Trying to mop up the Tea Party floor with a Vice President’s head.

Mittle Me knew that Southern conservatives found him to be a Milch Cracker.

He knew he could never be a real Cracker or a real Southern country boy, no matter how many times he rode in a ‘Norquistrian Anti Tax Rodeo.’

Dressage seemed like Bronco Riding In Spats and Waistcoat.

He did not understand that country people, who knew how to do things with their hands, knew his soft hands got dirty only by firing others who had callouses on their hands. 

He was the big ranch owner who could sell their jobs overseas. 

Chinese Cowboys would be spitting tea leaves instead of tobacco.  It was so confusing.

Milch Crackers apparently do not have to list the ingredients of their tax records on the party box. 

Real Crackers have to count those cows, and KNOW how many cows they have, and disclose that number when the buyer shows up at the cattle pens.

Country boys knew a Chinese farmer might not like a Milch Communist Noodle, any more than they liked a Milch Cracker Capitalist.

They knew he played the race card to see if he could make them feel taller by standing on some other poor boys neck.

The blame some other skin game could work for a while, but the more he cried Obama, the more it seemed he cried Wolf.

After Osama had been killed, Obama seemed more like a Wolf than a Milch Cracker seemed like a real country boy.

He had to get that Tea Party Floor politically mopped, so he stuck Pullet Hawk’s head on a stick and dropped it into the bucket of cheap hope. 

Hope for cowboys ever owning their own spreads in a Corporate feed lot landscape?

Milch Cracker swabbed the deck with someone else’s face.

Maybe if they did not like a Milch Cracker for president, mopping the floor with a young rooster would make them feel more like they were at a Cock Fight.

Having a rooster on a political stick, and slamming him onto the Southern political floor to draw a little blood in front of smart Southern women needing a good job, did seem to disrespect their women.

Once should not expect a Rich Milch Cracker to understand ordinary work, but disrespecting Southern women by wanting them to to carry a rapist’s baby just seemed like real bad mop water.


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