Thursday, December 8, 2011

High times in Des Moines

"Hey! Hey! Don't be scared, Michele, it's not a real soldier, it's a cardboard soldier... I get your point, though. Sorry... If you're lookin' at it from the corner of your eye, it looks like a soldier that's been in some sort of horrible life-alterin' accident. I probably shoulda brought along a full soldier but the half ones are easier to cart around... Sorry for scarin' you but I like to kinda subtly point out that I support the troops. Hey, whatcha doin up here in Iowa?"
 
"That has to be about the dumbest question I've heard since Tim Pawlenty asked 'If not me, then whom?'"
 
"You think? I mean, I know that's supposed to be hurtful and all but it's not all that dumb. You and Santorum are the only ones who've been campaignin' up here on a regular basis. Up until now, anyway. I just got myself Prevost XLII."
 
"A Prevost XLII? That's one sweet bus. I should have gotten one of those back when my campaign could still afford it. You think the money is never going to stop pouring in..."
 
"But it does."
 
"It certainly does, and in the end all you're left with is a hundred thousand copies of a book you can't give away... Think you'll get out of the race after Iowa?"
 
"Nah... I gotta stay in at least to South Carolina. Might pick up a delegate or two. That's better than Giuliani did. And then... It's a long way till Texas, isn't it?"
 
"Mmm, Super Tuesday. March 6. I've only got until February 7th to get through Minnesota."
 
"Lucky girl. I figure you gotta stay in until you do your own state or you're gonna look wimpy."
 
"You would absolutely look wimpy... I sure an glad that I'm not from California."
 
"You know what's even worse than that? Utah. June 26th. Last in the nation."

"Hee hee... And they're proud of it... You know, Rick, it's not too late. Anything could still happen. I keep waiting for Newt to blow up. It's just a matter of time."

"Maybe it'll happen at the Trump debate."
 
"Oooh, that reminds me. I still haven't RSVPed to that, yet. If I keep stalling, Donald is going to start saying disparaging things about me. Are you going?"
 
"Hell, no. I may not be the smartest guy in the room, but I ain't dumb enough to go to that clown show. I said I was too busy, but I know Trump's gonna trash me anyway."
 
"Well, I don't know. It might be a good opportunity in some ways. I wonder what one wears to a Trump debate..."
 
"From what they tell me, Michele, the best thing to wear might be floppy shoes and a red rubber nose."
 
"I've got one of those I swiped from Herman Cain! Boy, he sure did make the rest of us look good, didn't he?"
 
"Yeah, it kinda makes you wonder who they're callin' the crazy candidate now."
 
"As long as it's not me, I don't care. Whoa, look at the time. I've got to go choke down another loose meat sandwich and kiss babies at Lucy's Skyline Cafe."
 
"Sounds better than the Chuck Grassley corndog meet and greet I've got planned. See ya on the road."

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