It was pre-arranged at the Liquor and Rubber Balls Sport Bar and 1-Hour Martinizing that everybody’s wager on the name of the Dem VP would be held until the first day of the convention. Bidding closed on Friday. The envelopes, please.
Don Tequila himself is tending bar this evening, so he opens the envelopes and carefully sorts them by name. Of the 35 or so entries, only 4 name Joe Biden as El-Bama’s choice. About 20 name Swillary. Three have E-Bayh, another 3 have Bill Richardson. One idiot picked Kucinich, and the rest are just jokes: Ralph Nader (I was falsley blamed for this), Joe Lieberman, Ted Williams’ head (a Republican, but that’s the least of his worries), the inevitable Alfred E. Neuman, Rosie O’Donnell, and the St Pauli Girl, presumably to counteract Cindy McCain’s Budwesier connection.
The winners leered at the losers, who bought their drinks.
“El-Bama, Mr. Outsider, picks a 6-term Washington tool in the pockets of the banking lobby,” sneers Red Bull. “Well, excuuuuuuse me, but that’s horseshit. The Prophet of Change runs with the Duke of Folding Money.”
“Great choice!” adds Gentleman Jack straight. “They find some big mouth refugee from Scranton to speak to the bitter, gun-totin,’ bible-thumpin’ white people he left behind because Al-Obama can’t. And they call that ‘balance’.”
Can’t you feel the love among the Dems? Of course, this is LRB’s, a lesbian sports bar, and I suspect we’re awash in Hillaryites. Nevertheless, it’s clear there are some fences to be mended. What does the newly minted partnership need to do to smooth things over?
“Maybe serve a round of Kool-Aid,” suggests Don Tequila. “That’s how I handled the ‘Pubs when Grampy got the nod. Settled ’em right down.”