By the Cats
Let me be first to go out on a limb and announce my human candidate. My pick will come as no surprise if you know me. It’s Barack Obama. We have a lot in common, beginning with being black males of mixed parentage (I’m said to have a streak of Siamese).
I like the way he’s been working like a cat in Washington, rather than going to the dogs like the rest of them. If Barack would drop by for a quick photo op, I could instantly boost his credibility because no one has ever accused me of not being black enough.
We need an even bigger change than Yul envisions. To keep from losing interest after five seconds, men have to approach everything like it’s a team sport. That’s why they started these endless games: “Us vs. Terrorists,” “Repubs vs. Dems,” “Bush & Cheney vs. Sanity.”
The situation in Washington today is more foul than a litter box that hasn’t been scooped in seven years. That’s why my choice for president is Hillary Clinton. As always, a female needs to take over and clean up the men’s mess.
I like Kucinich because he’s a guy I can look in the eye without standing on a chair, but I’m betting my cat treats on John Edwards. Like me, he’s a true Southern gentleman, and we’ve both gone through rough times. You can’t lose a son and help your wife cope with life-threatening illness without learning something.
Under Edwards’ attractiveness and perfect hair (both feline traits, by the way), you’ll find a sadder but wiser man. We’ve had our tails repeatedly stepped on for seven years, and it’s long past time we started yowling. We need a president who will sincerely care about the well-being of all Americans – not just the fat cats – and that’s Edwards.