Tuesday, May 31, 2016

D.C Rats Chime in on Politicians

I had planned to pen something about Memorial Day, but when I looked around I saw so much already written about it I decided to write about something a little different.  How about the underside of America, where our country might be heading? Or is it already there?
A pack of rats sitting, chewing the cheese on the Crapitol dome.

“Oh, rat, it feels just like home here, all the rats around,” said Harry Rat, grasping a piece of donor “cheese.”

“There’s so many rats of different stripes around anymore,” exclaimed Steny Ray.

“Any so many who need to be in stripes,” said Lizzy from Massachusetts.

“Yeah, all the two-leggers coming to town really expanded the population. The Crapitol is chock right full of rats, depending on how you look at it,” says Harry.

“Did you know – it was in the Rat Hole Post the other day – there are now more politicians than rats?” asked Nancy Rat “And do you know how to tell them apart?”

“Uh, uh,” says Harry waggling his head back and forth.

“There are some things a rat won’t do for money.”

“Don’t you compare me to a politician!” roared Harry. “I won’t stand for it!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy, Harry!” said High-minded Hillary, lifting a placating paw to calm him. “You have a senator for a pet, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, she’s just about completed her training program, too.”

“Oh, yeah, what are you teaching her to do?”

“I-I don’t know if I should say. It might be construed as politically incorrect. Even we must be careful these days.”

“Oh, pooh on politically incorrect. That’s for when two-legged rats are caught lying by conservatives and they need a way out of the lie. Come on, tell us. What have you been teaching your senator?” her eyes gleaming with interest.

Harry, looking shy, says, “Every time I nibble her ear before sending her to work, she brings me back a piece of pork. It’s like a sexual thing, you know? I nibble, I get a piece.”

“I had a senator for a pet once,” said another. “Worse thing I ever did.”

“What happened? I ‘ve been planned on going to the pet store and adopting one,” said Nancy.

“Don’t bother. The damned thing crapped all over the place, drooled all the time and lied through its teeth, explained the former senator owner.

“Rats can be vicious when protecting their territory,” said Nancy. “That’s another difference between rats and politicians. Politicians won’t even defend their country. I also read where there is quite a number of animal species becoming extinct, except of course politicians, environmentalists, rats and, oh yeah, cockroaches.”

“Wa-a-ait a minute, sister, don’t you dare put us rats in the same category as politicians and, especially, them damned environmentalists. You hear me?” yelled Harry Rat, waggling a finger in her face. “I won’t stand for it!” stamping his foot and glaring at Nancy Rat.

“How about cockroaches, Harry? You forgot to mention the cockroaches,” said Steny, with a teasing smile.

“Heck, I don’t mind cockroaches. It’s them damned politicians and low-life environmentalists we could all do without.”

A half dozen or so rats walked over and greeted them all. The new group was better-dressed and generally appeared more affluent than the others, a fact that did not go unnoticed.

“Hey, fellas and girly rats, what’s up?” asked Roger Rat, one of the well-to-do.

“Ok-a-ay” answered Steny. “You guys are looking mighty fine. You find a new job, Natty Ratty?” directing his question to one of the others.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, took a position with Media Matters.”

“So you joined the two-legged cockroaches, huh? And you, Barney?”


“Since when do self respecting rats join up with the likes of that bunch?”

“Bunch of what?” Juan Rat wanted to know.

“Bunch of low-life critters that’ll lie, cheat and steal to get the Clinton woman and others elected. It’s pretty obvious she knows she can’t be elected on the up and up.”

“What makes you say such a thing?” asked Clementine.

“Well, for one thing, they helped get BO elected twice. He should never have been president even once. He’s a real estate agent at heart.”

“Whachu mean by that?” she asked, eyes narrow slits.

“All he needs is a For Sale sign on his back,” said Harry.

“Well, what about his war on drugs?” she asked.

“He has one? I didn’t know.”

“He says he wants to get drugs off the streets.”

“One line at a time, perhaps? Didn’t know there was any less of it on the streets, it being an election year and all. And I certainly don’t like that he was always looking to raise taxes,” states Steny. “Pretty soon he’ll be taxing everyone, even rats, for their thoughts.”

“That wouldn’t bother him,” says Harry. “He wouldn’t owe anything.”

“You think he’s dumb?” asked Clementine?

“Oh, no, not really. But you know what I heard the other day?”

“No, but I’ll bet you’re going to tell me.”

“A friend of mine, Fievel, said he was lurking about near where Boss BO and Debbie Wassermann Schultz, you know, the blonde ditz, were chatting on the Crapitol lawn. They’re standing close together, there was a slight breeze blowing. Fieval swears he heard ocean noises coming through Boss BO’s ears. Ha, ha, ha!” roared Harry, all the initial crowd joining in.

“Oh, ha, ha,” blurted Clementine sarcastically.

“Listen, Clem,” Nancy put in, “if he’s not dumb, why is it so important for Media Matters, MSNBC and all the rest to make conservatives seem dumb, so he’d appear smart? He was trying to dumb everyone down to his level.”

“Yeah, all most of us know is there’s a village somewhere in Kenya missing an idiot,” said Harry, with a toothy smile on his face.

“Look at his wonderful economic plan,” chirped Clementine

“Yep, completely fact free. A model of Boss BO wizardry.

“How about all the good things he’s done for the country. Things were really bad and he fixed them!”

“Yeah, Boss BO, the mechanic. If it ain’t broke, Boss BO will fix it until it is.”

And Hillary has promised to follow in the great man’s footsteps. Time to move to another country – but which one?

As your next President I will make it a priority of my administration to make it comfy for you to stay in America. (But I will need your money of course. After all, I am a politician –albeit a human one.)

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Are Liberals Really That Stupid?

It’s not that Liberals are stupid; it’s that they know so much that isn’t true.
I heard that phrase years ago and wrote it down. I’m not sure I remember who first said it – but I’m pretty sure it was Ronald Reagan. He said a lot of clever things, such as: Government is not the solution to our problems; government is the problem. He also said, The most terrifying words in the English language are I’m from the government and I’m here to help.
Clearly President Reagan  had a clear eye for government.
Quite different from what we’re dealing with now. This chump simply cannot see a limit to government. He reminds me of the narcissistic king of fiction who wore no clothes, in the belief that the clothes could not be seen by people unfit for office or were just stupid. Consequently, so as not to be thought unfit or dumb, everyone in the populace said they could see the king’s threads. He paraded around in his “new clothes”, and was heartily admired by all. Until some kid said, Hey, he ain’t wearing nothing! The pretense of wearing such finery was of course smashed, but the king continued strutting about in his birthday suit, as though nothing had happened.
It’s sort of like it is now, isn’t it? There’s this president strutting about (although in the $3,000 Italian silk suit), changing this law and that, and there are all of these people admiring him as he struts, while pretending they’re not stupid and unfit. It’s like, Wow! If the guy’s wearing an expensive suit, we’d have to be stupid for not admiring him. It’s like the same kid that bared the ass of the vain king, yelled, Hey, BO’s wearing a really nice suit! And everybody thinks, Wow, ain’t BO great?
The bottom line in Hans Christian Anderson’s fable is, once you weed through all the cute stuff about the bare-assed king and everyone saying they see his clothes to keep from being thought dumb and unfit, is whether the admired person, be he king or president, has achieved anything of value.
What do you think? We don’t know whether the narcissist king achieved anything good for his people. But we do know that the narcissist president has cobbled up a country that was doing pretty well at the task of provided for more than 300 million people, many of whom have no business being here – and the narcissist wants to invite in even more.
Maybe the real bottom line of all this is whether government has any value. Certainly not at the level currently in place. The least the better.

As your next president, let me say this about that. Hide your guns and buy lots of ammunition. As soon as you see a bigger, uglier government looming on the horizon, start shooting and don’t stop until the “king” is running around bare-assed! If you’re Liberal, you will of course be obligated to think the king has his ass covered. If you’re Conservative, you are of course smarter and you know better.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Liberalism a Mental Defect

As you all know I, for quite some time now, have postulated the likelihood that there is something seriously amiss in the liberal Democrat brain. Something just ain’t right. As a presidential candidate I figure I owe Conservative voters some sort of rationale for the craziness we’ve been putting up with from liberals for the past several years.

 I saw an article on the internet a while back suggesting some people’s brains can shrink for various reasons, usually stress. I considered this at some length, integrated it into the postulation cited above, and came to the conclusion the phenomenon almost certainly had other causes in addition to stress. There was simply too much of it around to be the result of a single issue. After a bit of research on my own, I, of course, solved the mystery.

“Doctor, Doctor! Look at this. Is that my liver there on the MRI?” howled Hillary.

“No, of course not, Hillary. You don’t drink so much anymore. Remember?”

“Then what is that thing that looks like a shriveled prune?”

“This is a brain scan, madam, and that is your brain.”

“Oh, my. It looks like my brain’s been scandalized, doesn’t it?  Why is it so much smaller than the last time I had a brain scan? It seems so much dinkier and so awfully … shrivelly! Am I ill?”

“Yes, yes, I’m afraid you are, but not the way you think. Your brain is crappy looking because you’re a Democrat – a liberal Democrat.”

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” hand over mouth, “and it’s affected my brain?”

“Oh, yes. You see, it makes you think funny.”

Horrified, Hillary asked, “I think funny?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. I’m sure you have experienced asinine thoughts about things. Strange, eerie, scary-as-hell thoughts; like you’ll think something is true even though there is more than enough evidence to show the opposite is true.”

“Such as?”

“Such as all the crap you’re talking about how woman are mistreated, and the truth is the problems caused by transgendered people are trumping (oops, sorry) feminist’s issues, and you’re saying nothing about it. You don’t seem to want to talk about people with penises who shouldn’t have them.”

“Oh, yes, I see what you mean, Doctor. The whole mess is so coo-coo, isn’t it?”

“Yes, coo-coo is a good name for it. Nitwitish as a loon is also appropriate for your condition. And no, I don’t believe any of you are well. Liberal Democratism is hugely serious and is not curable. Sorry, Hillary, you’ll always be a twit.”

“Doctor,” said a frightened Hillary,” how did we get this way, all the loonies and I? And Harry and Steny and Barbara? Ad infinitum.”

“Neurologists would say it’s due to an atrophied hippocamelotomus. A shriveled brain part. Very serious. And in your case, I’m afraid it’s bilateral.


“Yes, and ubiquitous. The more virulent strains very often occur in the stressful environment of a heated political campaign. Democrats get energetic trying to convince people of things they know aren’t true. It’s very stressful. Brains wither, Democrats get whacked out even more. And people continue to vote for them even when more sensible alternatives are readily available. So the disease is spreading. A colleague says he’s seen symptoms in moderates and people insisting on calling themselves independents, all across the country.”

“They say it’s stress that causes our brains to wrinkle up?”

“Yes, and prevarication. There are hypersteroidoscopical compounds called crapocorticals responsible for atrophy of hippocamelotomi in brains of rodents and apes – we’re convinced the same thing happens in liberal Democrats. Stressing the crapocorticals releases an urge for mindless behavior in people of this ilk. They develop an irrepressible desire to control those around them and make up stories about their motives. They become uncommonly sneaky and revert to smoke-filled back rooms to pass laws no one knows about. The worst of these rodents are unelected bureaucrats who pace legislative halls at night thinking up ways to curtail the freedoms of others, but not themselves. All the while, their brains are shrinking in the airless vacuum of pointy heads.”

“Yes, yes, I believe I saw several of those at the last Democrat caucus. Oh, my heavens, Doctor, I hadn’t noticed before, but the room was full of them! Many of them had brown stuff dripped from their ears.”

“Excessive brain crud,” replies the doctor. “Comes from a rapid decomposition and the development of expanding gases in the sponge-like brain mass. The condition gets really messy. You should use Q-tips to sop it up, or it gets stuck under the fingernails. Very unsightly.”

Hillary thinks for some time, then asks, “There’s no cure?”

“No, sorry. No manufacturer can be found who has come up with a way, or the will, to shove 

Monday, May 9, 2016

The Making of a President

Some time back The Flip Side crew attempted to create the ideal president. The splendidly able Dr. Friedrich von Fredenstein and his ghoulish but supremely clever assistant Eegore der Kleptsnauzer constructed a tall, handsome, very elegant looking man who unfortunately was possessed of no character. They complained there were few appropriate models to work from; there were no examples of honesty, virtue, loyalty and such from which to build. Hence their replica was much too common, too typical to be of any use in forwarding the image of what a President of the United States of America should look like and, more importantly, to act like.
      With great expectation I returned to Dr. Fredenstein’s lab, with the mission of asking him to re-create a candidate more fitting to be president.
       “Vot did you have in mind?” he asked.
       “Well … you know, something a little less tall than the last one you made, something a little less elegant, a little less hair …”
       “Ach, somethink that looks more like you, Newshawk? Vot do you think, Eegore, can ve concoct a Newshawk-type president out of the spare parts lying around the lab?”
       “Mebbe, Herr Doktor, as long as ve don’t have to use really spiffy parts.”
       “That will be okay,” I said. “Some of my parts aren’t that spiffy anymore. Do what you can to make me look really cool, though, okay?”
       Eegore disappeared into the nether reaches of the lab to look for any cool parts that might be on hand. Grunting noises could be heard as he tossed arms and legs and whatnot around in his search. Exclamations of disgust, such as “yucch” and “ugh” and “yikes, that’s some ugly guy” , making us wonder what he might be coming out with. Finally, after nearly a half an hour, Eegore emerged from the depths pushing a hand cart laden with marginally spiffy body parts.
       “Here’s an okay torso, as long as you’re not looking for anything really nice. You don’t look like you’re carrying a six-pack, so this should do for a start.”
       Eegore tossed the inelegant torso on the shop bench and hosed it off, to rid it of insects, crawling or dead, cobwebs and stuff like that.
       “Now vot should ve do for a head?’ asked Herr Doktor Fredenstein. “Over there’s a long thin one with lots of hair, like Secretary of State John Kerry.”
       “Don’t you have something with some brains?” I asked almost pleadingly. “How about that balding one over there? Balding heads are typically smarter heads, as you know.”
       “Yes, of course. One balding head coming up,” said Eegore, lugging one over from a dark corner and starting to sew it into place.
       “Vot vould you like for arms, Newshawk? There’s one over there with a nice Rolex on it.”
       “Nah. I’ve got a Timex that still works well – you know, takes a licking and keeps on ticking. I would like a set that bulges when I bend my arms.”
       “A nice set of guns coming up,” says Eegore looking around for a nice pair of matching arms. “Here’s one.” He disappears again into the depths of the lab in search of another that went with it. Sometime later he emerges, holding another limb, saying, “This will have to do, Newshawk. I don’t have two arms that ripple evenly.”
       “Well I’ll need two arms, so go ahead and sew them on. I hope you have a set of similar legs. Does a nice ass come with the legs? A president should have a nice ass. And one of my new legs needs to have a bum knee. I’m trying to stay as close to the original me as possible. And, by the way, will my new ass have a bad back attached? I really need an aching back. I wouldn’t know how to act with one that didn’t hurt.”
       “One aching back with a nice tush coming up. There you go. I’ll just sew them on in the right place for you. One above the other.”
       “Good thinking. I’d really like to have a president with some character this time around, Eegore. Have you got any laying around anywhere?” I asked.
       “Ooh, boy. I dunno. Let me look.”
       Eegore shuffled off into the darkness of the lab. He’d taken a flashlight and we watched as he moved the beam around as he searched. He was gone so long Doktor Fredenstein and I stepped out for some lunch, not arriving back at the lab for a couple of hours. Eegore was just emerging from the depths of the lab covered with cobwebs.
       “Ah, here we go. A small container of character balm, quite old I must say.” He pried the lid from the can and dipped a large gob of the stuff out with a finger. He set about providing the new president with character by pushing it in his ear. There must have been a natural reluctance to acquire a large amount of character as it began running out onto the work bench. Try as he might, Eegore could not keep very much character in the man’s head. The more he pushed it in, the more oozed out.
       “Oh, for crying out loud,” seethed Eegore.
       “Stick a cork in it,” I suggested. “Say, you wouldn’t have a nice fat wallet laying around here, would you?”
        “Hey, come on, whaddya want, Newshawk? The guy has very little hair, a dumpy body, arms that don’t match, a bad back, a bum knee, and very little character. He’s supposed to have money?”


Monday, May 2, 2016

Candidate Voss Clears the Air

I’ve been working very hard to construct worthy planks for my presidential campaign.
By “worthy” I mean I want to forward to the voters an array of workable plans for the future of the country.
For instance, I’ve noticed that this guy Obama talks incessantly about how well the economy is doing. But he doesn’t mention the 95 million Americans out of work or that more than 50 percent of Americans are collecting food stamps. BO’s minions insist the unemployment rate is a mere 5 percent, when in reality – counting the people who no longer are eligible for unemployment checks and have stopped frequenting unemployment agencies looking for work – the real number in somewhere in the 18 – 20 percent range.
Another major issue that is fast coming to a head is gun control. There is no question in the minds of right-thinking people that gun confiscation is a Nazi idea. Let’s call it what it is – democrats frequently refer to conservatives as Nazis, but it is not us who practice Nazi principles, now is it?
Another issue that BO’s troglodytes have lied about is the supposed policy of ending the Bush-era practice of raiding medical marijuana distributors. The Justice Dept. said from the beginning that raids would not occur at dispensaries in violation of federal law as long as they were in compliance with state regulations. (My interest in this is that I have it on good authority that marijuana in its various forms can cure quite a number of cancers.)  However, the JD has engineered in excess of 100 raids on pot dispensaries (mostly in California) that are in full compliance with state law. In addition,  there have been nearly 200 Nazi-like, SWAT-team style incursions on dispensaries in nine states with medical marijuana laws on the books. If I am elected I will immediately use my executive privilege to prevent further violations of the laws of sovereign states. I would tell the federal government to butt out, this is a state issue. (Damn, I sound good when I get tough, don’t I?)
The BO administration is still wrangling around the “climate change” issue (better known as Global Warming), trying to sidestep the Supreme Court ruling that said the government should back off – the EPA has exceeded its authority.  What SCOTUS should have said, but didn’t, is there is no such thing as man-made Global Warming. – there hasn’t been GW of any type in like 18 years. Instead the Global-Warming liars came out with a man-made study stating 2014 was the warmest year in history. (Apparently, it was by all of two/ 100ths of a degree, hardly measurable.) But the same year also saw record ice, record snow and record cold. Polar bears were thriving, although the GW liars swore they had all but disappeared.  Moose in Minnesota made a comeback after experiencing a big drop that the liars blamed on GW. Turned out it was wolves that killed the moose. Wolves were removed from the Endangered Species list and found themselves the object of a hunting season. GW is a ruse by the government and environmentalists to extract more tax money from the American taxpayer. Some of you are maybe old enough to remember it was the same bunch of wackos who called for an ice age back in the 70s. It didn’t work, so they came up with the GW hoax. But beware of Bill Nye the Science Guy. This jerk-off has been gone so long he needs an issue to get back in the public eye. He’s yelling loud and clear that he thinks all Climate Change deniers should be locked in jail. Yep. But when I’m elected president I will sign an executive order calling for jailing all jerk-offs.
(Boy, if that don’t get me elected, there’s no hope for me.)
There are of course very many other issues we can talk about as time passes.  I’ve looked over each of those above and have my own ideas of myriad others. The country is in such an awful mess. But there’s one thing I know – after eight years of this crap, I know exactly what not to do

Monday, April 25, 2016

Candidate Voss Out Hustling Votes

I was sitting having an adult beverage with my old friend Cornelia Nutsky, an old ditsy, liberal chick affectionately named Cornnut. As she does every couple of years Cornnut bothers herself over the upcoming elections.
“I fret that I cannot decide for whom to cast my precious vote in the November races, Newshawk. It’s so freaking flabbergasting.”
“Do you mean you’re actually concerned about the issues this time around, Corny, since you and your kind so expertly put that communist in the White House for two terms?” I asked. Cornnut was one of a crowd of women voters with no sense of the issues and uses the same philosophy to elect state and national leaders as she does picking winners at the racetrack: If the name of the horse sounds good – sexy, glamorous – she bets on it; that failing to bring a win, place or show, the colors of the rider’s stable would have to do.
“Oh, heavens, no, nothing so boring as that business of the issues. I can’t decide on a favorite color for this election cycle.” Like I said, Cornnut is definitely one of those we serious voters wish would stay home on election night.
“You and half the women in the country act as though you’re picking furniture for the living room, rather than representatives to lead the country – if that’s what they’re doing these days. If you’re disgusted with black, vote white, whatever fits your color scheme.”
“Well,” she said thoughtfully twirling a curl hanging near her ear around her finger as she spoke, “black and white are opposite colors. Do you think they are opposite in the administration of their affairs?”
“No, they’re similar, but they won’t fall into your color scheme. The color in vogue for state and national politicians anymore is pink trending to red.”
This produced a rumple to form across Corny’s brow. Politics always confuses her so.
“Are you implying that Barack Obama, our wonderful president, is pink, Newshawk?” a thoroughly disgusted look on her face.
“No, of course not. Barack Obama is red, through and through. And if you think the man is so wonderful, this wonderful man people like you voted for twice, explain why he’s trying so hard to bring illegal invaders into the country, many of whom have serious diseases.”
“Oh, foof. He’s doing no such thing.”
“Obama, who dreams of the moment guns can be confiscated from law-abiding citizen?”
“Oh, Newshawk, you really don’t believe those lies, do you? You just don’t like him because he’s black.”
“And that’s why you do like him?”
“Well, if I vote for a white candidate, my friends will think I’m racist. It’s just not done!”
“What if there was, say, a yellow person running for office. Would you vote for him or her?”
“That’s a ridiculous question. There are no Asians running in this election.”
“Why did you automatically think of Asian people when I said yellow. I’ve never seen a yellow Asian.”
“Well, I …”
“And I’ve never seen a red Indian, nor have I seen very many black black persons; most Negroes are a shade of brown. As a matter of fact most Indians are brown, as are most Latinos. Odd how the darker your skin is the less people think of you, white folks spend beaucoup bucks every year to tan into a darker color, and many have a bias against the skin color they strive to acquire. ”
“I guess that prejudice is why we ladies feel sorry for black people and feel we must vote for them whenever the opportunity arises,” she said with an I told you so smirk.
“You won’t have a black person to vote for in this election, Corny. But you’ll have your chance to vote for a woman.”
“Oh, my yes. That will be thrilling.”
“And you’ll vote for her, of course, even though she’s the worst possible candidate. Right?”
“Of course.”
“How about me? I’m a candidate. Would you vote for me?”

“Oh, foof. Vote for a pasty old white man? I should say not. My friends would laugh themselves silly. White is not a favored color in our set, Newshawk, and certainly not white men.”

Monday, April 18, 2016

Voss Declares for the Presidency


      I’m a president watcher. I think the most powerful man in the free world needs to be watched, some more closely than others. It’s pretty obvious why this is so.
I wasn’t always a president watcher. It began during Watergate and all the sneaky stuff that went on there. All those people being subpoenaed to testify before Congress, Bob Woodworth’s reports on Deep Throat. Nixon claiming, with his jowls quaking vigorously, “I’m not a crook!” No, but he was a liar. Anyway, after that I became interested in watching presidents. There have been some who bore a lot of watching and there were those who didn’t, but mostly there were more of the former.
I think a president’s philosophy of governance has a lot to with how close an eye needs to be kept on them. Ronald Reagan, except for letting Ollie North get him into trouble over that Iran-Contra business, played the job pretty straight, and the only ones that worried about him were the Democrats, who were up against it with concern over how bad he was going to make them look. Ronaldus Magmus, a laissez-faire kind of guy, famously said, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” That’s a fair-to-middlin’ philosophy. Other presidents should have tried it, but most couldn’t keep their hands off things.
For example, John Kennedy once said, “If there ain’t too much wrong with her, give her my phone number. If you’re not sure about her, give her Bobby’s number.” I’m told it was a philosophy apropos to the Kennedy boys.
Eisenhower had an interesting philosophy, one that may have worked well for most of the presidents. As you know, there were few pastimes Ike enjoyed more than a round of golf (like most presidents). He said, “If it works all right, score it par; if it’s broke, leave a note on my golf bag, I’ll get back to you.” Consequently, the years of the Eisenhower presidency were really good years. Happy times.
LBJ had a more aggressive outlook on the political landscape. LBJ said, “If he’s breathin’, ship him to Viet Nam; if he gets killed, don’t tell anybody. (There was quite a lot of combat-figure fudging during the war. Gen. William Westmoreland, commander of U.S. military forces in Viet Nam, frequently under-reported casualties at the conclusion of a battle.)
Which brings us to Richard “Tricky Dicky” Nixon, whose exploits first coaxed me into becoming a president watcher. Watergate was the first political event that prompted my interest in watching the news in the evening. I couldn’t get enough of the corruption. It was wonderful stuff. Anyway, back to Tricky Dick’s presidential philosophy. Tricky Dick said, his declaration accompanied by his characteristic hunched-up shoulders, head shaking, I’m-really-an-honest-man look in his eyes, “Let me say this about that! I solemnly assure you that if it’s broke, this administration had no prior knowledge of it. I’M NOT A CROOK! I’M NOT A CROOK!” He wasn’t a very good liar either.
I can’t say whether Gerald Ford had a philosophy. If so, I don’t know what it would have been.
Jimmy Carter did though. Jimmy did a lot of foolish meddling, which nearly put the country under. Some of you will remember the Misery Index, an economic indicator arrived at by adding the unemployment rate to the inflation rate. When Carter left office in 1981, the M.I. was just under 20, the highest of any post-WWII president This is, of course, where it stood when Ronald Reagan took over. When he left in 1989, the M.I. stood at just less than ten. Under Carter, inflation was high, unemployment was high, taxes were high, gasoline was scarce – and expensive. Everything the man touched was bad for the rest of us. His philosophy? “If it ain’t broke, tax it. I need the money. If it is broke, tax it. I need the money. Hell, just send the money!”
George 41 may not have had a philosophy when he first went to the White House, but I’ll wager he came up with one before he left. Remember, “Read my lips, no new taxes?” Then he raised our taxes. And was voted out of office in the next election. I would bet that whatever words were used to voice George 41’s philosophy, it had something in it about not lying about raising taxes. Wouldn’t you think?
Then there was Slick Willy Clinton – and he’s still hanging around out there, hoping his gal pal can con her way into the White House. Willy’s philosophy is predictable: “Remember the mantra, y’all, ‘I did not have sex with that woman.’” And, “It depends on what “is” is.” The philosophy? It is what it is. But what is it? He better hope the next female thing he plays “is” with doesn’t turn him in. I wonder, Does Hillary play “is” with anybody?
 W was under fire about his insistence there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq or Syria or some other place. Liberals have always claimed there were no WMDs; W simply needed a reason to go to Iraq to nail Saddam Hussein, they claimed. I’ll go to my grave believing I heard a news report in the early days of Desert Storm that stated American troops found the WMDs in Syria. I heard the report only once, never again. But I know what I heard. Someone was lying about there not being any such weapons. W’s philosophy? Never believe anything you hear, especially if its reported on NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN or MSNBC. Period.
And then there’s BO. Other than the destruction of our country, BO has no philosophy. He needs something to hang his hat on.  It might go something like: “The right thing? – I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
At this time I’d like to announce my candidacy for President of the United States!
One thing you can count on is I can’t possibly do any worse than the past four presidents-it just isn’t possible. The condition of the country, compared to the 50s or the 80s, is a crime. Anybody with his head screwed on even loosely must recognize the destruction liberalism has caused. Under my Administration there will be no liberalism. (READ MY LIPS – NO LIBERALS ALLOWED) Every liberal will be sent swimming back to Europe with a Socialist under each arm. Our motto: Let’s get together you and us, and kick liberalism under the bus. Rah! Rah!

                       VOTE FOR VOSS APRIL 19. Etc. Etc. Etc.

The Flip Side