A message from your next senator, me, John
Take a look at that disgusting critter. Good thing he's so small cause he looks galldern mean. There's teeth hiding in that arrogant little mouth. And look at them claws - bet they could rip you a new one if they were so inclined. And they sure do look inclined. Those beady little eyes look mean, that's for sure. Them eyes, they don't got no irises, do they, just black, black as night, black as death, they wanna paint it paint it paint it, paint it black. That is one scary song, no kidding.
Prairie dogs they're called, though in South Dakota the locals prefer to call this varmint a stinking sack of rat shit. Oh, how could you say that, they're so cute... Yeah, you idgit, you think they're cute until they bite your goddamn finger half off.
Senator Daschle likes to pretend that he hates prairie dogs, but that tofu-eating liberal doesn't hate 'em half as much as his opponent, me, John Thune, who rightly sees the senator as a 'Tommy-come-lately' when it comes to disdain for the fat bastard little rodents.
"Oh, no, I hate the bastards," says Daschle, without a trace of an accent.
"Huh," says John Thune. "You didn't became
anti-prairie dog until after you was boxed into a political corner. Let me
ask you something, Senator, what if those prairie devils was exposed to
deadly cosmic rays which cause them to grow to an enormous size - let's say eight
or nine feet, cause if they was any bigger than that, they couldn't get in
your house to terrorize you. Hold on, I'm thinking, five feet, six max, cause with
their enormous bellies they'd have trouble getting through the doorway if
they was bigger than about five or six feet. Just what would you say then, Senator?
Cause if it was up to you, we wouldn't have any assault weapons to protect
ourselves, and their knife-like claws would be half a foot long and covered
with blood. What would you say then, Senator?"
©2004, Mark Hoback