Inside Bubba's Brain — As He Writes His Convention Speech

Aw, schucks… I can’t figure out why I got into this…. Okay, I can. If that miserable Hawaiian Indonesian whatever-he-is got all the attention, I’d pop another bypass graft and end up with more stents than Dick Cheney. Whose party is this anyway…? The nerve of that guy acting like he runs the show. Thank God, Hillary’s in Vladivostok and I can sneak that masseuse up the service elevator. I can tell you one thing – I’ll treat her better than Al does. … Anyway, the masseuse is coming in a few minutes and that gives me just enough time to polish off my convention speech…. President Jarrett’s … excuse me, Obama’s… people have been bugging me about it all day. … They’re desperate as a family of starving raccoons trying to figure out what’s in it. Let ‘em. … All they want me to do is talk about how much Paul Ryan lies. … I dunno. … Not sure that’s the best subject for my image. … Might remind voters of the wrong thing – rather than how much better the economy was under me than under President Jarrett… excuse me, Obama… excuse me, Bush. … Okay, right, you read it — I blame Bush. Fallin’ in line here. I know it’s bullshit and George is a much nicer guy (both of ‘em), but, hey, a fellas gotta do what a fellas gotta do to elect Hillary in ’16. … I’ll heap praise on President Jarrett, er, Obama, but just enough, so they don’t blame me if he doesn’t get elected, which in my sober moments I fervently hope he doesn’t. Only a moron would think Obysmal’s more qualified to be president than Mitt. I mean – get serious. Still, if I said anything so outrageous they’d run me out of Charlotte and straight off the Atlantic Coast with the killer whales. Or, worse yet, claim I was still working with Dick Morris. (I wish he would shut up already.) … Not that I don’t want to make them sweat a bit. Or maybe set a trap. Praise the Hell out of Jarrett-Obama and then take everything back the next day or equivocate or praise Mitt’s business skills or… If I only could decide which is better for ‘16. Romney wins or Obysmal? If it’s Mitt, I risk him getting a second term and pushing us off to ‘20. By then Hill will be off in the old ladies home and won’t even know where Vladivostok is, let alone how to spell it. But if it’s Obysmal, he could botch things up so bad the Democratic Party would go the way of the Whigs, not to mention destroy the US of A in the process, a country I kind of admit I have a sentimental feeling for, like my old forty-five of “Don’t Be Cruel.” They might even start electing libertarians. (Well, secretly, that might not be so bad, but where does that leave Hillary – and, more importantly, me?) … What to do? What to do?… Ah, what’s that? The back door bell? The masseuse – and I haven’t even finished the speech yet. Maybe I should make her wait. Ah, screw it. Some things are more important. I’ll just wing the speech – like Eastwood.

(Image above incorporates a photo of Bill Clinton by Anthony Correia /

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