Kollective Klown Kar
I am sure most of my readers have been to the circus. Most of us no doubt have fond memories of it. My son Daniel does not—he was deathly afraid of the clowns. My daughter Stacy, on the other hand, had a favorite toy—Bozo the clown, or as she called it in the proper Russian way, Boza.
The clowns were always my favorite part of the circus. Often they would all come into one of the three rings in a car, which immediately broke, spilling clowns everywhere. The antics of the clowns, often against each other, always brought a laugh from the audience.
But there is an analogy I want to draw with our modern political system and the arrival of the clowns in the circus. Obamzo and Romzo are fighting to become the head clown. Each struggling to take control of the steering wheel of our kollective klown kar. Neither is above a good eye poke, a swift kick to the posterior, or some sort of crude practical joke. No doubt each will point out that the other is wearing clown makeup. We can sit in the audience and wryly observe their antics as they pummel each other. It will get even more amusing as the election approaches and the loser realizes he will lose and becomes ever more frantic and unintentionally funny. I can hardly wait for the inevitable klown kar krash. Hilarity will ensue. (Or Hilary will ensue in 4 years.)
But wait, my analogy just failed, as all analogies eventually do. We are not in the audience, drinking our cokes and eating our popcorn, observing the antics from a safe distance. We are in the klown kar with Obamzo and Romzo. This is not good.
We cannot look at the coming klown kar krash in a detached way. We will be impacted by the crash. I suggest you buckle your seat belt, and pray, most definitely pray. Get ready for the crash.
Even though I am trapped in the klown kar, I will not put on the clown makeup, sorry.
Nuts, I just looked…klown kars do not have seat belts.
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