Letter to the Editor: Who kidnapped the Republican Party?

Staff reports

As the embers from the”American Century” dim ever more faintly in the mind’s eye, the Governor of the Lone Star state continues to offer himself up as a case study in what we have wrought.

Recently, in a prepared speech, (the emphasis is all mine) Gov. Perry was unable to state what the legal voting age is in America. This came on the heels of a different speech in which his behavior was so bizarre, his own supporters wondered if he was under the influence. That speech was preceded by his debate debacle where he was unable to name the three Federal Agencies his own plan had identified as in need of urgent elimination.

The debate meltdown was preceded by the revelation that his hunting camp went by the quaint racial epithet of N*****, well, you get the idea. It’s been said that when “Stupidity” reaches $200 a barrel, the person who holds drilling rights to Mr. Perry’s brain will be a millionaire. More tactfully, I would say that when it comes to being of Presidential timber. Governor Perry lags somewhere behind Pinocchio and Mortimer Snerd.

The question before us then is: whatever gave Mr. Perry and his supporters the idea that he would make a good President? Since the only qualification required to be the leader of Texas is the desire to do what the Oil Industry tells you to do, we must conclude that Mr. Perry was assured that as President, he would have advisors in Washington also to tell him what to do. He, of course, like his gubernatorial predecessor, would still be “The Decider” (wink wink). His main duty, however, would to simply play dress-up. He could wear a flight suit one day and the next day he would be given new Wrangler jeans so he could pull brush on his make-believe ranch. It’s easy to picture the governor on a horse; presiding over a G-7 Summit, however, requires some imagination.

Tellingly, Mr. Perry isn’t even the worst Presidential candidate the former Republican Party has pulled out of their hat. The candidates remind me of the old painting of the Poker playing dogs. There’s Newt, looking like a truculent poodle, with an ace up one sleeve and a club sandwich up the other, while Mitt calls the governor’s bluff to the tune of $10,000.

There’s Mr. Cain, with his pimp-styled Fedora, playing his version of Texas hold-’em with Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin, while Ron Paul argues that there should be no rules in Poker.

I’m not sure exactly who kidnapped the Republican Party and put forth this group of impostors, but to support any of them would make you an accessory to the crime.

James Cook