This race for U.S. Senate is crazier than a monkey writing a letter to Santa Claus in July. It reminds me of what my momma used to always tell me growing up in Zachary: “You can’t make a hog smile at itself in the mirror.” That woman was wiser than a toad on a rocket ship.
If she were around today, she’d probably say Louisiana needs to send another political insider to Washington like a blood drive needs to be run by a Jehovah’s Witness. Sending someone who’s part of the problem to fix the problem makes a loon drinking weed killer seem smarter than a Chinese egghead.
The polls may show the race is locked up tighter than the popemobile right now, but I’m counting on the good people of this great state to realize you can’t trust a mule eating waffles to pass the syrup.
There is a heaping pile of people in this race, and most of them when they talk make about as much sense as the captain of the Titanic begging you not to spoil Game of Thrones.
There’s Dr. Charles Boustany, who’s been in D.C. longer than Crystal Gayle’s hair. That boy couldn’t get a good bill passed if Lea’s Pies dusted it with titty sprinkles.
Take John Fleming, who — in his eight years in Congress — has helped fix Washington, D.C., like a possum fixing pizza. Electing him to the Senate would be like giving a rusty trombone to a scarecrow.
Then there’s Dr. Charles Boustany, who’s been in D.C. longer than Crystal Gayle’s hair. That boy couldn’t get a good bill passed if Lea’s Pies dusted it with titty sprinkles.
Plus, there’s that whole mess with him and that book Murder on the Bayou, which I had as much to do with as helping Christopher Columbus give AIDS to the Indians. Besides, that book is duller than a Topeka grapefruit.
Meanwhile, Caroline Fayard and her Ritz-Carlton bathrobe collection are so out of touch with the common folk, she wouldn’t know the difference between Sheetrock and saltines. That girl and her liberal elitist ideas are sillier than a goat cat-calling a squirrel.
Of course, David Duke is back at it, trying to pull teeth from a duck. I swear, that boy has as much chance of winning as he does getting ass play from grandma’s colostomy bag.
Then there’s the old feral populist who wants to tax everything he lays his good eye on, Foster Campbell. If he had his way, we’d treat every good, job-creating business in Louisiana like a sugar mill mule until our economy would look like a puppy trying to pull a freight train.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised old Bananas Foster is backed by another wild-eyed Democrat, Gov. Edwards. John Bel needs to spend less time spit-polishing Foster Campbell’s glass eye and more time taking care of the people’s business, like trimming the fat from the budget like a near-sighted mohel with a tremor.
Just remember, folks: If you’re tired of politics as usual, I’m the only candidate running for Senate who can straighten out Congress faster than John Wayne on an 8-ball. As your senator, I’ll clean up D.C. like I used to clean up the family outhouse after chitterling night.
Thank you, and God bless you.