DOG EAT DOG POLITICS

Notes for a Children’s Book on Politics

Everyone knows Senator McConnell is a turtle

Mitch McConnell is a wealthy man, but he was not blessed with a handsome face. As he’s aged, his turtle looks have overtaken whatever was once human.

I am sure there is a children’s book in which McConnell the Turtle learns a valuable lesson after getting into a scrape with Lindsey Graham the Salamander.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I opened the newspaper today — because I am an idiot and cannot learn from my mistakes — I got hit in my third eye with a vision of Lindsay Graham (R-South Carolina).

I read a few sentences, but then I got distracted by another article about Roy Blunt (R-Missouri).

The point is, these aren’t faces I appreciate encountering, especially in the morning. As the most excellent philosopher John Prine observed:

“Some humans aren’t human.”

If only McConnell and the rest of these freakshows had the integrity and honesty of animals, which they are beginning to resemble.

Animal Farm is a classic because it tells it like it is, with pigs.

Imagine if McConnell’s turtle looks led him to get in touch with his inner turtle-ness. Would he seek refuge in his shell? Would a car run him down as he tried to get past the center stripe?

But it was a professional philosopher, Mr. Nietzsche, who asked the essential questions in Beyond Good and Evil:

“Supposing truth were a Republican, what then?”

Graham and Blunt: Analysis

I’m no spirit animal shaman high priestess, but it’s obvious the jackass from South Carolina is a creature with unnaturally smooth skin. I’m talking about Lindsey Graham, who’s been holding office for a stunning 19 years.

In the kid’s book I’m writing, he appears about a third of the way through, seemingly non-threatening but with villainous potential.

Graham is strangely unblemished, like a Swede who has unlimited access to a tanning bed. Could it be the Senatorial cafeteria food?

His skin tone removes the athletic cheetah and noble giraffe from the list of potential literary animals, as they are spotty beasts. Unfortunately, this means the opportunistic hyena is also off the table.

The honey badger need not apply. He doesn’t give a sh*t but he’s also bi-colored.

Alligator? Nope, they have one of the roughest hides in the animal kingdom.

This only leaves one possibility. Mr. Graham is a blind salamander, the kind that lives in caves and loves darkness.

The opposite of a tanned Scandinavian, he gladhands his way forth, making friends with the other animals, even though they talk behind his back and call him Slimy Sal.

Smooth skin? Check. Monochromatic? Yepper. Slippery AF? No one would disagree.

Graham appears a bit lost in the bright media lights, which is to be expected when you are a blind salamander.

As for Blunt, he is definitely a horse. Note the long face and copious hair.

Horses generally have an excellent reputation in books, owing primarily to their utility, metaphorical flexibility, and Orwell’s portrayal of Boxer, who solved every problem by working harder.

Based on his recent idiotic comments about how Trump might not have done anything wrong re: commandeering boxes of documents not his, Blunt’s a horse of a different color. Sh*t brown.

The book would open with his retirement, back to green pastures in his impoverished state of Missouri, where he discovers he’s not so popular now that miniature horses are a thing.

What About that Darned Susan Collins?

I try not to look at photos of Collins because it tends to enrage me. I can’t decide if she’s indecisive, naive, or ill-informed due to inadequate staff.

You’d think she’s only hiring Ivy League types in DC, but lately, good help’s hard to find.

The bottom line is she lets me down like a rope slathered in Crisco. Based purely on looks, I’d say Collins is a dog — not because she’s unattractive, but more because she’s insanely loyal. To what god or principle, I do not know.

Because she is from Maine, I’m tempted to call her a Lobster and move on.

She is Maine’s longest-serving Senator, and lobsters live virtually forever.

Yet, Lobster seems too good for the likes of this Kavanaugh-approving nincompoop.

I did a little reading up a la Wikipedia and immediately became an expert on Sen. Collins. I discovered she comes from a long line of distinguished, privileged white people.

Thus, I nominate the arctic fox, which is deeply white and blends well with its background. I also think her clueless act is foxy.

She will be a fox who hides in the snow until she realizes global warming is real, then she’ll begin to turn gray, and her hair will fall out.

And Last, My Senator, That Rat Bastard

Oh, he’s a rat. A dirty rat.

I live in Arkansas [insert hillbilly joke here] so Senator Tom Cotton (R) is something we have to live with, like logging trucks on narrow roads and poverty.

In 2020, this guy wanted to call in the troops to quell BLM riots. I have this feeling that in 2022, when the FBI finally hauls Trump’s flabby ass in, Cotton will advise restraint as yahoos with AR-47s take to America’s streets.

In June 2006, Cotton called for three investigative journalists to be prosecuted for espionage after they wrote about a classified government program called SWIFT that monitored terrorists via their financial accounts.

He wanted to prosecute investigative journalists for reporting about a secret government program to monitor terrorists.

I had to write that twice because it befuddles me, too.

Call me cynical, but I have a feeling Cotton will not support FBI efforts to prosecute a guy who lifted top secret documents from the White House.

Sadly, once I researched Cotton, I discovered he’s 6 feet 5 inches and eats leaves. He also has a long neck. This makes my initial impression — rat — unworkable. What’s that you say — what about a giant rat?

It’s true that giant rats sniff out bombs, and Cotton has a military background.

Let’s compromise and call him a rat-faced giraffe. He’ll be in charge of the other animals, but when they end up having to crawl into a cave — because all great stories either start or end with caving — Cotton will be out of luck.

Slimy Sal will have the upper hand.

Final Analysis

My attempt to take a microscope to the souls of politicians —a risky affair — is getting messier than a Cinnabon without a fork, although the prospect of a political allegory children’s book is rich in potential.

I try to remember they are people, doing the very best they can.

This is difficult when I see McConnell’s several chins in search of a tortoise shell.

I couldn’t do their jobs. For one thing, nobody would elect me because in 7th grade I copied some of my essay about Queen Elizabeth from the Encyclopedia, and then I made up the citations — every last one.

I’ve improved, incrementally, in the interim.

My animal self is purely rabbit, and we aren’t patient like that tortoise McConnell. We take shortcuts, steal vegetables from gardens, and don’t fully cite our sources.

If I were ever elected, however, I’d be okay with showing up in a children’s book. Since that outcome is doubtful, I’ll soon be writing “The Turtle Who Found His Shell — and His Heart.”

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Jean Campbell recently started her first Substack newsletter to laser focus on getting her book, City of Lies: A Street Hustler’s Omaha Journey published

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