If you really want to feel the BOOsh, you must click it.
It’s pretty simple, really; if you don’t remember how the pit of your stomach felt when George H W. Bush, and George W. Bush won their respective nominations and subsequent elections, then maybe you haven’t actually discovered the “pit” in your stomach. It’s an ill-defined region of the lower abdomen, regarded as the visceral repository of strong feelings, especially anxiety.
I know I have one, because whenever I see a political poll showing Jeb Bush leading that ever-proliferating pack of Republican tools, it immediately regurgitates a loop of his little brother, struggling to get through that simple aphorism, and I get the queasies bad.
I realize the head of Trump Entertainment Resorts will continue to blow up the Republican primary process until we are all nauseated. But eventually, one of those clowns will manage to wade through their political slime-fest and onto the convention floor, to accept the nomination.
Although it seems like that event is a long way off, already there have been one or two nanoseconds when the pit of my stomach reminds me— it could happen again— and sends my imagination spinning wild into a future where stupefying things happen: another Bush is handed the presidency by the Supreme Court; more young Americans dying in four, maybe eight more years of senseless oil wars; all manner of social and cultural backwardness, including the complete destruction of the “middle” class; and the depths of political despair. By God. We can’t let that happen. We can’t get fooled again.
