Once, several of our nine lives ago, we cats decided to have a unique viewing of the 1939 classic, The Wizard of Oz. We spent the whole movie watching Toto, and only Toto. You wouldn't believe the stuff we saw! You've got to wonder if the editors talked about snipping out the scenes in which he shook himself all over, as dogs are wont to do.
In that same spirit, we'd really like to see a compilation from last night's masterful State of the Union address of just Preacher of the House Mike Johnson, who, with his diminutive size and grimaces, seemed a glorious new incarnation of The Lollipop Guild. Bet he wished he'd never welcomed President Biden to Munchkinland.
The hijinks began even before the speech, when he stood on the dais with Vice President Kamala Harris, who from her body language obviously loathes him. (Who wouldn't, when there are reports that to make desperate small talk, Johnson asked her if her parents were dead yet?) Then when the Biden Barnburner got underway, it was clear that Johnson had decided that a continuous look of befuddlement and chagrin was the only way he was going to get through it.
Why do misanthropes bother to go into politics? Hell, even the foolish and inept Kevin McCarthy knew how to gladhand. But Johnson is so out of his depth — an idealogue who doesn't know the first thing about Joe Biden's area of expertise: "the connect." When you're a white male right-winger from gerrymandered Louisiana, you can campaign on denying people their rights in the name of God, but it doesn't mean squat when it comes to managing your fractious caucus or behaving like a decent human being in front of 330 million Americans.
Somebody get that poor man a lollipop (he probably doesn't drink). And let's put him out of his Speaker job come November. We cats PURR.
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