The Nossiter Net
The net that shall enmesh them all
Edited, Written, and Published by Josh Nossiter
How McCain Can Win
Saturday, May 24th, 2008
The Nossiter Net is cast  to snare some of  the riper rascalities of the day.  Comments?  Send a letter to the editor.
The great Vice Presidential sweepstake of í08 has begun. Politicians of every shape and complexion are preening, prosing, and posturing for a chance at the prize. Some contestants might surprise you. Itís three oíclock in the morning. In Washington, D.C. a phone is ringing. As Bill Maher notes, John McCain is up and ready to answer the call. The man is trying to pee.

John? Iím so glad I caught you. Itís me, Hillary.

How they hanging, Hill? Whatís a young lady like you doing awake at this hour? You should be getting your beauty sleep. Heh heh.

Tee hee. John, this is serious. Can we talk?

Sure Hill. Let me plug in my hearing aid. OK babe, fire away.

John, you know I never give up. Iím a fighter, not a uniter. Iím a white hard working American and I never cry uncle. Or Auntie. Right now Iíve got a little problem and you can help.

Whatever you want Hilly, you can count on me. Like I told you that time you drank me under the table in Georgiastan, or Shashleekistan, or wherever the hell it was. Remember? Christ, I donít. But then I donít remember a whole lot these days. What were we talking about?

My little problem. Itís like this Ė

Now Hillydill, before you go on thereís something I gotta tell you. I know youíre in debt. I know you canít pay your bills. I know youíve dug yourself in a big old financial hole to the tune of twenty million smackers. And Iíd love to help. You know Iíd rather run against you than that uppity tyro on training wheels, that golden-voiced slender hunk of political dynamite, that smooth-tongued well-dressed dancing fool, that good looking basketball playingÖ where was I? Oh yeah. Money. Look, twenty mill, thatís more than three whole years of Cindyís income. Thatís almost what we spend every hour on the hour in Iran. I mean Iranq. Whatever. But I havenít got the dough. I canít even sell out the Phoenix convention center, my own hometown, for a fundraiser with that prick George.

John, itís not Ė

Now, now, take a Hillchill. Hereís what I can do. I got good lobbyist friends, oil and foreign tyrants and drug kinda guys. They can whistle up that kind of money toot sweet. One little problem: theyíll have your balls in a wringer for the rest of your life. But hey, thatís a small price to pay for being debt free Ė look where itís gotten me. And you, you donít even have balls. Do you?

John, I really appreciate that. But moneyís not my problem. Well it is, but not my real problem. See, I really, really thought Iíd get the nomination. And now Iím not. It was taken from me by Osama. Obama. That non-white person you were talking about. I really really wanted the nomination, and when I didnít get it I wanted veep. You know? Thatís the least they could have done for me. Christ, veep. Like that little shit Al Gore. But Iíd have swallowed my pride and taken it. And smiled. And plotted like hell to move up to numero uno in good time. Now theyíre not going to offer me even that. Theyíre pretending to be angry over an innocent little remark I made about the fragility of political life. You know? Damn it John, theyíre trying to deny me my patrimony. Er, matrimony. My rightful due.

Gee Iím sorry Hill. I did read about what you said. Just straight talk so farís Iím concerned. But nobody respects straight talk any more. Itís like my health plan: just say no to illness. Or my housing plan: just say no to foreclosure. Or my foreign policy: just say no to peace. Straight talk, straight as a Reno craps table in an earthquake. But I donít get any respect. What were you saying?

Veep, John. You need one. I want one. I know lots more dirty jokes than that sanctimonious putz Lieberman. Mittens Romney doesnít drink coffee, much less boiler-makers. How much fun could you have with those two? Iíd be perfect on your ticket. Youíd get hard working white Democrats. Weíd clean up with old folks, NASCAR dads, soccer moms, the female vote, latinos Ė weíd get everybody except blacks. And since when do they matter? Weíd be unbeatable. What do you say?

Hmm. Interesting. Would I have to play golf with Bill?


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A NOTE TO READERS ***Update***
Another three week plus hiatus, from April 30th until May 23rd, again due to Yahoo Geocities dismal service.

There was nothing new at The Nossiter Net between March 3rd and April 26th, 2007, nearly eight weeks.  The reason:  tech sabotage. Yahoo Geocities, the host for this site, denied access for the entire period.  At one point, they even managed to lose all the files.  In many discussions with Yahoo staff, no clear explanation was forthcoming.  No one seemed able to fix the problem.  Ruling out the possibility of Dubbyaís revenge, I finally wrote to Mr. Terry Semel, Chairman and CEO of Yahoo! Inc and described the ordeal the page had undergone since the beginning of March.  A week later, a helpful Yahooo engineer named Jason called.  He had my letter before him.  Though he couldnít do the repairs on on the spot, he promised a fix by the next day.  That was April 26th, nearly two months after shutting me down in the first place.

The Nossiter Net apologizes, which is more than I can say for Yahoo Geocities.

                              

©Joshua C. Nossiter, 2008


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Dubbya's Diry
The Instant Poet
Last Words
McCain's Acceptance Speech
Hillary's Deception
Hillary for President
Diplomacy, McCain Style
All Lies, All the Time
Conversation With a Patriot
Iraq, 3008
A Rose By Any Name
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