Shrill, baby, shrill.

Have you guys seen this thing that keeps washing up on beaches on the East Coast? There has been a lot of speculation about its origin, but given the location and the timing, I think it’s pretty plain what this bloated white thing is.

It’s the remains of the Republican Party. And frankly, it’s a lot more attractive than I expected it to be.

Poor Republican Party. Recently, they tried to equate Obama’s preference for fancy mustard to anti-Americanism, or socialism, or being just generally all Frenchified, like that America-hating Vietnam War veteran John Kerry, who must have breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was, after all, primarily funded by mustard’s more patriotic rival, ketchup. Nevertheless, Dijongate was mocked by the liberal main-stream media and most people with IQs over forty, worldwide. Too bad, because I heard that Republicans had planned on a second wave of media blitzing, during which they would point out that Martin Luther King Jr. himself endorsed their character-assessment methodology…and then someone in the party actually read the speech and figured out that King was referring to the “content” of people’s characters, not the “condiment.”

Then they tried to slam Obama by saying that he laughed at some jokes that were made by – get this – a comedian! Yes! Outrageous! A comedian, making jokes at a comedy dinner that did not take place at the White House and was not organized by the president’s staff or anything, but still, he was there, laughing at comedy jokes made at the expense of a person who has done nothing to him - except mock him and his supporters rather viciously, and say that he would like for all of Obama’s efforts to save our economy and keep our citizens safe to fail - that’s all! And for that this person was mocked! By a comedian! In front of a comedy audience!

So, yeah, Sykesgate doesn’t appear to have legs, either.

Alas, what’s a poor Republican Party to do? They already tried, you, know, listening to people. That did not turn out so good, mostly because one of the guys doing the listening tried to point out that their current re-election strategy of nostalgia for a dead guy who left office twenty years ago was not exactly a working political platform. Especially since no one could really say why they think the dude was any good in the first place (hint: he wasn’t). And then remember that guy who got made fun of by the comedian? He said that listening is for losers, and everyone in the party was forced to say “sir, yes sir!” and scrub out his private jet with their toothbrushes or something.

So I guess it’s no wonder that no one wants to admit that they know them. And hopefully soon, everyone will fully wake up from their idiocy-induced comas and realize that the Republicans fell for one of the most badly executed bits of redirection, from one of the most amateur and transparent political magicians, ever, and allowed him to dupe this country into a death-steeped quagmire so big that when you look up “quagmire” in the dictionary, it says “How about Iraq, ya fucking idiot?”

Meanwhile, Cheney continues on his Chicken Little press junket, and glass teat boobs like Scarborough grab onto his tailfeathers, claiming that the second after Justice Roberts fumbled the last word of Obama’s oath of office, we became “less safe.” Well, claiming we are less safe is like voting against the stimulus package: it has no down side. It will never be proven to be wrong unless the worst happens, and then it will become the base from which to launch a campaign of faux-patriotic crimes against the future of humanity so big, it will make the aftermath of 9/11 seem like Hug an Arab Day at the U.N.

Perhaps someday the Republicans will collectively heave themselves, like Senator Specter has, off of their runaway train of irrelevance, get up, dust themselves off, and fashion a message that makes sense for this country. After all, there will always be those who are willing to shortchange the poor and working class in order to line their own pockets. But until they do, I have to admit that I’m all too willing to watch them hurtling towards extinction.

In fact, if I could cut their brake line, I would.