If you read my last column, after an excessive ingestion of eggnog, Jacob Marley visited me Christmas night. If you didn’t read the column, it’s on my blog or the Journal website.
Anyway, having weathered the initial meeting with Marley in a nightmare, and subsequently praying to the porcelain prince, I climbed weakly back into bed, cautiously so as not to awake the little lady…again. I dozed off to sleep, content no reunion with Marley was looming. I was mistaken.
“Hey!” Marley screamed, ratting his chains. “We weren’t done.”
I froze in horror, but to no avail – there he appeared at the foot of the bed. How was my wife sleeping through this? I wondered. Glancing over revealed she was slumbering like a baby.
“Yes, sir.” I mumbled.
“Now that you’ve done your business, let’s get back to vetting candidates so you don’t vote for that dastardly Trump,” he moaned. “Not that it might make any difference if that cantankerous Pelosi doesn’t trash that foolhardy impeachment vote. “
“Yes, sir,” I muttered again, wondering if he could follow me into the voting booth. He must have been able to read thoughts because he let loose a blood curdling scream, of which the wife slept through.
Marley groaned, “I’ve decide to throw Andrew Yang, Corey Booker and Amy Kllobachar out of contention too. They’re just three more hopeful-nothings foolishly wasting everybody’s time. Booker irritates me, darn fool was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. As you can see, time is precious, people who waste it annoy me.”
“Yes, sir,” was all I managed, terrified out of my skull at Marley’s appearance and stench. Even his breath smelled like death. I’m wondering if I should do as he says - he never explained what would happen to Trump voters. How in damnation is my wife not smelling him?
“So that leaves Buttegieg, Gabbard, and Warren,” he growled.
“This Buttigieg guy is just the flavor of the month right now,” Marley continued. “Very religious and extremely intelligent guy, I’ll give you that, and a Naval vet to boot. Those are some pretty great qualities – you’d think he’d be a Conservative. However, his youth, lack of experience, and being openly gay are eventually going to sink his boat. Having seen the future, you Baby Boomers are still not ready for an openly gay president. Besides, black folks won’t trust him for that business in South Bend. Trump will stomp him. Leave him off your list.”
There was the mention of that list again. He made me put Michael Bloomberg on it, but now he’s running out of names.
Elizabeth Warren,” Marley fumed. “Don’t call her Pocahontas again!” he commanded, pointing a decrepit finger at me. “I liked her, but darn woman got so wrapped up in chasing the Bern to the left, she ran right past him for being even more socialist. Dumb move on her part,” Marley spat. I took the opportunity to finally blink.
“Everything she’s promising would cost taxpayers $40 - $50 trillion dollars. That’s nuts. So is she, if you ask me.’ Marley was on a roll. “Anyone can see she doesn’t really mean anything she says, she’s just lying.
"Nothing worse on the planet than a conniving lying politician. She can’t beat Trump either. No listing for her,” he moaned. There was that finger again.
“OK,” I said submissively. I realized the only candidate left was Tulsi Gabbard. I pulled the bed-sheets a little tighter to my chest, not knowing what to expect. Guess who hadn’t woke up still.
“Now, the Gabbard gal,” Marley continued. “ I don’t think she seriously has a chance, but I have to tell ya, that gal has spunk. Anyone can stand up to Hillary and live to tell about it has my admiration. I happen to know a few that didn’t, if you know what I mean.”
I thought I actually saw Marley wink!
“Do you know she was a combat vet?” Marley asked, obviously impressed. “And,” he continued, “she’s a Major in the National Guard. That’s outstanding, boy.” I shook my cowardly head in agreement.
“I just don’t know what to think about her electability though,” he rambled, shaking his head. “Like Buttigieg, at 38, she’s just a pup. Plus, she’s Hindu, and, while I have no issue with most religious beliefs, I doubt America’s ready for a Hindu president. Remember the Catholic John Kennedy fiasco? I’m bettin’ their not, but you should put her on your list anyway, because that gal has spunk. Spunk, I tell ya,” as he faded off.
I shook my head feebly. When I looked up the apparition was finally gone, hopefully forever. I softly giggled, deliriously thinking my nightmare over…until the giggles woke the wife.