One of my loyal readers and a person of some political gravitas in his community says he has had a gullet full of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton.
He thinks having to choose between a trash-talking billionaire who can’t even unite his own party or a woman who only lies when her lips are moving to be the next president of the United States is no choice at all.
He wrote to tell me he has decided a pet rock would be a better choice for president. I must admit that I had not thought of that.
Of course, I immediately called Junior E. Lee, general manager of the Yarbrough Worldwide Media and Pest Control Company, located in Greater Garfield, Georgia, and a pest control professional, to see what he thought of a pet rock as president.
Junior said he would have to call me back, that he was currently rummaging around in Aunt Flossy Felmer’s drawers, looking for trombiculidae. I believe that is fancy pest control talk for chiggers. (Is it just me, or does it seem like Junior spends a lot of time in Aunt Flossy’s drawers? I must make a note and follow up on that.)
Junior did call back later and tell me that after due consideration he thinks the idea had merit and wondered why somebody in the media had not already thought of it.
I said that was because the nobody pays any attention to what the media think about anything, including pet rocks.
Junior E. Lee thinks a pet rock would be an interesting alternative to the upcoming contest between Mr. Blather and Ms. Pinocchio. I asked him if he had done any research on the subject or was this just his opinion. Sometimes, Junior will inhale copious amounts of diazinon while dipping sheep at Arvel Ridley’s place and come up with some really weird stuff.
Not this time. He was actually making a lot of sense.
He said, in his expert opinion, most Americans would no doubt prefer a pet rock to the current candidates as president of the United States for a number of reasons. I asked him if he would be willing to share some of his thinking with you.
For one thing, Junior says, pet rocks would not insult our intelligence by making campaign promises we know they don’t intend to keep when they get in office. That means no television ads, no pandering to special interest groups and no robocalls while we are trying to eat supper. That’s worth a few million votes right there.
Pet rocks don’t take campaign donations and, thus, are not beholding to big-shot contributors who otherwise are nincompoops and who want to be appointed ambassadors to foreign countries they couldn’t find on a Rand McNally map if you gave them a magnifying glass.
Pet rocks also don’t set up fishy foundations so these same nincompoops can get special access through the back door and try to become secretary of something or other in the new administration.
Pet rocks don’t need Air Force One because pet rocks don’t like to fly. Therefore, you won’t see a pet rock eating up taxpayer money going to some exclusive vacation resort just so they can play golf. Pet rocks don’t play golf, either.
Junior is convinced that a pet rock president would worry more about combating terrorism both here and abroad and less about the 0.3 percent of the public who want to go potty in whichever bathroom suits their fancy. He believes this would make the other 99.7 of us feel better in more ways than one.
Junior says he has more reasons why he thinks pet rocks would make good presidents and will be happy to share them later, but right now he says Aunt Flossy Felmer claims she has found some more chiggers in her drawers and wants him to come see. He didn’t sound displeased.
Before we hung up, I told Junior that he had certainly given us all some food for thought, but as for myself, I was not yet convinced that a pet rock could be president of the United States.
To me, it looks like a very hard job that not just anybody could do. Junior said Jimmy Carter did it, so how hard could it be? I can’t argue with that. Say what you will about Junior E. Lee, but even with a snoot full of diazinon, the boy knows his stuff.
You can reach Dick Yarbrough at firstname.lastname@example.org; at P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139; online at dickyarbrough.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/dickyarb.