Good evening, Square Peggers.
And how are you? I hope this finds you in the very best of spirits. Fine of fettle and robust of mettle.
Yes, I am positively overflowing with good wishes this fine eve. And it is my wish to distribute this newfound treasure—my joy—to each and every one of you!
For when joy finds us, is it not our solemn duty to break off a piece and let everyone have a sip?
Perhaps I have mixed my metaphors. But let us not allow mere semantics to stand in the way of this joyous tsunami! Tarry not! For the moment must be flavored!
The source of this great (but by no means uncharacteristic) joy is the recent announcement that Herman Cain is dismantling his campaign and will not seek the office of president.
Oh great, good fortune! To whom, to what do I owe this wondrous occurrence of divine intervention? Hallelujah! Huzzah!
Strawberry-scented hand sanitizer and Sans-A-Belt slacks for everyone!
Let us take a look back. The Hermanator once spoke thusly:
"Don’t blame Wall Street, don’t blame the big banks. If you don’t have a job and you’re not rich, blame yourself!"
La Piazza Gancio now speaks thisly:
“Don’t blame the media, don’t blame the other candidates. If you don’t have a campaign and you’re not the president, blame yourself!”
Of course, Herman has not done this. Nor is he ever likely to.
But by all means I should blame myself for the gutting of our economy by unimaginably wealthy Americans who have yet to face a single consequence for their indefensible actions.
Hypocrisy and the royal 'we' are alive and well. In fact, they have never been more alive or more well. I want to thank Herman for being the arrogant embodiment of entitlement that he is. I'll always remember him as the 'hands on' candidate.
And finally, a tip of the hat to Ms. Potts, curator of the Angry Historian, who correctly predicted on October 14th that Herman Cain wasn’t going anywhere near the presidency. She was right.