R.I.P., S.O.B. by John Lang

Teddy, the contrary old sonofabitch who ran for President of the United States in 2016 but never got traction due to the sloth of his handlers, is dead at last.

He was, by certain reckonings, 119.

Deaf, blind, almost toothless, arthritic, discombobulated by dogzheimers, Teddy passed away at the home of his former campaign manager, where he had peed and pooped in the dining room every night in recent years, without shame or even recognition.

Teddy

Admirers (and they were few) gathered to share stories of Teddy’s failed bid for the White House and to consider how different politics would be today if he had won.

Consider the zillions that special interests could have saved buying presidential favors in recent years if there had been a Teddy Administration. His campaign slogan was, truthfully: “He Does It For A Cookie.”

Also, Teddy seldom snapped at women and bit only one of them. That single incident was accepted by his supporters as a youthful indiscretion. Besides, the scar is small.

Teddy never pissed all over his opponents, only house plants and then pee-pads during his later years when having slept all day he stayed up nights, pacing, nails clicking maddeningly on the bamboo floors, the little shit, no doubt pondering the many things gone wrong with his world since he lost the election: the frightful squirrels, rain on his back, Fucking Cats!, the brown-shirt bastards who sneak up and place packages at the door.

To his credit Teddy had no interest in tweeting, rallies, watching Fox TV, or humping legs of strange females. He never once grabbed a pussy and, in fact, was regularly chased, swatted and thoroughly intimidated by the very hairy one that shared his accommodations.

However, it must be admitted, his behavior was, as is the norm in public life, entirely transactional. But he was never easily led; he had a mind of his own, about the size of a peanut
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Even so, Teddy always kept his silly thoughts to himself, seldom whined about anything, except breakfast and dinner, and never ever yapped on and on and on and on and on and on; and, blessedly, he leaves no spoiled daughters and stupid sons behind him.

If he wasn’t always a good dog, he rarely was a bad dog, unless you tried to move him.

His associates were in general agreement that Teddy surely will be missed, by some more than others. What’s certain is that there will never again in the history of this great nation be another one like Teddy, not if his former campaign manager has anything to say about it.

But. Damn.

John Lang has been a frequent contributor to the Chestertown Spy since 2009.