https://twitter.com/ZoomerClips/status/1242690484771807232

Remember the guy in the picture heading this post? I’ve shown him to you before. Can’t see him? Well, keep looking at it. But don’t try and focus. Just gaze at it. It’ll pop out at you soon enough. Here’s a hint: He might be the real Democratic candidate for President.

No, it’s not Joe. Or Bernie. Or any of the other Seven Dwarfs. Or was it twenty-seven dwarfs? Cram it. I don’t care if you think I’m being dwarf-ist. In fact, I don’t care what anyone thinks, about anything. But I do want to be sure you have no excuse for what is coming down the tracks, full-steam ahead. Or, at least, what I would send down the tracks if I was in charge of that ship of fools known as the Democratic Party.

I used to be in politics. But it was so frustrating, being in the Republican Party (pre-Donald). You couldn’t get anyone focused on winning. Nobody would do anything even slightly offensive, to anyone. Pro-lifers wanted to be thought of as kind Christians. Main-stream stoats wanted to be found acceptable to the other side. Nobody would go for the throat. I showed people how to do it. I showed them how it worked at destroying the opposition. But I couldn’t do it without leaving some blood on the floor. Which, I thought, was a nice human touch. Added a little color. I thought women (and wimps) liked that. What did I know? My machine ruled for a while, but it was exhausting. Not battling the enemy. Battling my own troops. So, I bowed out. What’s the point of trying to make Rangers out of Cub Scouts? Especially transgendered ones.

I just got done talking to my brother, Angor, and we were ruminating over the current political landscape unfolding before us, which I said was totally un-acceptable to any true pol. After all, if you want a real fight in November, there’s nothing on the horizon that augurs that. Assuming, of course, that Donald’s divine protection continues, and the plague recedes in time for a market recovery. But because I prefer to play the Devil’s Advocate in politics, I can’t accept the notion that the Democrats will blindly march over the cliff. Surely, in my mind, they can’t follow either Joe or Bernie, as either one leads to extinction, for the party. If they do, I believe the party will literally fragment into two (or more) smaller parties, a la European-style idiocracy.

No, I believe that there are individuals in (or, actually, above) the party that are possessed (in so many ways) of a desire to win, at any cost. They must eventually settle on my friend in the picture above. Keep staring. He’s there, I assure you. I’ll tell you his name in a bit. But let’s see if you can guess it first.

Think with me here, Brutus. How do we kill Caesar? We can’t do it in the dark. The people won’t stand for that. We have to do it legit. In the light of day. By a strong man, someone who is as strong as Donald. So it will seem like a fair fight. The people can accept that. The key, of course, is to hide the identity of the assassin until the last moment. He must be a surprise. This is the party that specializes in surprise, you know.

At this point you are asking yourself, who in Hell is as strong as Donald? Someone as street-smart and cold-blooded as him? Someone who doesn’t hesitate when the time is right. Someone as quick and vicious and who wants his own place in the Pantheon.

Obviously, this person cannot be any of the idiots that the Oracles of the Airwaves have tried to sell us for the past year. None of them have a spine, let alone a cranium. Or a pair. None of them. It’s been so obvious to everyone except the party. Which is why all the Republicans have been licking their chops, regardless of the eventual menu selection. But I would caution you, as a friend of Donald, not to think that this thing has been settled. At least, not if I was in charge.

Let’s review a few relevant facts. Mayors don’t get elected President. Neither do Congressmen, or even Senators. It just doesn’t happen. Not since Kennedy, at least. And even he wouldn’t have won without Mayor Daley and his magic machine in Cook County, Chicago. Yes, I know, Obama was a Senator. But that fact was obscured by the belief that he was the reincarnation of M.L. King, in a nation eager to prove its humanistic worth. Emotions are terrible reasons for voting. Even simple greed is better than feelings.

Socialists don’t win either. At least, not openly defiant ones. And dementia patients don’t either. At least, not since Carter. Smooth talkers do. But they have to be old enough to shave. Their face, that is. No, I’m not referring to the female candidates. If there were any. And if there were, it sure went right past me, because there wasn’t a single candidate claiming that gender (except Tulsi) that struck me as one. We know what happened to Tulsi. She never figured out she could be Donald’s new VP if she had re-registered.

No, women who say it’s okay to kill children will never win America’s heart. Maybe they can get a lot of votes, but they will never be loved. Only feared. That may eventually win an election, but not in the foreseeable future.

What’s that leave in the recent Democratic field of midgets? Well, open racists, to be truthful. Black racists, that is. Of all colors and genders. But the people aren’t buying that, particularly black people. They saw how that worked out last time. Obama was nobody’s saviour. The only color most people care about today is green. And Donald is the King of Green. Bloomberg showed that. Making money and spending money are two different things. Any idiot can spend, and while Bloomberg showed he can make money, he also showed he was the typical professional athlete who spent it to get exactly nothing. And he impressed no one. Donald on the other hand, made his money and kept it.

Have I left any midgets out here? Oh wait! Policy wonks. Sure. Yang and Warren. Two morons that thought that all you had to have was ideas that filled numerous policy notebooks, showing you were smarter than everyone else. How cool. How stupid. They never understand that the winner is the one who can personally connect with the average Joe. Think Kennedy vs. Nixon. Carter vs. Ford. Reagan vs. Dukakis. In a word, can you cast an authentic smile? Can you make fun of yourself and still make people think you’re a smart guy? Without the policy papers?

Honestly, I don’t understand how so many people can make it so far in life (especially political life) without understanding Politics 101. Don’t just smile. Laugh! Exude confidence, but not arrogance. Ask the people to help you help them. Be charmy, not smarmy. Be authentic, but not perfect. I suppose if you have to tell people this, they’re not the candidate to back. That’s the problem. Too many people can get into positions of relative power without having to learn any of this. The ones who innately know this have already become successful in some other field. That leaves politics open for grifters and thugs.

Now we’re moving back to my topic for the day. The upcoming surprise candidate that will emerge from the Democratic convention. At least, if anyone on that side has half a brain. There’s no guarantee of that. Believe me, behind the curtains, there are those who desperately want to win. And who are equally intelligent enough to know that neither Joe nor Bernie can do the job. Those two aren’t sharks. Donald is.

Let’s take inventory on what you need to win. First, don’t worry about media coverage. That’s already a given. You know, a lot of people still think that the MSM is simply an appendage of the Democratic Party. And they are mistaken. It’s actually the other way around. After all, there is no rational way to explain how such a dysfunctional party could ever hold such a grip over a multitude of entities that have to perform in perfect unison every day, on cue, before a national audience. All five MSM news streams (plus WaPo, the NYT and the AP) are in perfect sync.

Yet this unity is somehow accomplished at the direction of a fragmented schizoid bunch of losers known as the Democratic Party? No, friend, it’s the other way around. The party is the puppet of the Oracles of Delphi. Want proof? Well, do you get to vote for Editor? So, you can’t vote against him either, can you? Sounds pretty invulnerable to me. Totalitarians, telling us we need democracy. And the various (24? 27? 299?) candidates they are parading before us are simply the marketing tests for determining what the eventual ‘democratic’ marketplace product will be.

Anyway, once the candidate is chosen, all the Oracles will be on the same page. What’s next? Well, if you’re going to spring this surprise at the last moment, it has to be someone with an existing brand-name. Somebody with an actual governing track record. He doesn’t have to be perfect. He has to be substantial. Somebody with experience on the national stage. Somebody who can point to a record of large-scale operations that have a semblance of success. Hopefully, in electoral politics, but hey, Donald showed us that isn’t always so. What he really showed us was that business and politics are almost the same thing. Experience is transferable. But regardless of that question of political experience, it’s gotta be somebody believable.

My whole point is that this ‘surprise’ candidacy will have to emerge right at or before the convention. A convention all are dreading, because nobody really believes Brand Joe or Brand Bernie can defeat Donald. A convention that would willingly dump both, if only the miracle-man would appear. When he does appear, there’s no time to build the persona from the ground up. No time to re-brand some re-tread. No, it’s gotta be an off-the-shelf deal. Already pre-packaged. Ready to ship.

He also must be acceptable to the rank and file. Which means, of course, someone who hasn’t offended any wing of the party, yet one who could plausibly peel off some of Donald’s coalition. Which is to say, he has to be able to win back some of the little people. Even if it is based on a distant memory of what the party is supposed to have been built upon. In other words, Labor. Not just Big Labor. But blue-collar labor as well. Little guy labor.

It also helps if Mr. Miracle Man’s a Catholic (in name only, of course). So he can play the ‘personally opposed’ card on abortion, while allowing Planned Parenthood to run wild (and send their thanks via the banks). It also helps to have a few Archbishops and Cardinals in your pocket too. Guys just like our new candidate. Where are most of these types located here in The Empire (State)? They’re a dime a dozen these days, so that’s no problem, logistically speaking.

The mystery candidate can’t be seen as being highly antagonistic to Capital either. Yes, he may seem harsh at times, but that is just a mirage. All good Democratic winners are always in bed with Wall Street. Ask Bill. Ask Obama. Ask Joe. Yes, I know, you think Joe’s never been a winner. How is it he’s survived so long in politics? And gotten so rich? He’s a winner, believe me. He just never got the brass ring.

Next, this miracle guy (and it will be a guy) has to have a machine. He must command people who can and will turn out and pull the lever, as many times as needed, until the buzzer sounds. A guy who actually has his hands on the wheel. Not some dolt who thinks that everything rides on the efforts of dedicated pious civic-minded volunteers. Let me clue you in. Volunteers are the first wave, the shock troops that are useful idiots in any war. The real troops are those who will win something more than the good feeling you get when you do a civic good deed. You need people who have a greater motivation than that. If you’re a democrat and you want to win, you need thugs.

Thugs? Yes, that’s what I said. Sure, you can call them whatever you want. Professionals, advisers, counselors, techno-crats, whatever you want to call them. But as long as you are talking about the people who will personally benefit, in a very big way, from your victory, and who are willing to do whatever it takes to win, we’re talking about thugs.

Last, but most importantly, if you’re the powers that really control things in the Democratic Party, you need a candidate who will fight to the death. Not some wimp like John Kerry. Or Richard Nixon in 1960 (he could have easily contested the Chicago results). It can’t be a Boy Scout. It’s gotta be somebody who has a Black Hand. In a mailed fist. In other words, someone who is also a thug. But the Head Thug has to be able to smile when he bites. He should smile a lot. And bite every time.

So I ask you, my friend, who have I just described? Who is this person, right under your very nose, who can step right up at a moment’s notice and stride forward into battle, with a very believable chance of winning?

Who is it that doesn’t have any of the (already exposed) baggage that the Seven Dwarfs had? Who could get Bloomberg to pump untold scads of cash into his campaign (and be rewarded later, of course)? Who is it that can also call upon the truly dark money and manpower of ‘The Family’? And the kindly nod of the Cardinals? And Big Labor? And all the identity groups that he has already mastered in his current occupation of an existing throne of great power? Well? Who is this man?

Well, I’ll tell you, friend. His name is Andrew Cuomo, the reigning Heavyweight Champion of New York. He’s the only one who could do this job. The only one who has the chops. The only one with a killer instinct. A true shark.

And behind the curtains in Oz, there are people who are begging him to do it. He can name his own price. They will gladly pay it to regain their power. If this happens, we’ll see a real shark fight in November. A fight for the ages. It won’t be pretty.

Donald, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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