The Shmoo Party

October 25, 2007

Now that Rep. Peter Stark, blubbering like a show-trial victim accused of counterrevolutionary tendencies, has retreated from his burst of truth-telling about Bush and Iraq, I wonder who will be the next Democrat to be taken into a back room and chloroformed by either Harry Reid or Nancy Pelosi, or both.

Since Chris Dodd is showing uncomfortably vertical tendencies on the question of allowing King George II to grant retroactive pardons to all the telecoms that acted as his henchmen in illegally spying on Americans, it’s pretty clear Pelosi and Reid are going to have to do something about him. Dodd, that is, not Bush. No, Pelosi and Reid wouldn’t want to do anything about Bush — heaven forfend!

This poster at Balloon Juice sums things up nicely:

Right now Democrats hate their leaders as much as Republicans do, and the reasons just aren’t that hard to figure out. They got rolled on wiretapping American citizens, they have no plan for getting ahead of the mortgage meltdown and on most days crucial committee members like Rockefeller and Feinstein act more like their craven predecessors than like Democrats. Majorities in both houses can’t bring themselves to pass any funding bill except what the president asks for in his words.

Claims that Republican minorities have some institutional trump card that keeps anything from getting done strike me as a copout – as Kevin [Drum] thoroughly documents far too many Democrats, possibly most, act petrified of their own shadow. And if Jonah Goldberg ever got anything right (experience I guess) it’s that abuse only gets worse when you telegraph that you’re scared to fight back.

As I was reading, the truth hit me like a Gideon Bible falling from a twentieth-floor hotel window. Ladies and gentlemen, I know what really happened to the Shmoon.

That’s “Shmoon” as the plural of “Shmoo,” the blobby, bowling pin-shaped creature so docile that it will help anyone who wants to cook it, created by Al Capp for his comic strip Li’l Abner. Introduced in 1948, the Shmoo strips generated a brief craze for Shmoo merchandise that made Capp a wealthy man before they went down the same pop-culture memory hole occupied by Davy Crockett coonskin caps and Super-Balls.

The Shmoo narrative — collected in these two books — ended with the creatures returning to the Valley of the Shmoon, never again to be disrupted by contact with humanity. But evidence indicates the Shmoon have once again emerged from their valley, and taken over the Democratic Party leadership.

Read this description of the Shmoon and tell me it doesn’t remind you of Harry Reid and Nancy Pelosi:

Shmoon are delicious, and are so eager to be eaten that if they are looked at by someone who is hungry they will gladly jump into a frying pan, after which they taste like chicken, or into a roasting pan, after which they taste like beef (Raw, they taste like Oysters on the Half-Shell). They also produce eggs, milk, and butter (no churning labor needed.) Their fresh pelt is a perfect boot leather, or house timber depending on how thick it has been cut. Their eyes are ideal suspender buttons, and their whiskers are perfect toothpicks. Naturally gentle, they require minimal care, and are ideal playmates for young children. In short, they are simply the perfect ideal of a subsistence agricultural herd animal.

Not to mention the perfect Republican wardrobe accessory.

I’m sure that when King George II packs up his swag and struts off to his phony ranch in Crawford, he’ll take along a few Democratic Shmoos, just in case he needs a free-range snack during those sessions of brush-clearing.

I don’t know if this would violate any ownership rights, but I think a campaign for a Shmoo-Free Democratic Party would have some serious legs, don’t you agree?


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