Every Crusade Needs Its Rabbit

I have every intention of watching even less of the Republican National Convention next week than I did of the Democratic National Convention earlier this week because the Beige Buffoon makes my hair hurt when I listen to him speak/think. And the prospect of enduring three days of a parade of obsequious assholes unceasingly sucking up to him might cause me terminal lower digestive tract distress.

At the time of the nation's founding, we had dozens of (white) men (only, NO women allowed) qualified to lead our nation but as the decades have rolled on a noticeable thinning of the herd seems to have happened. 

To be clear, I don't necessarily insist on someone whose going to end up on a coin or a stamp or on Mount Rushmore, especially when I'm afraid the Mango Mussolini will eventually be immortalized at Stone Mountain. 

Just a regular Joe will do it for me in November; or, as Steve Buscemi notes, Acceptable Under the Circumstances. And, no, I don't expect there will be a DJT version.
-bill kenny