Seismometers across the continental plate reverberated as previously-thought-to-be-extinct Onepercentasaur Brontosaurus romneii emerged from one of his well-appointed caves to grace the world with his witless utterances. With the onset of the paleosequester, this unwelcome political behemoth felt it necessary to return to the miasmic swamps of political life to point out that, had he eluded electoral extinction, Things Would Be So Much Better. This insipid viewpoint was amplified by B. romneii’s mate, Dressageasaurus cruella, whose vocalization – like nails on a Cretaceous chalkboard – continue to jangle the nerves of all organisms in the drainage basin.
“If only”, they sigh, in carefully rehearsed unison, “we had been the chosen ones. All of this awfulness could have been avoided.” Indeed. Awfulness of an altogether different sort would have pervaded the land, or at least 47 percent of the land. Latinosaurs would be stampeding in throes of self-deportation. Venturecapitasaurs would be driving workers into the streets while expanding their vast offshore caverns to accomodate still more wealth. The cries of the unemployed, the impoverished, the elderly, and the ill would reverberate across the land. All the while, B. romneii’s dynastic wealth would grow to proportions that would cause serious global tectonic disruption.
When last we heard from these two, they were licking their wounds after the painful realization that all their grand evening of fireworks and victory toasts had come crashing down around them. Indeed, the only joy of that dark night came from the immediate termination of employment of B. romneii’s campaign staff, and the concurrent cancellation of their credit cards, stranding them far from home. Yes, good times, but alas, over all too soon.
As fellow GOPasaurs engaged in the gnashing of teeth, self-loathing, and blamestorming that has become their hallmark, B. romneii and D. cruella slunk away in the night, never to be heard from again, until now, when their vocalizations have resumed, fueled by a heady mixture of righteous indignation and denial. Follow along below the coprolite horizon for The Rest of the Story…
Ignoring the painful evidence writ large in the fossil record, these two craven creatures have launched a paleo-public-relations campaign to bring Great and Undeniable Truths to the American people. First among these, that Obamasaurus Rex only achieved World Domination because of his gifts. Not, as we might have surmised, his gifts of rhetoric, leadership, compassion, or vision. No, these were gifts of Obamacare, built on the successful program foisted upon the world by this selfsame B. romneii. While it would be millions of years before civilization recogized and appreciated irony, when the time came, this would be held up as Exhibit A.
One might wonder how a creature of B. romneii’s epic wealth couldn’t have offered some “gifts” of his own as enticement to the votersaurs. Some nice campaign bling, perhaps some finger sandwiches with Grey Poupon, dressage lessons, something… anything. His advisors had assured him that victory was inevitable, just as the White Eohippus Prophecy had foretold. The only remaining element of mystery was the size of the margin of victory (and the associated magnitude of the celebrations: hours? days? weeks? months? Who could tell?).
The precipitous fall from Chosen One to Forgotten Fossil must have come as a shock to B. romneii and the seething D. cruella. How dare these little people not have elected us?, they must have wondered. In what world would that Socialist Kenyan dark-skinned interloper have won a second term, while people of our wealth and breeding were left standing at the curb as the Carriage of Life splashed them with Reality? Well, a few months of that sort of thinking becomes really old (old enough to warrant potassium-argon dating), so they’ve dusted themselves off and hit the road to set the story straight.
The votersaurs, it turns out, never had the chance to get to know B. romneii. Sure, he might have seemed cold-blooded, thinking nothing of shuttering a plant, throwing the workers into a spiral of joblessness, foreclosure, illness, and premature death, but he’s actually a Wild and Crazy Guy. Better than that, he has All The Answers, answers that could have saved us from the rampaging Sequestersaurs. But no… the media kept us all from the truth.
Since the dawn of time, some creatures have managed to elude their well-deserved extinction, instead continuing to plague other lifeforms and generally screw with the natural order of things. Mother Nature does not like that sort of thing one bit. When the end comes for these evolutionary outliers, it comes swiftly, and in ways that bring waves of schadenfreude to their long-suffering contemporaries. In the interim, however, we can expect continued vocalizations from B. romneii and his mate as they roam the land, lamenting their circumstances. Sympathy, however, will not be forthcoming in a world that has evolved.