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…
