The John Kerry Post of the Day

My latest discovery about my favorite cheese-eating surrendermonkey-looking Ketchup King cum Presidential candidate:

Sorry for missing yesterday -- I was still trying to recover from the shock of hearing Hillary Clinton introduce her husband (they're still married, right?) on Monday as "the last great Democratic President." I won't even quibble with the assessment (hey, Harry Truman's friends can stand up on their own), but I have only one request: can she really guarantee he'll be the final one?

Jokes aside, we've got this quick snippet from Mickey Kaus at Slate, whose blog is very funny and usually pretty good, especially for someone who leans left. Kaus notes the following conversation between a delegate and a cabbie:

Passenger: "Fleet Center, please."

Boston cab driver (an immigrant): "You like John Kerry, eh?"

Passenger: "Well, I'm a Democrat but I don't really like Kerry that much."

Cab driver: "I hear that all day. All day. 'I don't like Kerry.' Why you pick him if you don't like him?"

You know, if you substitute "Gore" for "Kerry" and whereever they held the 2000 Convention for the Fleet Center, that conversation may not have changed in the least.

Then, we have the Senator himself, as quoted and then dissected by the always brilliant Mark Steyn:

[Kerry] was in Wisconsin the other day, pretending to be a regular guy, and was asked what kind of hunting he preferred. "I'd have to say deer," said the senator. "I go out with my trusty 12-gauge double-barrel, crawl around on my stomach... That's hunting."

This caused huge hilarity among my New Hampshire neighbours. None of us has ever heard of anybody deer hunting by crawling around on his stomach, even in Massachusetts. The trick is to blend in with the woods and, given that John Kerry already looks like a forlorn tree in late fall, it's hard to see why he'd give up his natural advantage in order to hunt horizontally.

Possibly his weird Vietnam nostalgia is getting out of control. Still, if I come across a guy in the woods in deer season inching through the undergrowth with a mouthful of bear scat, at least I'll know who it is.

Conversely, if you're a 14-point buck and get shot in the toe this autumn, you'll know who to sue.

Maybe the shot deer could hire John Edwards. I'm guessing he'll be available by wintertime, and he's always willing to work for a buck.