The Fight For Democracy. . .

The big day was almost here. The "old man" and the "next oldest man" were about to square off in the ring to see who would be our president. The "next oldest" had sharpened his moves and he knew he could whip him. The "oldest" was bobbing and weaving but his handlers thought maybe their fighter was over the hill. He was slowing down and about three steps behind the other guy.

Out of the blue, there was a "breaking news bulletin" that said there had been a change in the "Big Fight" - the "old guy" was retiring! He had put in nearly fifty years in the ring and he could go no further.

The change hit the "next older" like a punch in the gut. He was ready. He knew exactly how to fight the old guy. His quick feet, fast and lying mouth, and his flabby body could absorb the youngster's body blows. Everything was in his favor. The old guy was a "loser" and he'd go down in two minutes of the first round. But it was not to be.

Now what? Who would they bring in next? 

"What? The Vice-President? She's a she! She used to be white, but one day she became black and she's now a favorite of every damn voter - even some of my voters!"

The bell sounded the opening round and now he's the "oldest guy." He's fat, slow, dim-witted, and not known for being a pugilistic wonder of the boxing world. He had a "bone spur" for God's sake!  How was he supposed to fight someone?  The lady came out swinging like a wild, caged animal. She worked over that big, fat gut until it quivered with pain. She then went to work on his face - that big orange face! There isn't going to be enough orange make-up in the country  to fix that mess now. 

He tried to think of a way to win by lying. He thought about refusing to accept the referee's verdict. He tried to get his friends in the audience to storm the ring and threaten the referee if he didn't change his call.

No such luck. The fight was over in one three-minute round. He asked the referee to roll him out of the ring and out of the building quick! He was through. The lady put one foot on his oversized belly as he lay on his back in the middle of the ring. She raised her hands in a pose of victory and looked down on fatty. She yelled down at him, "I have a "Project 2025" of my own, fat man! I'm gonna' make sure you and your MAGA Republicans are deported to a place in Russia's Oymyakon plains where the average temperature is minus 58 degrees, which is the lowest winter temperature of any city in the world.

Before she left the ring, she said her final words to the "oldest guy, "And I was black when I was born, black yesterday, and I'm gonna' be black 'til I day!"  Just like you, fatty. You're gonna been a fat, lying, pee-poor fighter, and you'll be that until the day you die!"

The next morning, we all woke up and and drank a bowl of Tequila Sunrise!  And swore in the first African-American Lady President!

The end.