Last night I dreamed that I joined the Republican party…

The thing about that party is that it isn’t really much of a party at all. I didn’t really fit in. The music was lame. And the snacks were all those things that rich people have convinced themselves that they like to eat mostly just because they know poor people can’t afford to so it makes them feel special. Let me give you a hint. Bird’s nest soup… I don’t care how much it costs… it is just bird nests soaked in hot water and a few herbs and spices. And you know what those birds make those nests out of? Saliva and regurgitated food… Yum.

The party just kept getting weirder…

I never found anyone interesting to talk to. There was a lot of rushing around to gobble up anything at all before anyone else could have a chance to get any. They all just seemed to be waiting around for someone to tell them what to do… And then the big rooster showed up…

His name was Mitt, and let me tell you, you do not want to get between him and the birdseed.