After losing whatever semblance of a sane mind still remained in the ol’ tank, due to a powerful combination of both the scorching desert heat and a horseback riding nutjob gunning for the old man’s senate seat, John McCain suddenly realized there’s really nowhere farther to fall once you’ve reached rock bottom.
Which can be so freeing! Because now old man McCain can do whatever his li’l cold heart desires, without having to worry about silly things like consequences. A win-win situation for everyone! Err, except those damn Mexicans, but who really cares about them anyway?
Certainly not Johnny! Or at least not since 2008, when he traded his soul for something much better than any dumb, gross immigrant–the chance to lose the White House with a sexy moose huntin’ mama from Alaska, whose killer ability to wink makes up for her killer inability to speak coherent sentences on, umm, anything (‘cept killin’ moose of course!).
So now that Johnny’s free as a bird from any and all expectations of possessing even the slightest bit of morals or integrity, the original maverick-turned-running joke can flip-flip like a hooked fish, senile old man, the devil himself, or whatever it takes to win, baby win!
Even star in his own, god-awful, desperate campaign ad titled, “Complete The Danged Fence,” where he pretends to be a nice, sane old man having a normal, everyday “conversation” with a sheriff, while casually strolling through the desert, about what the hell to do with those darn border-hoppers infesting the once proud, once beautiful, once-white desert of Arizona.
That way, he can prove to the concerned white pointed hat and matching robe wearing citizens back home that he is not in any way, shape, or form some arugula-eating, Mexican-lovin’ softy who wants to create a pathway to citizenship for even a single one of the no-good stinkin’ Mexican jumping beans hoppin’ every which way, ’til every last one of ’em ends up rapin’ and killin’ in the white man’s state of Aryanzona.
Instead, he gets to wear an awesome NAVY hat (to show the world he means business and maybe remind the folks ’bout those few years spent in a Vietnamese prison, for freedom!), while having a hairless sheriff (so you know you can trust him) pretend his plan to “complete the danged fence” is the most brilliant solution to immigration since the Final Solution figured out how to finally rid Europe of those pesky Jews.
Then, to really seal the deal, Mr. Clean, the sheriff, can look you, John S. McCain, straight in the eye and proudly declare, “Senator, you’re one of us.”
And you can die happy and fulfilled, knowing that you too are a paranoid, racist old coot with no backbone, and even less principles.
In other words, the esteemed living fossil and still-proud GOP senator from the newly-gated, parched desert retirement community known as Arizona.
But you can just call it by its new name, Guantánamo.
Más o menos.