Yellow Dog Democrats Continue To Play Fetch

When I was a kid I had a dog named Owasso. He was a loyal mutt who may be the only living creature to have considered me a "master." He would follow any command without hesitation, but the pooch wasn't very bright, every day reinforcing the "doh" in "dohg."

Owasso's greatest love was playing fetch . . . for hours and hours and hours . . . taking me to the brink of Tommy John surgery every summer. The only break I would get was when I feinted a throw and he would rush out into the field in search of a stick that wasn't there. And the dopey dog never learned. Every time I faked a throw he would shoot out into the grass and sniff around until I called him back.

Can you see where I'm going with this?

During the campaign Barack Obama had his loyal followers fetching the stick called hope. Now that he is president he continues making the rounds with his teleprompters as though still campaigning, and he is still throwing out hope but the stick isn't there. Instead, he is using that stick to pummel the constitution through a series of maneuvers intended to secure his own power and damage an economy that (whether you like it or not) is based on capitalistic principles.

He tosses out "HOPE" then pushes through a stimulus package loaded with 9,000 or so of the dreaded earmarks that he promised to eliminate. He tosses out "CHANGE" then gathers a group of advisers loaded with the dreaded lobbyists that he promised to banish. Then he feints, tosses out nothing and uses his stick to pound the constitution with sickening strikes to give D.C. a congressional vote, move control of the census to the White House and punish successful Americans by redistributing what they've worked hard to earn.

Some people are starting to take off their collars and see the truth, but the dogs . . . the yellow dog democrats are still playing fetch. The stock market drops every time Obama opens his mouth. A trillion dollars are about to be given out as political favors. Hard work is prepped to get a beating. But the yellow dogs are still sniffing around in the field barking, "Where's your stick, master, where's your stick?"