Purly's my cat. She's my loyal and true best friend.
Yesterday, she said to me, "Are ya gonna vote in 2024?"
"I'm voting for you," I said, "depending on your running mate."
"You'd be my running mate." she answered, "because you're honest.
You ain't for sale."
"Then," I said, "we're assured of two votes, yours and mine."
"Maybe so," she allowed, "but we'd be secure in the comfort that our
votes were genuinely pristine absent the taint of partisan virus. Nor would
we accept a dollar or a dime from anyone potentially solicitous of our patronage
should we be elected. No campaign contributions."
"Ya see," she exclaimed, "the money's the worst of it. Millions of dollars
to finance a quest for the presidency! There should be a huge banner strung
across the front gates at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in the District of Columbia,
proclaiming: "For Sale To The Highest Bidder."
She went on, "Campaign time should be limited to one month. Any candidate
who can't clearly define his or her position with respect to pertinent issues,
over the course of a month, doesn't deserve consideration for public office."
"Ya know," she persisted, "there was a famous character created by Walter
B. Gibson in 1931. He was known as The Shadow. The Shadow succeeded to even
greater fame through the agency of radio. Introductions to radio broadcasts
went: "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!"
"Too bad," she concluded, "the Shadow ain't still around."
