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"No matter how much lipstick you put on it,
this pig ain’t going to fly."
—Republican fundraiser Haley Barbour
on Al Gore’s plan for campaign finance reform

IN THE BARNYARD of a quaint little farm on the Potomac, Farmer Gore sat on the ground applying a third coat of lipstick to Bessie, his favorite pig. "Darn it," he thought as he blotted a smudge of Dusty Rose from the swine’s chin, "I am gonna git this pig airborne, I swear!"

Farmer Gore had grown up on a farm down in Tennessee. He spent nearly three weeks every summer shoveling manure, making pigs look pretty, and generally learning by doing. He reckoned he knew just about all there was to know about farming, and now it was time to prove it to the world.

Just then pesky little Haley Barbour from down the road leaned over the fence. "Farmer Gore, Farmer Gore, that pig ain’t gonna fly no-how!"

"We’ll just see about that," replied Farmer Gore. "Way I figure it, enough lipstick on her and she’s bound to at least clear yonder oak tree."

"Oh yeah, that pig’s gonna fly," smirked Haley. "When pigs fly!"

That made Farmer Gore mad. "Well, you’re just jealous because your pig has a whole tube of Magic Magenta on her snout, not to mention Pretty in Pink on her nails and $30 million in soft money from HMOs, gambling and tobacco interests, and she still hasn’t flown more than a foot," snapped Farmer Gore, hurling a handful of mud at his persecutor.

Farmer Gore turned his attention to Bessie. Maybe if I used a different palette, he thought. Yes, that must be it. She’s more of a Winter. He dug out a new shade and resumed his painting.

After a moment Farmer Gore noticed Miss Irene, the local soccer mom, watching him from her front porch.

"Howdy, Miss Irene. I’m puttin' lipstick on Bessie here in order that she’s gonna fly. It’s just one way that I’m fightin' for workin' families."

"I see that," Miss Irene replied, batting her eyes. "I do believe it’s gonna work too, Farmer Gore. I think with enough lipstick, that pig is gonna fly clear over to the ol’ McCain-Feingold place."

Farmer Gore smiled. She believed him! She believed it was going to work!

And in the end, that mattered much more than whether or not it did.

Copyright 2011 Modern Humorist, Inc.
All Rights Reserved.
Modern Humorist is not intended for readers under 18 years of age.