Small morsels please. Xkwannukah is a wonderful time of year. All the wading birds have migrated to the cypress swamps which I lovingly (if such emotion can be credited to one of my species) call home. Thus, holiday feasting becomes a reality, thanks to an innate wanderlust for southern migration imprinted in their bird brains. For this I would give thanks to the Almighty Being, if I could but know which one(s) it / they is / are.

On the subject of reflections, we know that dogs and Democrats often bark at their own reflections. In the canine world, this behavior is accepted and even a topic of humor. In the political world, barking at one's reflection is considered to be projection.

Human calculus 101: the amount of need in the world is overbalanced by the greed of the few. The scale shall never be righted as long as the lever arms are at the current ratio (with credit to Archimedes). Thus the lever arm of the TPTB is 460 billion miles, whilst the lever arm of the poor masses is but one part in 100 billion compared to the other side. It doesn't require an alligator to calculate the result.

The two party system: in the swamp the system is as follows (pay attention, lest a Dem sophist tries to convince you otherwise): party one--the eater; party two--the eaten. I have enjoyed many fine repasts in such relations with fellow beings. Due to haste however, my conversations with members of Party Two have been too brief to, shall we say, flesh out their ideas. Yet, such occasions are strangely satisfying to my hypothalamus and other parts.

Freedom of the press, or nowadays, since Herr Gutenberg is currently and permanently mortuis, conversation in spaced electrons and verbal mutterings suffices to serve that purpose. (Please note, gentles, that I refrained from making the painfully obvious pun with which you know I would have afflicted you were it not for the season).

Since then the erstwhile, ersatz "press" has become nothing but a bunch of squalling wolves hollering their plaint, assaulting the ears of anyone unfortunate enough to listen.

The Age of Dinosaurs

Geologists have, for decades, misled you, dear readers, into thinking that the age of the Dinosaur is dead. Not so! I protest strongly (strong, weak, it's all the same to me--ya better run fast when you see me smile). Dinosaurs still roam special preserves scattered throughout the world. The largest and indubitably most opportune showcase is Washington's District of Corruption. In that protected enclave, one may see some, if not all, of the following creatures:

1. An Orange Cheeto with long, blonde fur growing atop an enlarged pate. This creature is noted for many things but the most important is that he still survives.

2. An elderly female type, suffering from chronic Botox poisoning, which has affected her speech but not her upper limbs, which now substitute for meaningful discourse.

3. A proptotic prevaricator (look that one up, those unschooled in medicalese) who repetitively issues shrill calls of alarm. These sound much like "The Russians are coming". Lately perhaps with advancing age, the shrill has mutated into "the Ukrainians are coming for their guns!"

4. A strange, melancholy, slow moving creature, quietly grazing on the rich foliage of WDC, coming in rectangular sheets of green paper: Stentosaurus Hoeyerensis.

5. A bleach blond snake-bearing sorceress whose very look turns men (and women) into corpses. The rumors about the extinction of this creature are utterly false. It is well known that Rodents outlive civilization, and this one is no exception--except for the fact that H. Rodent participates in the destruction of civilization (the more to feast on).

6. A friendly appearing white-haired sort whose speech has gradually been reduced to mumbles. Two of the vocalizations recorded include "you know me--but where am I?" and "Burisma is purisma" (Groan--yes, I did it and I am proud).

7. A fence-hopping plutocrat who makes bets on money and detests beverages with high sugar content. This creature may be suffering late-stage mania as it has been reported to be squandering immense sums of ill-gotten gain to convince people that he will never convince anyway.

8. A displaced wild white-maned horse, tamed to bear the saddle of those who actively detest him--and to do so without complaint.

On conjugality: being the very wise fellow that he is, Bubba has never had sexual relations with THAT woman, meaning H. Rodent C. Witness the unfortunate suicide of Vince Foster, former intimate of Mrs. Bubba, who committed the act with two well-placed shots to the posterior of his cranium. When asked why this was considered suicide, the not-intimidated Coroner stated that Mr. Fostewr was both ambidextrous and double-jointed, thus permitting such a dual application of deadly force.

Now the reflections must end because the swamp water is being muddled by fruit--peaches I think. Wherefore say I that? ImPEACHment 1.0 has died in the orchard. Do not lose hope, because a new batch of imPEACHment is coming soon.

Quiz: Why do alligators frequent golf courses?

Answer: they are fond of dog legs.

I sincerely hope that you have expanded your thinking by consulting my reflections. Copies of this and a collection of other Reflections are available at Alligator University Press for paltry sums, dependent upon your ability to be contribute to promotion of my Reptilian Responsibility.Org. This is affiliated with the non-profit Open Mouth Society.

Please, donate to our bird sanctuary as you see fit.