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scott m's avatar

I presume the following tale to be true:

As the North Vietnamese army continued to win the war against America, LBJ, the master politician, held a sort of conference with his toadies, in the Oval Office. Johnson was feared by lesser politicians who knew that opposing him would bring on a little episode of “buttonholing.” That is when the Texan, who was physically a big man, would approach an offender, getting up close and personal, and grasping the person’s lapel, pulling him ever more near to his baleful countenance. Few could resist the intimidation. LBJ was just that kind of “good ‘ol boy.”

So one day he was conferring with other war mongers in his little circle of fiends. (I said fiends, not friends . . . ) Everyone knew the war was hopeless; but hopelessness is not allowed in the uber-macho world of the power-addicted. (In that special realm, the women are even more scary . . .)

What did the president plan to do about Ho Chi Minh? He planned to defeat him, he said. “How can we expect to win?” the acolytes begged to know.

“Uh-murca will win,” the big man drawled, “because Ho Chi Minh ain’t got THIS.” Johnson (irony alert) was known to possess an unusually large johnson, and at that instant he had it in his hand, and was proudly displaying it to the other men in the room.

And there you have it, in a nutshell, so to speak. That’s what it all boils down to, brothers and sisters. It’s never about the fictions of truth and justice. No, sadly, the quest for power will invariably come down to the size of a man’s (or woman’s) dick. Isn’t that refreshing?

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