The Ryan-Trump peace pact, translated

It’s fun to de-code political hooey. Let’s boldface a few excerpts from yesterday’s Ryan-Trump kumbaya statement. Then let’s inject Paul Ryan with truth serum and turn him loose:

“…we had a great conversation this morning.”

As if. I still can’t believe I had to meet with this monomaniac. I have three young kids. At school they’ve surely heard about the repulsive stuff he spews. I want to be a good role model, but when I finally do cave to Trump, how am I supposed to explain it to them? Or to myself, assuming that I still have an ounce of self-respect? Let’s face it, this is gonna be the worst partnership since Cruz and Kasich. It’ll be like stitching the front end of an orangutan to the back end of a greyhound.

“… it’s critical that Republicans unite around our shared principles …”

Yeah, sure. I can’t unite with that guy around shared principles, because he doesn’t have any. I get whiplash just listening to him. Everything he tells us has the life span of fruit fly. He’s had four positions on whether he’ll release his tax returns, two yesses and two nos. He used to say he didn’t want to raise the federal minimum wage, then this past Sunday he said he did, before telling a different interviewer that he didn’t. He used to talk about “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States,” but now it’s “only a suggestion.” I still can’t believe our voters were stupid and naive enough to swallow his con game, but I can’t say that out loud because I’m gonna want them in 2020.

“While we were honest about our few differences, we recognize that there are also many areas of common ground.”

We only have two things in common: We breathe oxygen, and we walk vertically — although sometimes he drags his knuckles. But I gotta be honest here. If I believed in lying on a daily basis, then we’d have common ground. If I believed in calling women pigs, then we’d have common ground. If I believed in scamming students out of their money by concocting a fake university, then we’d have common ground. If I believed in retweeting white supremacists, then we’d have common ground. If I believed in forcing grandmas and family restaurants off their properties so there’d be more room for limos, then we’d have common ground. Seriously, have I worked in government this long, and worked so hard to give conservatives at least some kind of meaningful agenda, only to find myself stuck with a policy ignoramus? I keep dreaming that John Boehner is smoking a cig and laughing his ass off.

“This was our first meeting, but it was a very positive step toward unification.”

More meetings? Just kill me now. I have no interest in joining Palin and Newt and Quayle and the other retreads who have embraced this Beelzebub. Maybe, on the morning of our next scheduled meeting, I’ll call my dentist and plead for an emergency root canal. Anything to keep stringing him along. Anything to give my House troops some political cover. Although I know I gotta surrender at some point, because after all, he won the race and I sat it out. He sold the voters on stupid magic fantasies of having it all; I probably would’ve depressed them with my belt-tightening and entitlement cuts. So I just need to find a way to say yes without losing my soul. And if I take too long, I know he’s gonna come after me. Or worse yet, that butler of his will come after me. I suppose they’ll give me a hashtag. Pitiful Paul. Appalling Paul. Saving Lyin’ Ryan …

“… we are totally committed to working together.”

Yeah, right. Peace in our time. Isn’t that what Neville Chamberlain said?

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