Cold Wet Gnosis

If James Comey, the recently fired FBI Director, doesn’t have a dog, he should adopt one.  There’s a well-known trope of undetermined origin that states, “If you want a friend in Washington, get a dog!”  While Comey is, by all accounts, a stand-up guy who continues to be liked and respected within the Bureau, he was friendless in the political community.  Republicans didn’t trust him because Barack Obama appointed him and Democrats were seething over a gratuitous rebuke on his part that may have cost them the White House.  Donald Trump doesn’t like him because he was being investigated by Comey and Trump desperately wants the investigation to end.  When that many knives are unsheathed, the chances for survival are pretty much zero.  Comey is now a private citizen.  A dog would not care.  A dog would be loyal, would love him unconditionally, would jump and wag enthusiastically when he saw him, would gaze at him adoringly and carefully sniff him up and down — a dog’s way of asking:  “How was your day?”

Donald Trump doesn’t own a dog.  He has people for that.


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