The candidates’ dogs compare campaign notes.

From the Desk of Bo Obama

Bo in March 2010

Greetings from Pennsylvania Avenue via canine ESP.

How perfect is life at the White House? I’ve got a loving family, Universal Pet Insurance, and a presidential lap where I can curl up any time.  The best part of any evening is when the President gathers us around the fireplace and puts me into a happy coma by reading aloud from John Maynard Keynes.

I’ve even got my own Secret Service agent.  When he bites into the g-string he brought back from Cartagena, plays tug of war with me, and calls me filthy puta, I’m in doggie heaven.

My favorite time on the Presidential campaign trail has been my proximity to campaign fundraisers.  What dog worth his dew claws wouldn’t want to drink in the scent of George Clooney?  (Single malt scotch and English Leather).

When Oprah Winfrey scooped up my eye crud, we formed a forever mucosal bond.  And, as Dog is my witness, I saw a Seal Team 6 guy let Gwyneth Paltrow chew on a hunk of what he swore was Osama Bin Laden‘s ear lobe.  Former House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi, sported the unforgettable bouquet of vaginal prolapse which she skillfully masked by spilling a carne asada taco on her lap.  I took it as a meat-filled omen that Barack Obama is a lock to be re-elected President.

From the inflamed bowels of Heaven, Yo.  Seamus Romney speaks!

Irish Setter

What’s it like on this side of the Rainbow Bridge?  As the kids like to say, things ain’t bad up in this bitch.  Ain’t no station wagons, crates, or politicians of any kind up here.

So let me address what’s on everybody’s mind:  my episode on the road with the Romneys.  Riding First-Class Crate on the roof of a station wagon from Boston to Toronto. That ain’t never gonna be my idea of fun.  But it was a whole lot rougher on the servants. They had to run alongside the car all the way to Ontario.

That little trip inspired my pet name for Mitt:  Sandusky.

Will the Romneys ever be as much fun as the Obamas?  Sure if you like being jarred awake in the middle of the night for a baptism in a Jewish cemetery.  But real fun?  Getting to fetch or play tug of war?  Never.  High times for Mitt Romney meant chasing after me and holding a dust pan under my tail while I pretended to crap in peace.

Things weren’t all bad at the Governor’s mansion.  Ann Romney once let Rafalca, her dressage horse, kick me in the head.  At least she asked.

What about Romney Care?  Lemme lay out my first-hand experience with it.   The minute the Governor’s son, Ben, graduated from medical school he got me wrecked on Cuervo jello shots and, just for laughs, took out my spleen.

Still, don’t you go selling Mitt Romney’s campaign short.  For one thing, Democrats don’t have a monopoly on celebrity endorsers.  Republican fundraising events showed off a whole lotta conservative glitz their own damn selves.  Between Ted Nugent, Jon Voigt, and Bo Derek, you’ve got some real past-your-prime beef.  They LFAO-ed at a Scottsdale fundraising party when a Secret Service dog sniffed out half an Oxy in Rush Limbaugh’s crocs.

Well, Bo, if you’re asking for my campaign prediction, I’m gonna have to burst your bubble.  Mitt Romney is gonna win the election in a walk.  If they had an American Idol style sing-off of soul classics, Mitt would claim the crown for “Deafen Me Now.”  But, the Mitt’s  got the advantage where it counts most:  in serious money.  How serious?  I saw Karl Rove‘s dog bury $3.7 million in the hillside behind the house.