You can almost see the tumbleweeds tripping across the set and hear the silence interrupted only by the lonesome wail of a parched desert wind as saloon doors swing listlessly. Soon the jingle of spurs will herald the gathering of political desperadoes, lawmen and cowboys come to settle the question of who runs Washington: the rebels or the establishment…
In a back room at the saloon, Karl Rove plays with his chips, tries to sneak a peek at his opponents cards and fingers the ace he has hidden up his sleeve, a new, Supreme Court-sanctioned, unaccountable, moneyed interest political vehicle: “American Crossroads.”
While frightened townsfolk hurry their children away from the center of town and the crossfire and stray bullets of the midterm primaries, Carl rove is focused on his poker game. He knows that real battle is happening away from the dusty main street where political careers are gunned down in broad daylight, it is right there at the gaming table where the money is won or lost. The money to pay the hired guns and then buy them a round of whiskey’s to salute the fallen. Michael Steele, good riddance, he will say to himself.
In a room upstairs Anthony Weiner, cocky, battle-tested gunslinger, leans back in his bed, and admires the beauty of his favorite saloon gal, Huma Abedin. Dang it! He’s gonna make an honest woman out of that gal this summer, he just can’t say when.
He looks at his six guns sitting on the bedside table and considers going down to the street to shoot ‘em up some, but thinks better of it, he’ll take a few pot shots from his room’s window, defending the supreme court nominee in a desultory fashion on the Don Imus show, no real fire works. What happens in this town doesn’t matter that much any more, he’s already made his decision to take his famous fast draw and sharp aim to another lawless town: New York City, where a man like him can rise to top of the heap.
Meanwhile down stairs Carl Rove raises his whisky (actually iced tea in a whiskey glass) to his fellow players and then orders another round for the table. The game is going well and he’ll have plenty o’ money for the sharp shooters he has placed on rooftops and inside garbage cans with a strategic view of the street. When they collect their pay, for sniper work against the tea party rebels who have been hassling his establishment friends, they’ll know which side their bread is buttered on. And they’ll remember that when the big battle shapes up in the general election.
From his window above the saloon Anthony Weiner, can see a sharp shooter on the roof across the way getting ready to pick off targets in the street below. He looks at his woman and sighs… he’s gonna miss this town.