Jingo

There is a great little children’s song. I think is goes something like, “B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, Bingo is his name.” It repeats ad nauseum and is a real thriller if you are three years old. I had it ringing in my head as my children transited their early years.

The ditty popped back into my head, as one of those proverbial earworms when I listened to the Republican candidates for President trot out their manly testicles during the debate in South Carolina last night. Only, the word wasn’t Bingo, it was Jingo.

“J-I-N-G-O, J-I-N-G-O, Jingo is his name.” I don’t recall ever hearing such a parade of jingoistic sentiments as gushed forth from the Republican candidates last night. They were all questioned about the Iranian speedboats (they looked like Miami Vice cigarette boats to me) and the purported threat to American warships in the Straits of Hormuz.

Huck-a-Buck, said, "Be prepared, first, to put your sights on the American vessel. And then be prepared that the next thing you see will be the gates of Hell, because that is exactly what you will see after that."

Thompson (Is he still in the race? Is he awake? My gawd, he only got 1% of the vote in New Hampshire) stated, "I think one more step and they would have been introduced to those virgins that they're looking forward to seeing." Fred, that would be Heaven. Hello, Fred!

Rudy (9/11 Tourettes) Giuliani asserted, "I think (9/11) an incident like this reminds us (9/11) that we shouldn't be lulled into some false sense of confidence (9/11) about Iran."

“J-I-N-G-O, J-I-N-G-O, Jingo is his name.” Lets go get’em. Lets blow those ragheads back to the stone age. Bring ‘em on.