The Kid is in. The Great Decider is out–and so are slimy campaign innuendos. I’ll not be sorry to hear the last of the slander of the good Maverick family name. I’ll not be sorry to have less of cowboy-diplomacy-this* and cowboy-foreign-policy-that drop into my inbox with such alarming regularity. And I won’t be surprised if this James Stewart-esque president-elect (see Wanted: Cowboy Presidents) learns to appropriate a little more of the cowboy attitude to lead this nation. So I have a few cowboy wishes for him.
May his hat always be wide enough.
May he never step in horseshit.
May his belt buckle never get bigger than his head.
May his boots never pinch.
May he never say the word “maverick.”
May he never have to pull the six-gun from the holster.
May the horse he rode in on be a sturdy mount for the next four years.