The elephant extends his trunk and holds the ball on end, ready to be kicked through the goalpost.
The donkey, five strides behind the football, is skeptical.
(Joe Manchin, waving pom-poms and running along the sideline, leaps and cheers.)
Elephant: Come on, kick it through those goal posts!
Donkey: That’s what you said before. And then you pulled the ball away at the last moment, and I fell on my ass.
Elephant: That was then, this is now.
Donkey: And the time before that, same thing.
Elephant: Let’s not dwell on the past. I am here on behalf of responsible moderates in the Senate who want to put some points on the board.
Donkey: I’d rather score a touchdown.
Elephant: Wouldn’t we all! But let’s be realistic: three points is better than nothing.
The donkey hesitates. The clock is ticking.
Donkey: No funny business this time. Do I have your word?
Elephant: You have my solemn word of honor.
Donkey: All right, then. Here we go.
The donkey runs and takes a mighty kick at the ball, which the elephant whisks out of reach at the last moment as the donkey’s kicking foot, finding nothing but air, arcs high above his head. The donkey flips backwards, remains horizontal for a split second, and then crashes heavily to earth on his back.
And what do we get from all this?