The Politics of the Possum

Of all the creatures which live in the wilds of the South, it could be concluded that the possum is the most suited for the modern state of big time American politics.  The possum is a fine and well adapted creature.  He's a passive type primarily but will aggressively bare his teeth when he sees it fitting to do so.  When he does bare that toothy possum grin, he hopes you'll think that he'll back it up but he knows deep down he won't and can't if it comes down to it.  He's a creature which abides amidst the strife and conflict which continually surrounds him and it is there where he thrives.  But the possum doesn't involve himself unless he sees there to be an opportunity.  What the possum mainly does is watch and wait.  His hearing ain't good, his vision is worse and if something with swift and nimble feet gives chase to him on the forest floor, he will lose the race every time.  But still, he watches from on high from dawn until dusk as the sunshine washes across the forest floor.  From his perch, he surveys what goes on below while remaining vigilant about what goes on above for that is the realm in which the hawks and eagles fly and they have the wherewithal to snatch him out of his vantage point.  

The possum, he is an omnivore, which in Southern parlance means that he ain't picky... he'll take a little bit of whatever will get him by whether it be out of the garden or out of the henhouse.  The possum is an opportunist you might say.  Where he makes his living for the most part is after the sun sets and darkness falls.  It is then that he scales down the length of the trunk of his home tree and feasts himself on the bounty of the forest below as if it belonged to just him. 

He is somewhat awkward as he shuffles through the darkness but still very effective at his trade.  The possum is a survivor.  There's things in the darkness that will get after him like the devil himself and they will eat him whole if he's not slick enough to avoid them.  But usually, he is. In the river, there are alligators hoping he will get a little closer to the bank in the pitch black darkness so they might snatch him.  Bobcats watch his clumsy trek through the forest and hope he will meander just a little bit closer so that they can pounce. Owls watch him as he pokes along hoping the sound of his feet shuffling in the leaves will cover the sound of their wings cutting the air as they swoop down to grab him.  Coyote packs trail him hoping that they can bite his bottom legs and rip him apart before he climbs up the trunk of a tree to wait out the night and the dangers below.

One day, they'll get the old possum even though he played the game better than most ever will.  It's inevitable.  He will instinctively bare his teeth as the hounds close in but his fate is sealed. In the end, he will have done little more than to feign aggression while living high off the fat of the land without ever really contributing much to the greater good. And that is the story of how the possum became the President. 

This message was paid for by the Possum SuperPAC in partnership with Brer' Rabbit Holdings LTD. which is a division of Briar Patch Worldwide, LLC.