We were desperate. Cat Stick wasn’t talking, and Yoda Pez was exhausted after channeling the Supreme Court. (“Ohio, you must deny,” we heard him muttering.) But the latest campaign developments had left us anxious for advice, and we needed someone to consult with.

And then we remembered Fishtray.

Fishtray is an old pol with whom we’ve had our disagreements over the years. As a young idealist he managed Flipper’s first campaign (“Live in a world full of wonder!”), but in later years he hit a low behind the scenes of the ugly Shamu-Willy race. (“We haven’t seen this much chum since Jaws,” sneered the Times.)

But Fishtray knew where the scales were scraped. “I can tell you more about smoke-filled rooms than any nose-breather,” he liked to say. “We were baiting opponents long before you came on the scene.”

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Malice makes the heart grow fonder for medieval torture devices:

“I think there have been quite a few reporters recently,” said Mr. McCain’s closest adviser, Mark Salter, “who have sort of implied, or made more than implications, that somehow we’re responsible for the occasional nut who shows up and yells something about Barack Obama.”

If the occasional nut you’re talking about is Sarah Palin, then yes.

Concern in G.O.P. After Rough Week for McCain [NYT]

We were going to convene a roundtable discussion with Yoda Pez and Cat Stick on the pressing issues facing our Republic, when we realized at the last minute that Cat Stick doesn’t talk. He just stares at you with those imploring eyes, asking Why? Or Think Again. Or maybe I’m Hungry. It’s really hard to tell.

One thing’s for certain: Cat Stick has a First-Class Temperament. In the twenty-five years we’ve known him, that expression has never changed. Cat Stick doesn’t blink.

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“The New York Times obscures its true intentions — to undermine the candidacy of John McCain and boost the candidacy of Barack Obama — under the cloak of objective journalism.”
– McCain campaign, September 24,
responding to reports its campaign manager’s firm
was on the payroll of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac

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We try not to disturb Yoda Pez except in case of electoral emergency, so you can imagine he was a little upset when we asked him to remove the Q-tips from his ears for some post-debate chitchat.

“Hear you, I can’t,” he said. “Listen, I will not.”

We wanted to tell him the good news — Plugz won the debate, Barry has regained his commanding lead in the state polls — but Yoda Pez took a dive for the cotton swabs three minutes into the veepfest, and there they remain.

So we tried winking at him in that friendly way Sarah taught us Thursday night — I gotcha covered, you betcha — and that’s when he started jumping all over our keyboard like some digitally recreated freak.

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Washington. An alley. Night.

Op #1: So what do we do about it?

Op #2: About what?

Op #1: The Problem.

Op #2: What problem? It’s not my problem.

Op #1: It will be your problem if we don’t do something about it.

Op #2: Did I tell you there would be a problem?

Op #1: You did.

Op #2: And?

Op #1: It wasn’t a problem.

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