Pogo's general philosophy suited me fine, and I miss him. Every Christmas I lift an eggnog in his honor and sing, "Deck us all in Boston, Charlie! Walla Walla, Wash, and Alley-garoo." Sometimes I'm tempted to hop a bus for Waycross, Georgia and hunt for him. I'd borrow or rent a bateau and paddle around in the Okefenokee Swamp hollering, "Pogo-o-o-o! Where ARE you? We n-e-e-e-ed you!!"
John Wrisley is seeking a statesman to return us to our senses. He can't find one among the current crop of candidates (except Ron Paul).
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