Ok, so there were seventeen at the start line and Marco was only one of them. But, there was something heroic, awe inspiring, fresh and so nice about the story of this humble boy who rose from being the son of a bartender and a main into one seeking the highest office in the land. OK, so he was not a poor Jewish boy from Brooklyn, nor a solid middle class boy like Scott Walker whose dream for America was a land without a single union that seized money from job creators and gave them to lazy, Marxist union leaders.
Ah, Marco was so fresh. He had such cute kids and a wife who adored him. Who can forget his cutting remarks about “small hands” that sent Donald into a frenzy of proving that he not only had large hands but a large penis as well. Ah, Marco, always fighting for an America without health care for the poor, fighting to protect our wealthy from becoming less wealthy. For Marco, it was morning in America when the poor finally understood their task in life was to remain poor so job creators could produce more and more jobs for the wealthy.
So, depart, Marco the magnificent. For decades to come, children will sing songs about your gallant fight for job creators and love of bartenders and maids.