“Just about a month to go,” his conscience said, whistling. “I’m excited that you’re going to vote for the candidate I pick. You can’t vote for Trump. You said if people voted for him, ‘this country could well plunge into the abyss.’”
“Yes,” Cruz said, uneasily. “But I always said that, you know. About all kinds of things. I didn’t always mean it.”
“Oh,” his conscience said. “Well. But.”
“Not that I didn’t mean it that time,” Cruz added, hastily, putting on his coat and adjusting his tie.
“Where are you going, Ted?” his conscience asked.
“Just out,” Cruz snapped. “Can’t I go out? Can’t I do anything?”
From: Ted Cruz and his conscience amicably part ways – The Washington Post
Photo by Ninian Reid
My reflex on hearing of the Cruz endorsement of Trump was a shorter, less creative version of this, but it begged the question, “When did Cruz ever have more than a passing relationship with his conscious?” Beating him up about being an opportunist ready to throw yesterday’s principled stand under the bus, over a cliff, into the fire of eternal damnation seems quaint when confronted with that other fellow’s carryings on.