My turn: Search on for running mate

Recently, I spent several days camping with friends in south Texas’ Davey Crockett National Forest.

I expected a Thoreau- or Darwin-like experience — perhaps inspiring me to write Whitman-ish poetry about gentile breezes brushing dancing sunlight on the peek-a-boo canopy of nature’s humid canvas.

Maybe a missing link would waddle by — requiring new holy and scientific books to clash over evolution and creationism.

Surely, I’d at least see a giant armadillo (no biggie since I can outrun my Texas friends).

Soon, tiring of mystery-wieners, we wandered into the Moosehead Cafe in nearby Crockett.

Although a banner read “Houston County Republican Headquarters,” I wasn’t nervous since I am running on The Green Tea Party ticket (“The Party of Common Sense and Antioxidants”) and figured the ire of the daily gathering of 70ish men was reserved for card-carrying Democrats.

After overhearing their elbows-on-bellies “meeting,” I was glad that I wasn’t a Democrat, black, Arab, Muslim, Jew, homosexual, Catholic, Yankee, president or first lady.

I know that such “don’t-tread-on-me” cap-wearers do not represent mainstream Republicans.

So, it shames me to admit that — to ensure our safety — I yelled, “Deport illegals back to New Mexico!”

Their nodded approval has me re-thinking my base.

I am now seeking a WASP running mate — without a thinking cap — to sting pesky, ethnic, effete, impudent, snobbish, blood-sucking gnats sneaking-in from petrifying, rainbow forests.

Gays, intellectuals and Alice-in-Wonderland need not apply.