There’s one truth in America’s good manners book:  when the President of the United States of America comes calling, you open the damn door.

But then, Rick Perry was raised in a pig sty and had a tumbleweed for his only friend.

You know, we’re gonna have to clean chicken bones out from under the couch and get the washing machine off the front porch when he leaves the Governor’s mansion.  And I do not even want to imagine the fried pork skins oil on the walls.

President Obama is coming to Texas.   Rick Perry is refusing to come to the airport to shake his hand.  Rick is demanding a meeting or nothing.

Okay, somebody go stand in front of the Gov Shack with a bullhorn and holler:  “Rick, he’s the President of the United States of America and you’re the disgraced sixth place finisher in the New Hampshire primary.  You damn fool.”

Seriously, here’s a dude who got 0.71% of the vote in damn New Hampshire and spent a freekin’ fortune to do it.  Hell, Gingrich got 10% and even he knows he can’t boss around the President.

What is wrong with you, Rick?  Are those fake glasses giving you a headache?

Look, somebody drive him to the airport and tell him that Mr. Tumbleweed is being held hostage but the Crips and the Bloods will release him if he shakes Obama’s hand.  Then somebody give the man a damn tumbleweed to talk to.  Don’t worry, by sundown he will have forgotten it ever happened.