Blairs are curious creatures.
They are at home in the darkness and thus adopt the cunning and nocturnal wiles of so many minor predators. They are highly adaptable to their environment yet are drawn to lead the herd by whatever means necessary, regardless of the chosen direction. It matters little to a dominant Blair. Preservation of the Blair herd is not a priority. A Blair will maintain it's position as leader of the pack for as long as possible even leading the herd to certain death if necessary. Because the lead Blair is is often a little too clever for its own good it falls prey to higher predators who will use a Blair to do their bidding and to expand territories with a higher quota of "meat on the hoof."
A Blair (or the European strain: Bliar) are adept at cultivating innumerable masks to incapacitate the Clueless Publicuss, or sheep, as they are commonly known. There are now reliable sightings of Blairs foraging further afield and engaging in mutual back-scratching and flea picking with closely related Italian and Spanish strains (such as the Corruptus Berlusconius) Blair droppings have been found in Tuscany and all over North America. Leave a saucerful of milk outside the balcony in a preferably exclusive resort and Bliars will generally extract the quota of phoney human kindess they need to function in order to confirm their place in the pack.
Blairs are masters at disarming prey by grinning inanely wahtever the reason and occasion and adopting the gestures and habits of the prey in question. One might say a Blair has an innate ability to encourage cross species appeal based on little more than mimicry and copious displays of strutting. There comes a point where the animal turns away, repulsed by such false candor. Then the Blair strikes. With nowhere to run, the quarry is exposed to the Blair territorial call which is distinctive in it's emotional power and dramatic range of atonal scales: "Coo-Coo -Coool Brittan- ya! Coo- Coo-Cool Britan-ya." Is one such example, yet a more seasoned Blair may just as easily call forth in more shrill tones: "Wha-Wha-Wha-Whaponsofmassdestrukshon! Wha-Wha-Wha - Whaponsofmassdestrukshon!" The high-pitched noise ratio has driven many species to mass extinction. With such a deafening din of pure territorial drivel, culled as they are from a strange mixture of animal cries, they have one purpose only in mind: to confuse and disorientate even the most seasoned sheep and deer alike, leading inevitably to entrapment.
But predators always have helpers such as the common or garden reportus propagandus whose frequent watering holes reside very close to Blair hunting grounds which are in turn, fast being encroached by the Neocon plains of KarlRovia. The former will follow nomadic Blairs everywhere in the hope that any scraps will fall to them. Consequently, they support the Blair and other species of his ilk by remaining fundamentally fearful of anything that could disrupt the safety of the watering-hole and the pack unity. The more ferocious predators such as the lesser-spotted Wolfowitz, a scavanging carnivore often spotted near or around recent kills, or the highly unpredictable black-backed Rumsfeld Rhino, (or Donaldus Manipulaatus) which takes to rolling in its' own dung to rid himself of flies, (which only serves to increase his predicament). They are very comfortable with sharing their hunting grounds with the Blairs. They know that the intelligence of this species can be useful to there future quarry, as such, a symbiotic relationship continues to exist.
Indeed, the impressive pretzel-bottomed Bush Baboon [Psychopathicus Village-idiotus] regularly commands an audience of not only Blairs but roaming Elephants and Donkeys who are strangely attracted to his overt displays of bottom baring and the accompanying flatulence. This marks the culmination of a mating display known only to those in Bush Baboon circles. Only those who have the most garish bottom - usually red, white and blue - and who can produce the loudest territorial noises in preference to free "speech" win a place on the fast rotting roots of the Whyte-hows Trees.
But as the sheep are too busy eating grass the stench and the flies which seem to surround these activities do not seem to disturb the rhythm of the Neocon plains while it slowly disappears under the rising tides of the ocean.
Blairs are curious creatures.