You know the deal. It’s like this: Big boy job equals no time for playing on the Internet. Somebody has got to produce. Somebody has got to pay for all of the entitlements.
I’m giving points for creativity on this mischief night report from Wilkes-Barre. Somebody (stupidly) called 911 because his car was covered in Post-It notes. Nice.
I got that beat, though. Many, many moons ago, some of my goons and I covered a Chevy Malibu in strawberry glaze. My idea.
Here’s one for you. A customer told me she wants the Republicans to sweep the Democrats out of office in a big and painful way. But…she wants Paul Kanjorski to win another term. The way she figures it, if Kanjo is surrounded by Republicans, it’ll force him to “get his act together.” Huh?
I’ve been getting hammered with political mailers. And I’ve never gotten so many pre-recorded messages from the candidates via the telephone. But until last night, not a single knock on the door.
This lady came to the door, handed me a Joe Sestak door hanger and asked for my daughter. When told she wasn’t home, the lady then asked me if Ebon intended to vote on Tuesday. I told her I had no idea about that, so she practically begged me to get Ebon to the polls and quipped, “We really need the young people to vote.”
Uh, yeah. Those young, easily-duped folks got burned by the Hope & Change Express, so I kind of doubt that they’ll show up again in large numbers. The old ‘fool me twice‘ thing, I suppose.
After hearing Bill Clinton’s pep rally (WILK) held down there in Nanticoke, I’m left to assume that Paul Kanjorski is vulnerable only to kryptonite.
The Summer of Recovery (?) has now given way to the Winter of Harsh Realities.
The president of the United States made an appearance on Comedy Central. How long before Baroke Oblahblah ups and shouts, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” Sad.
This past week, I went and signed on for the 21st century. Yep, I went and bought me, not one, but two of those 21 billion jigg-a-watt LCD televisions. And one of them even has a built-in baby-sitter, a DVD player.
So now, when the boys get on grandma’s nerves, I’ll pop in Black Hawk Down and let them take in two hours worth of death and destruction. We wouldn’t want them getting behind the other kids, would we?
Now I’m fixin’ to get me one of those personal computers powerful enough to rig a national election. I dunno. A Diebold with Windows Vista?
I also want a copy of George W. Bush’s book. I’ve read some captivating books over the years. But I never thought I’d be able to read the words of the anti-Christ himself.
My son-in-law, toiling away in his office down Knoxville way, glanced out of his window and spotted a tornado coming his way. Sent me a cool picture, he did.
Anyway, up in these parts, we get rapid-fire weather alerts when two inches of rain might be possible. And if the wind picks up enough to be even mildly annoying, we’re told to think about heading for the sub-basements with emergency kits in hand.
When I asked the son-in-law what he and his coworkers did while the twister was headed their way, he said they mostly stood around and watched it. Must be a southern thing.
Oh, yeah. I ordered myself one of those E-cigs. For those of you not yet hopelessly addicted to cigarettes, that would be an electronic cigarette.
The thing will supposedly look like a Newport, taste like a Newport, deliver nicotine like a Newport, give my fingers something to do like a Newport typically does, but it will not deliver any smoke, tar or any of that other good stuff.
Anyway, I’m looking forward to it’s being delivered.
I must now retreat to the relative safety of my fantasy football underworld. But before I do, know that I will be staying up all night when next we vote. So if any of you politically astute folks want to rap on Tuesday night, give me a shout. And for those of you on the left side of the deepening political divide, I offer a shoulder to cry on.