Skip to main content

Pole Vaulting

Y'all know, I don't usually talk about politics on this blog, but that changed when this arrived in the mail:

This may be the funniest thing I've read all week.


So, let's skip past all the expected rhetoric and cut to some of the weirdest statements in this deceptively boring-looking pamphlet:
  1. "My candidacy's an attempt to attract attention to my blog . . ."  Why didn't I think of this?  Running for office is a great way to increase your readers.  I mean, I wouldn't want to win or anything, but neither does this person.  See, they say it straight out: "I have no expectation or desire to win."
  2. ". . . the Seattle Monorail can be upgraded with the same technology the Hyperloop One is developing."  Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!  Seriously, nothing makes me more angry than the mention of the monorail.  I'm one of the people who paid ridiculous licensing fees for the expansion of the monorail.  But wait a second . . . did you say "Hyperloop One?"  As in, the monorail will go really fast and be in a tube?  Now that, I can get behind.
  3. "I . . . speak to you Seattle emerald degenerate super smart freaking idiot . . ."  I speak to you candidate, and I cannot figure out what you are saying.
  4. ". . . where I played football and pole vaulted."  Wait, what?  You know how to pole vault?  I mean, that's cool.  I've always wanted to pole vault or maybe, you know, swing from a trapeze.  
%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/%/


If you have been following along with Egregious, Chapter 13: An Eye for a Bullet is now posted and Tatiana is getting into even more trouble:
The servant gestured at the priest in what Tatiana figured was sign language.  
“He says that you talk too fast and mumble,” said the servant, flipping his hair out of his eyes.
“Well excuse me!” Tatiana responded.
“Look at him when you talk.  I’m just an interpreter.”
“I don’t want to look at him.  He’s mean,” Tatiana rubbed her cast.  Her arm was starting to hurt again.
“He says you don’t have to like him.  But, you are assigned to him and he can make your life hell.”
Tatiana swore.  “Don’t translate that part,” she glanced at the priest grudgingly, “I suppose you must be Alister then.”

Popular posts from this blog

Possibly the Last Short Story for Awhile

Something strange happened this month: I missed my 12 Short Stories deadline.   There have been many things changing in my life, and I’ve realized that there are a few things I will need to put less energy into.  That doesn’t mean I won’t write anymore, but that I may write less, or may just focus on longer pieces.  That being said, I did write something, it just didn’t meet the word count. So here is one more story.  It’s not a story about politics, it’s a story about human nature and human feelings. ——— The war is over, or at least that is what they say.  But how do you stop such a thing once it is started? Charles sighed when I asked him, “You act as if you don’t understand politics.” “I don’t,” I scratched a sliver of paint off the window with a razor, “I’m not even sure we should be doing this.” “They said we could remove the blackout paint,” Charles swiped an even curl of latex to the ground.  It fell among the budding roses, an artificial petal. “But there are still soldiers ove
Read more

Decay, Swine, and Beauty

We are staying at an estate that is like a beautiful woman with tangled hair.  Neglect is slowly wearing away at her, and you know that in ten years she will no longer be beautiful.  But right now, her unkemptness makes her eyes seem wild, and she is ablaze with a vibrancy no clipped hedge ever had. And there is a pig. I'm hoping to have a little more time to write while we're here.  The kids have attended one day of school this month thanks to the snow, and they had some fierce cabin fever.   I've been inching along with my mystery, but I really want to get sidetracked and write a little office romance for kicks.
Read more

Short Story: Distraction

It was an office, not unlike any of the other offices around the city. There were windows, visible to the lucky few cubes on the ends of the rows. Then there was Vera's cube, situated next to the row of manager's offices. Today she was lucky, someone had left their door open and precious slant of sunlight escaped, warming her back and washing out half of her computer screen. "I never realized your hair was red," Tracy dumped a large stack of paper on her desk, "The florescent lights make everything look so soupy." "What is that?" she pointed at the stack of paper. Tracy only offered compliments when he wanted a favor. "I need this entered," he smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "You have a secretary," Vera waved a freckled hand to her left, "Ask him." "He's sick," Tracy gave her puppy-dog eyes, batting his long dark eyelashes. Vera sighed and fought back a smile. Tracy was such a s
Read more