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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.  
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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.”

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