Very Nice

Kathy Sakry, left and David Parkes, right, have mental disabilities and have been taken advantage of by predatory lenders.

Songs I Never Hated - Part 2

Walk Away Renee - The Left Banke
Uploaded by themaltesebippy

Nothing To Fear

A Love Song

What a lovely trip that was. A nice day in a Canadian "city" eating Canadian "food" and drinking Canadian "drinks," which for some Canadian "reason" must be poured in meager jigger-sized portions. When bartenders cannot free pour then no man is free.

All this after cooling our heels for better than an hour at the Canadian border. Our neighbors to the north are learning bureaucratic efficiency and spitefulness from us. While we were waiting I read the helpful materials provided by the Canadian Border Services Agency.

"Hey, it says here we can request service in French," I told my traveling companion.

"I didn't know you spoke French," he said.

"I don't."

"Why would you ask for a French speaking agent then?"

"It would be funny to ask for one and then tell them I don't speak French."

He considered for a moment. "Yeah, that actually would be kind of funny. Except they'd get mad and we wouldn't get to our hotel before bar closing time."

"Good point. It's not worth the risk."

We were finally released after answering the two probing questions posed by a disturbingly perky agent.

"Name?"

"Snag."

"Occupation."

"Moose wrangler."

"Enjoy Canada!"

"Merci."

"De rien."

"I'm sorry, I don't speak French."

Still, I managed to avoid creating any other international incidents, at least any that I remember. Probably because I had a very serious cold (which as usual did not elicit appropriate sympathy from the Lovely Bride). Speaking of heel cooling, however, the long drive home did give me the chance to update one of my favorite poems. I present a portion of it here for your enjoyment.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the bacon is spread out against my thigh
Like a beagle euthanized upon a table;
Let us go, with certain half-smoked meats,
The muttering bleats
Of nervous sheep in a fenced-in lion's den
Or a strip mall on a calcareous fen:
Lions that reek of a hideous scent
Of grease and peppermint
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not shriek, "Who are you?"
When we yell "Boo!"

In the room the women cool their heels

Talking of Rodney Dangerfield.

When In Rome

Thursday I'm off to invade visit Canadia for a few days. With a meeting near the border anyway, the chance to spend some time away from my squalling brood was simply too tempting to resist.

But what should I do when I'm there? It would be a shame to visit such an exotic locale without experiencing some of the local flavor.

Thank goodness for the internet. Even though I missed the Cowsills concert, there are any number of unique options to consider.

I could look for smoked meat.

I could hang at the methadone clinic.

I could make change at a bank that's not in danger of imminent collapse.

I could go out for a nice poutine omelet.

I know! Beer Fest!! And it's sponsored by the Manitoba Moose Yearling Foundation!!!

Thank you, baby Jesus.

Bail bondsman willing, I'll see you soon.

Amen

My nomination is still wrapped in its electoral placenta and I've already been called a moosamentalist. Well, so be it. I've been called worse. Thank God for the presumption of innocence.

Nevertheless, bigotry hasn't died yet and there's nothing I hate more than bigots, except perhaps the Dutch. In the hope that greater understanding will lead to greater tolerance, I set forth some of the key passages from the New Saskatoon Testament and Taxidermy Guide.

1. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was Bird.

2. And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from moose, made he a barbecue, and brought it unto the dinner table.

3. And the calf grew, and she brought him to Pharaoh's daughter, and he became her pet. And she called his name Mooses.

4. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's peat.

5. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Moose, that whosoever eateth of him should not perish, but have everlasting meat.

6. And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a moose rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten antlers, and upon his antlers Mardi Gras beads, and upon his heads the name of Molson.

7. And when he had taken the five moose and the two elk, he looked up to heaven, and blessed, and brake the moose, and gave them to his disciples to set before them; and the two elk divided he among them all.

8. And he said, Take now thy moose, thine only moose Bullwinkle, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Canadia; and offer him there for a delicious stew upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.

9. So when they continued asking him, he reared on his hind legs, and said unto them, Let's get it on.

10. Our moose which art in swamp, Tasty be thy name.

Thy forest come, Thy will be done, on grills as you are in ovens.

Give us this day our daily meat.

And forgive us our obesity, as we forgive those who ply us with food.

And lead us not into the produce section, but deliver us from vegetables: For thine is the breakfast, and the lunch, and the dinner, for ever. Amen.

I Accept

My Fellow Mammalians,

I stand here tonight to accept your nomination. It is an honor and a privilege. You have helped me find my happy place.

When we set out on this journey six long days ago, we didn't expect the obstacles that were thrown in our path. Swiss physicists trying to blow up the world. Unfair questions about whether sentience alone is sufficient preparation for high office. A very late night at a Dandy Warhols concert.

We also didn't expect the help we received from unexpected quarters. The pint of blood a supporter mailed from eastern Montana. The contribution from the storekeeper who foolishly left his cash register unattended. The unsolicited campaign slogans from Friends of Befouled.

We certainly didn't expect that unpleasant video to show up on YouTube. Fortunately the American people understand the meaning of "consent" and we were able to quickly put that behind us.

But that is the past. It is time to look to the future.

And a glorious future it can be. You already know our platform. What does that platform mean for you, though, the average voter, the person none of us really cares about?

It means five dollars in your pocket for every hobo you bring to the polling place on Election Day.

It means Snickers and patty melts for our senior citizens.

It means having an advocate in your corner, an advocate who will fight for you with a ferocity veering dangerously close to psychosis.

It means periwinkle helicopters that smell of lavender.

It means a higher grade of bituminous.

It means conjugating "frumpy."

And, of course, it means a moose in every pot.

There are some, including my opponent, who will try to tell you it is impossible to deliver this cornucopia of delights. Perhaps it is impossible, in the syphilitic opium den in which he chooses to spend his time. Out here in the real America, though, we know how to Git R Done. And Git R Done we shall.

Can we put a monkey on Jupiter?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we weaponize bursitis?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we provide every hardworking American with a pre-paid calling card?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we break the stranglehold the isopropyl cartel has on our economy?

We'll Git R Done!

Can we add a moonfaced calf named Ploopy to Mt. Rushmore?

We'll Git R Done!

But I can't Git R Done by myself. I need your help. More specifically, I need your money. I need your currency, your change, your credit cards, your animal pelts. With your help, your money, we will defeat fear, we will defeat entropy, we will defeat the defeatists and the appeasers and the mordants and the mods and the mopes and we will rebuild America! In the immortal words of George Washington, we will once again make the most of the hemp seed!

Ladies, gentlemen, thank you!