As long as he gets up to 200 pounds, and as long as we find a way to get him to Dee Jay’s parking lot in Fredricktown between 1 p.m. and 3 p.m., the reservation has been confirmed, and the official death clock is ticking for our little piglet (…for those of you looking for material to fill SavePossumStreetPercy.com, you better get on the ball.)
Apparently, as an FYI, slaughter houses do not take walk-ins. Remember this, lest you be caring for your adopted livestock a month or two longer than expected.
It’s like the ominous clock on the Rutherford Funeral Home on High Street. You know the one. It’s Percy’s Song.
I could have titled this post “…and how many reps was that again on the bench press, Mr. Representative?”
“You do notice I’m taking notes, right?”
or better still,
“Why election interviewing on the home stretch is fun!”
You see, some journalists reach significant milestones later on in their careers — after hours of meetings and scooping off the record in dark alleys, etc.
I was validated early on by unsolicited work-out descriptions, a free tour of the capitol and a harrowing tale of a local carwash … the one where once, our tenured lawmaker “gave an orphan $50.”
I wish I wasn’t so famous so that I could tell the whole story. The general theme, however, is that People are Amazing. I couldn’t be happier with my Statehouse experience. Stop by for details.
Also, as a second FYI, the governor’s race is heating up in Ohio. and pssst. You know Strickland? the PRISON psychologist? He might be GAY. Total flamer. How did I miss it?
Please hold me accountable, dear friends, to my personal goal set just a few moments ago. I am making it my priority to touch Jon Stewart or at least obtain an article of clothing some time this week. Fool me once, shame on you. Midwest Midterm Midtacular, or whatever, here I come. Mr. Stewart, your clock is ticking.
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