During a break from a heated game of Go Fish with my eight year old daughter, I had inspiration to write an article about the election. Excitedly, I put down the energy drink I had been guzzling to increase my card playing skills and started to write.
Perhaps we should look beyond the campaign rhetoric and dig deeper into what the candidates really think? I’d rather not. Instead, I think you should listen to my sage advice and vote for the candidate with the best teeth. After all, how can I vote for someone if they don’t have a nice smile? I’m not sure I agree, but it sounded reasonable when my neighbor told me. On the other hand, he has no teeth and spends a large amount of time peeling potatoes.
Like some of you, I lie awake at night worrying about money, my job and unrest in the world, while my Aunt Trudy worries about when her laxative will kick in. Yesterday, in the midst of all this worrying I received a letter from my 30-year-old cousin Sam. It was a ‘G’. I added it to the other letters he sent me and hope someday they would spell something meaningful. Sam has nice teeth. Maybe he should run for office? Sometimes I get so stressed about the election that even after a vigorous 30-second workout with one-pound dumbbells I can’t relax
It was during a knitting lesson with my Aunt Trudy when I had an epiphany about the election. I told my family, who then encouraged me to seek political office. We all jumped in the family van and drove 90 miles to the nearest political office where they dropped me off in the 30-degree weather to ponder my decision. Needless to say I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be a politician, especially if it involved standing out in the cold. I’ve often thought about running for office, but was discouraged by the lack of toilet paper in government buildings.
My polling data, which consisted of my wife, daughter and dogs, indicated I had a slight chance at becoming a Golf Course ranger, which I immediately pursued. I was informed by golf course management that such a position was not an electable one, but I was still welcome to apply. I did just that and got a really cool shirt. On the first day I brought Gus, my goat, to the golf course. In hindsight, it was not my best decision. Gus took a liking to the green on the seventh hole and then proceeded to snack on Mr. Werner’s polyester pants on the tenth hole. Both Gus and I were escorted off the course in due haste. Needless to say my “political” aspirations were hindered.
Not being one to sit around I thought long and hard for 10 seconds until I found an answer. In an attempt to stimulate the economy, the government is planning on giving everyone rebate checks. Instead, the government should give every family a goat. What? A goat? Why, you ask? Before you toss this commentary into the trash or use it to line your bird cage and run to the store for something more sensible to read like the National Enquirer, please hear me out.
A few of the benefits a goat offers include free milk, free cheese, someone to talk to, plenty of meat for those non-vegetarians, fiber to make a mohair sweater for our cold Wisconsin winters, and they can also be bred so its really the gift that keeps on giving.
Of course you’ll have to be careful because goats will eat almost anything. One time, my Uncle Lester caught one of his goats in the house eating Aunt Trudy’s purse. It was almost gone; buckle and all. Unknown to Gus, the purse contained a laxative. That poor goat was pooping imitation black leather for a week.
I’d be happy to write about more of my ideas, but Gus ate those too. Maybe the rebate check is a better idea after all and families could buy a goat and still have extra money.