Tuesday, August 29, 2006

 

Free at last . . .

The good news is that after nearly 8 weeks of being held against our will and blindfolded in some isolated Lake Erie "cottage," we have escaped our bonds. We know little about our captor except that his name was "Bob" and seem to be growing increasingly incoherent and angry, mumbling over and over about something that sounded like "fucking November sweep."

We subsisted on a diet of crappy dessert wines, burnt burgers and left over Bud light, and forced to listen to Pat Dailey songs until we reached the brink of insanity.

Then, just a few days ago, we heard the voice of one of our captor's frequent visitors raise his voice at "Bob" and accused him of blowing his chances to make a fortune off of charter schools. Then we heard "Bob" yelled at the visitor to take off his White Hat and put up his dukes. With this distraction, we spotted our first real opportunity for escape.

As we stumbled to the front door, the glare of the first real sunlight was agonizing, but we summoned the strength to take a measure of revenge and smashed the oversized OSU logo (not that we have anything against the Bucks - concentrate on that post pattern for us, Anthony G!) we spotted on "Bob's" front door. The last thing we heard was the visitor shouting at "Bob," "Sweep? I'll show you a goddam sweep!" and "Bob" replying, "I'll take on you and that creep Kasich and mop the floor with the both of yas!"

Luckily, we eventually found a highway and waved down a car that turned out to belong to an Ohio Turnpike employee. She and her family told us about some very wacky proposal to "sell" the roadway.

We said it must be another one of Kenny Blackwell's insane ideas, but she pointed out that no one else running for GOP office denounced it as crazy.

"Even Betty?" we asked.

"The mojo's running out of Montgomery, too," she replied.

And as the kind family drove us home, we couldn't get the sound of "November sweep" out of our head. Though we once associated it with the bitterness of our captivity, it now sounded like honey to our ears . . .

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