OK, you got me. It's true. I'm prejudiced. Oh, I'm not against people of color, or the LGBTQ community -- although I do feel they're monopolizing entirely too much of the alphabet -- or even Seventh Day Adventists. No, it's dummies I can't stand. I do respect the office, however. If you spend any time at all on social media, it's obvious that some people cannot be trusted with a computer. Then again, in America, anyone can own a gun.
Shouldn't there be fireworks? Or John Philip Sousa marches? After all, for the first time in the history of history, many North Dakota Republicans are concerned about the integrity of elections. Dang! I should've made sure you were sitting. Medic! Someone's down! Yes, the one in Birkenstocks.
Gil closes the gate and hops back on the four-wheeler, its fenders caked with mud. It'll probably be three hours before that heifer drops her calf, he figures. Time enough for supper, a hot shower, and a cold beer. He's in his pickup now. Ten minutes later he's at the bar to pick up a six-pack of Grain Belt, just like Dad used to drink. God, he misses him.
Do you know why so many people find "Tiger King" so fascinating? Because it's a jungle out there. The COVID-19 pandemic has simply stripped away the veneer. Some of the ugliness beneath was revealed last week by Mike McFeely in an article about workers' fears about returning to work at a Fargo pub, feeling their employer wasn't serious about providing a safe environment in a city teeming with infection.
Imagine a North Dakota without property taxes. It could happen, but first, swashbuckling Bismarck libertarian Rep. Rick Becker needs 27,000 signatures by July 6 to get the measure on the fall ballot. Don't worry, Rick's not going to be upset by my description. Anyone who wears mauve suits is definitely swashing. Doesn't anyone wear tan anymore?
Reality check. The grand reopening of America, complete with used car dealer windsocks and kazoos, is all chrome with a rubber band under the hood. Here's the deal. People won't shop for anything but the necessities until they're convinced it's safe, and the only way that'll happen is with freely-available tests so we can isolate the infected and get the healthy back to work. Without a viable treatment and a vaccine, people won't willingly become sacrificial lambs for the economy. Willingly.
Take a look at the photograph accompanying this column. Now, imagine me with even worse hair. At this point, I'm a little past the “Dumb and Dumber” stage and am swiftly approaching early Unabomber. Give me three months and I'll look like Donald Trump's doctor. And will be equally qualified. I was trimming my own hair until my personal groomer died last week after a tenure shorter than that of a White House press secretary. Now, my electric toothbrush is on the blink. You know how these things come in threes? Please pray for my bidet. There's a sentence I never thought I'd write.
Now, the epiphany. The veil’s been lifted and we see that we've been living with the illusion of security in a house of cards built on shifting sands in a blustery prairie wind. We've discovered that we're on our own, that we’re in this together, and that the herd's only as smart as the dumbest cow.
Hey old buddy, Well, it's come to this. A letter to an estranged friend. I've made some calls to other friends—the easy ones. Calls you can make after six months or six years, and somehow the space in-between evaporates. But with you, I've been avoiding it. Unsocial distancing. We ought to be good at it by now. Pity.
Remember the time I extolled the virtues of a president displaying glimpses of mediocrity? Well, that didn't last long. He's returned to form. Last week, he vowed to defeat the enemy -- The Washington Post. Next up, the China Virus. I understand that it's appropriate to call it that because of its origin. Fair enough. Trump Stock Market, then. On a related note, Dear Fed, please stop trying to fix things.