Saturday, February 14, 2009

Senator Moon?

Although my mind is not completely made up, (Ed.—messed up is more like it!) I have about decided to become a US Senator. They seem like a decent bunch of guys to work with and the benefits are pretty good. A lot of folks down here in Lawrence County seem to like me so I don’t think getting elected will be much of a problem. Heck, even my barber, who voted for Obama, thinks I’m a smart guy and you know how much influence they have. Some of the fellows who hang around down there offered to help me got elected; or at least I think that’s what they said. It had something to do with helping me get out of town. I also get along good with the folks in Verona that work for Tyson’s plucking chickens. I might have to get a Community Organizer in there for a while to help them get the right voting credentials.

One of the drawbacks is you have to live in Washington, DC. I know an apartment would be real expensive so I figure I’ll get one of those new expandable travel trailers and park it at one of the District’s many handy trailer parks. (Ed.—Heck, Jan's sister and brother-in-law, retired from the Department of Energy, live in McLean. They wouldn't mind if it was parked in their driveway.) Or maybe I can find one close to a golf course so I can keep my finger in the golf course pie. I part-time here at the links so I have a lot of the necessary experience. I can just hear it now: “Have you seen Cec, it’s time for that critical vote on that Aid to Impaired Expectorating Primates Act (SB-433) and we really need his input.” “No,” they’ll say, “but you can probable catch him at the trailer park or the golf course. He doesn’t answer the phone much so you’d better go in person but be careful, he doesn’t take well to strangers and he’s generally well armed.”

Some might think I’m not qualified because I’m not a lawyer although I have hired a couple in the past. I believe that will easily be overcome because I do understand how to cipher using really big numbers. Shoot, even the Speaker of the House, doesn’t know the difference between 500,000,000 and 500,000 and we all know that’s an important job. I’ll admit there are some numbers I don’t understand. I’ve got this neat book called the Constitution which claims that every state gets two Senators per. Then, the president comes along and claims there are fifty-seven states. That means that with 100 Senators, seven states are lacking the guys (or gals) to represent them. Check the math: 100 ÷ 57 = 1.7543859. Now, that’s just not right. See, I’ve already discovered a deficit.

Now, the missus won’t be able to come with me to Washington because someone has to stay home to watch the critters and look after “the place.” So, it might be pretty lonely there until I get a chance to make some friends. Some guy that had been there a while said there was a bunch of folks up on “K” street that turned in to good buddies in a real short time. You know, took ‘em to lunch, found ‘em cars, and generally “took care of ‘em.” It makes sense for me because I understand they know all about big numbers, too. I remember a guy I met once in Kansas City who claimed that if things got too bad and you really needed a friend in DC you could always get a dog. He was even a Senator for a while and then found advancement. He was there for several years and didn’t take his wife either. Maybe I should bring a dog from home.

Now I know that it takes money to get to be a Senator. I’ve got a lot of good ideas there and not all of them involve relatives like most of my schemes. I figure we’d raise a bunch if we took plates of Jan’s great fudge down and set up a table in front of Wal-Mart on Saturdays and sell it. We took some to Carr Oil Company before Christmas and the guys there in the shop thought it was the best they ever had. Oh, it’ll sell I tell you. I sure hope I don’t have to get a job to raise the money. I wouldn’t want to be a Senator if I wanted to do—you know—do actual work.

Now, I’ve got some time before this next election comes around so it’s probably silly to ask you to vote for me now. But keep it in mind until 2010 when I get the next shot at it. You might want to check with your neighbors and be sure they’re on board and maybe see if there’s anyone that’s ready for the obituaries that could help out. We sure don’t want to deprive anybody of their vote. If you need help in getting felonies expunged from some of your buddy’s records, just give me a call and I’ll help if I can. You know our motto: “They did the crime; they paid the time; and now they're mine.”

So, I guess this is what you would call my formal announcement for the job. Heck, I don’t even know what it pays and I’m still willing to try it. After watching some of these guys, I know it can’t be that tough. One thing that has me puzzled though is how they all start out as paupers and when they leave, they’re millionaires. They must be moonlighting on more than one job. I reckon I’ll soon find out. Remember: “Vote for the Moon and Reach the Stars.” I made that up. (Ed.—'Course, Hollywood types being what they are, he might have to turn left for that "star" stuff. Not sure he'd be willing to stomach that. )

In His abiding love,

Cecil Moon

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