Nov 9, 2010

Politically Powerful 'Lamont Bovine Association' Condemns That Doggone Long Beach For Exploiting Cows For Cheap and Tawdry Political Gain

A local bovine support organization lowered its horns and is prepared to charge after an inflammatory photo began to circulate around Lamont - the origin of said photo being that doggone show-off Long Beach, if shameless rumors are to be believed! This unsavory display of bovine humiliation can only serve to raise the already fever-pitch tensions between Lamont, a small, disorderly, largely mission-less (and laggardly!) town in the Palouse and the bright, nicely planned, refreshing, well-managed and tourist friendly Mecca where the beautiful people with actual money go on vacation - yes, that stupid Long Beach itself!

"Well, that is all I need right now! Oh, that is all I need!" whined an area Mayor who has enough on his plate, wearing the shame of being the Mayor of the 2nd smallest town in the State that doesn't even have a public restroom, let alone any stores - not even a 'Quick Stop' or a measly 'newspaper stand'!! "Oh yeah, like my life is not already filled with crushing levels of self-doubt, simmering self-esteem issues and a general propensity towards feelings of claustrophobic doom! So, of course, amidst that foul gumbo of the basest of human emotions, in trots that dadburn Long Beach, having to stir up our easily excitable and potentially explosive bovine boosters who really only have one local target of choice - yours truly himself! Thanks loads, Long Beach! Oh yeah, that's just peachy!!!" he sniveled while shaking his fist in the general direction of the Pacific Ocean!

"So, there I was, minding my own business, acting like I wasn't home like I usually do when I am, in fact, at home - and the next thing I knew both my front door and back door began to heave under the pounding of the truly motivated and/or potentially criminally insane - so what could I do? Anyway, when I tried to shamelessly slip out the side window in a vain attempt to slither on my belly out to the barn in the tall grass I had neglected to mow in over a month (of Sundays!) I ended up nose to nose with that fearsome Jethro Festoon (and his goons!), the acting President of the Lamont Bovine Association himself. And even before the whiskey breath hit me in the face like a 30 pound salmon that had been left in the sun for too long, he proceeded to shove that stupid Long Beach photo in my face, demanding some sort of feeble explanation from me or some pound of flesh or whatever! What could I say to the man? I have done my best for over two years to dismantle that stupid seaside wonderland and vacation paradise brick by brick, so how is it my fault that they are basically impervious to my pathetic yet persistent barbs! They are inhuman or superhuman or whatever! Hey, I really need some help there! Just when I think I have gained the upper hand, or maybe even the upper finger, even for an hour or two, (Okay, those poorly chosen words, regardless of the largely inarticulate symbolism they pretend to convey, seem to border on some obscene hand gesture that the Lamont Blog cannot approve of! This is a family friendly blog, for Pete's sake!) that doggone Gayle Borchard comes trotting in, all chipper and happy and glowing from some new and hideous planning success for her City, and begins throwing her strategically placed little photographic hand grenades all over the place and the next thing you know I am politically blown to smithereens onto the wastes of Adams County! (except for the ground Lamont is situated on, Whitman County doesn't have any wastelands!) Oh, like I don't have enough issues on my plate without having to constantly be bested by some outrageous City that I have only been to twice! (In fact, he has been there a few more times than that - usually in disguise!) Don't I already carry the crushing, cumulative shame and humiliation of any ten men, being the thankless Mayor of Lamont and all? All I have to say is "Thanks, Long Beach! Your timing is superb, as always!!! And, oh yeah, darn your beady little eyes, too!" he concluded before dragging his spare bed down into the root cellar where no one will hopefully look for him - at least not for a little while, anyway! (And by that time maybe they will be sobered up! Doubtful, but a man can dream, can't he?)

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