Archive | February, 2012

In the Santorum Inner Sanctum

Gran Salinas Estate
Grand Cayman
Cayman Islands

Bronson Borff, sandal mogul, creator of neon plastic sandals and chief backer behind Santorum For President, puts his unshod feet up on the footstool of his custom rataan Eames chair and positions a wireless keyboard on his lap, He unwraps a Cubana Majesta Grande, and trims the end.

On the 72″ LED screen of his LG wall-mounted monitor, the blue Skype signin window flickered and the call window appeared, followed almost immediately by the well-known goofy ringtone.

The image of Cheroot Carlson filled the entire screen.

Any face expanded to fill a 72″ screen, suddenly appearing inside someone’s living room, would give anyone a start. Clarence “Cheroot” Carlson’s face under such conditions and in HD to boot could cause muscular spasms that would require medical attention. Borff remained stoic. He had seen worse.

“Hiya, Mr Borff!” Happy as a dog, Borff thought briefly. It suits him.

“Hello, Clarence. First on the line, as always.”

“Cheroot, Mr Borff. Please. I’m real fond of that name.”

“Cheroot. Of course.” Borff marked a StickyNote with “Ch” in large letters, removed the page and stuck it on the end of the middle finger of his left hand. He held out that hand. A young woman of about nineteen, wearing a pale green floor to neck sleeveless dress, who had been standing against the wall to Borff’s left, stepped forward and took the note. Staying out of camera range, she walked to the monitor and attached the note to the upper lefthand corner of its border. Then she went back to her place. All Carlson saw was Borff’s hand, extending out of frame with the note stuck to it.

The goofy ringtone sounded three more times, and the screen filled with the added images of Julio Martinez, chairman of the Santorum campaign in Arizona; Chester Matheson, chairman of the Santorum campaign in Michigan, and Marty Lauter, advance man and troubleshooter.

Now, Borff beamed. “Gentlemen! The verge of the beginning of the end is upon us!”

Three of the faces grinned broader and nodded. Only Lauter seemed unmoved.

Borff continued, “The polling numbers are lining up 1,2,3. Michigan, Arizona, …”

“Washington!” said Cheroot Carlson, “Rick’ll clean up in all of them. Right, Mr Borff?”

“No, Cheroot, I’m afraid not.”

The idiotically happy grin faded from Carlson’s freckled face.

“N-no?”

“No,” Borff said. “All those states will go to Romney. It’s what we’re working towards,”

Smiles had fallen from Martinez’ and Matheson’s faces, too. “Georgia, in fact all the South, will go to Gingrich, though Tennessee’s still not undecided. And there’s always the chance that California will go to Ron Paul.” Borff stopped a moment to wipe his nose. “That mummy reminds them of Harold Camping. I knew that would be a problem.”

“But Mitt Romney will prevail,” said Borff with renewed vigor. “And Rick Santorum will be his Vice President!”

Slowly, smiles began to reappear of the faces of Matheson and Martinez. Thin, twisted smiles they were, and they seemed to crawl up the men’s faces from their collars.

Marty Lauter sat still, looking thoughtful. Carlson continued to look thoroughly baffled.

He looked at the faces on his laptop screen. “Come on, guys. You can’t give up now! Look at the scare we threw into him last week! All we need is …”

“Cheroot, look. It’s like this,” Martinez said. “We all know, Rick Santorum is way out of his depth. He couldn’t handle the Presidency if it came with cue cards.”

“He doesn’t have the … well, the stuff for it,” Matheson said. “The first tough decision, he’d be down in the Chapel in a fetal position, waiting for God to give him a sign. He said so himself! The buck doesn’t pass that far, Cheroot.”

“But,” said Martinez, stepping in again.” He does have everything it takes to be Vice President, cause a Whiffle Bat could do that job,”

“So he becomes Vice President. What’s that to us?  He sits on his ass, while we …” Carlson held out his arms to his sides. “What? Hang out?”

“We, gentlemen, run Congress.” Borff was serenely puffing his cigar, “Out of the glare of lights, out of earshot of the press, we … make laws.”

In the silence, looks were passed. Eyes locked through webcams.

Until the silence was broken by Marty Lauer.

“Fine, But what’ll we do if the schmuck wins?”

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Indianapolis: Debbie Does The Super Bowl

Indianapolis Colts Cheerleaders

Hi, and welcome aboard! Your NFL Indianapolis Experience is already underway, and we at Indianapolis Kismet Airlines don’t want you to miss one sparkling moment! So, buckle up. Here we go!

Indianapolis is “Special”, in the sense John Cardinal Cushing meant when he coined the phrases “special children” and “special education.”

“If, by ‘Special’, you mean a town where the streets all meet at right angles and the front lawns come right up to the sidewalks, where all the traffic lights are synchronized and all the pizza shops are named ‘Angelos’, where it’s cold in the winter and hot in the summer, then Indianapolis is the place for you,” says Ed Miniver, star eighth-man for the Kennesaw Mountain Wolverines of the AABA.

Indianapolis is well-suited to host Super Bowl XLVI. As the hometown of many sports greats such as Rodney Carney and Mike Conley, Jr, of the NBA, Mathias Kiwanuka and Jeff George of the MFL, and Steve Bellamy, founder of the Tennis Channel, it’s played with the big boys once or twice. And as the hometown of John Dillinger, it’s got no problem with armed robbery. David Letterman comes from here. Indianapolis. It’s a great place to be from.

Visitors to Indianapolis this February will find the city roiling with festivities right in tune with football fun. Such featured events as a Tour of the Marion County Catacombs, where actual Indiana Indians were buried as they were knocked off; the Fourth Annual Super Cigar Lounge, at the Convention Center; and the Public Safety and Criminal Justice Committee meeting at the City-County Building. Of all the many activities, these shine like the crown jewels.

And, don’t dare miss Super Bowl Village: THE EPICENTER OF AWESOME, which “trnsforms the heart of downtown Indianapolis into a ten-day, three-block interactive Festival of Football”. Watch the “Today” show, broadcast live 7-10am, or “Late Night with Jimmy Fallon”, taping 4-9:30pm, outdoors on the Pan Am Plaza, Don’t look for Jay Leno, though. He’s in LA. Nox on Letterman, too. They couldn’t meet his price.

Or, just take a liesurely stroll down East Market Street, West Market Street, or North Meridian Street, marvelling at the quaint twentieth century Midwestern architecture of the office buildinga and warehouses that make Indianapolis what it is today. The weather should be pretty mild for February in Indiana – temperature in the mid-40’s, wind from the east (or west) at 10 – 15 mph. No sleet to speak of.

At night, there’s theater at its most glamorous. At Theater on the Square, catch “Debbie Does Dallas”. Take the kids – it’s PG13. Based on the 1978 porno, it’s the story of a high school girl who’s only ambition is to become a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, and her adventures achieving it. The dialog and plot of this family oriented musical remains stunningly faithful to the original, we’re told, but with production numbers replacing the sex.

And in case you don’t want replacements, we urge you to stop by the little kiosk in the Convention Center, near the Cigar Lounge, and rent one (or more!) of the 9,000 companions imported by LarryEnterprises for this event.

We’re glad you chose to come to Indianapolis for Super Bowl XLVI. We’re sure it will be an experience you’ll never forget.

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Editor’s note – all of the above is the documented truth, except the part about the hooker’s kiosk.

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