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The chant started in an overheated living room in an overheated building in a bitterly cold city; it flew outside and was carried worldwide on clear arctic winds, creating in its wake an enthusiasic army poised to throw confetti, blow noisemakers and break open pinatas, just as soon as the word, or rather, the sentence, arose from a certain capital city of a certain sundrenched western state.
February 11, 2008 at 7:30 AM ::
And just to the north, perched high atop the glorious golden dome of his state’s rain-drenched capital, clung another eager observer, sipping his coffee while he hooted at congressman, saying things like, “Hey, get a real job,” and “You’re no Calvin Coolidge.”
Keith on 02/11/08 at 08:03 AM ::
Meanwhile someone else timorously dreamed he’d be appointed to the kitchen cabinet of the newly annoited, noting in passing that a certain someone else was about to take over the presidency of the 300-club, moving the clubhouse to the east coast, wondering if snacks would be served and how he would make it between two disparate states on such short notice.
'mouse on 02/11/08 at 09:32 AM ::
The scriner in question laughed with surprise, checked her stats, and tilted her ear to the sun-drenched window to try and catch the faint sound of chanting.
pam on 02/11/08 at 11:49 AM ::
I got so excited (and started buying noisemakers, pinatas and confetti) when I saw <em>five! o! o!<j/em> in the comment field. I thought it was Pam’s 500th
Come on Pam! Go Pam, go Pam.
Will there be cake? Who will reach their new club first? Bake? Pam? The Wildcard?
boot on 02/11/08 at 04:20 PM ::