Stange Bedfellow
Misculoonious Rumblings
NON-CENSUS
By now you've probably gotten your non-census form. 
Short or long, either way the pesky meddlers at the
non-census bureau want you to bend over forward for
THEM!  Thanks butt, no thanks.  All yer gettin' is
what's call for in the Constitution(remember that
thing?  Supposed to put limits on GovCo), the number
of humanoids living at this address.  So ya wanna know
how I get to work ehh?  By car, you nimrods!  There
ain't no publik (read: GovCo) transportaion around
here and I don't need it anywway.  Wanna know my race?
HUMAN, you dipsticks!  Get a real job and get outta
my life!  (Who's that at the door?)

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ANCIENT CUSTOMS
Today while DRIVING HOME FROM WORK an SUV passed me on
the National Defense Highway System(Interstate, to
those of you that forgot how GovCo justified getting
into the road building biz after WW2) at well in
excess of the posted speed limit.  Naturally it was a
GovCo vehicle, US Kustoms no less.  I had never seen a
Kustoms car before and was stuck by the truly garish
graphic that adorned it.  What really set me off was
their slogan:  Tradition/Service/Honor.  Tradition,
sure, they've been around since the founding of the
Republic.  Service, well, they serve someone, I'm
sure.  We're just trying to figure out who and what. 
The last one really got me though, Honor.  With all
the corruption that is in most bureacracies compounded
with the fact that they are hip deep in Drug War
payoffs, stating that they have "HONOR" is a bit like
Bill Klinton taking out a full page ad in the NY Times
saying how frickin' devoted he is to Hillary.  And why
didn't the State Trooper pull 'em over for speedin'? 
Professional courtesy I guess.  Like a hooker calling
her pimp "Sir".

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UH OH! IT'S L.O.
Well, I'm thowin' my hat in the ring.(You think I look
stoopid now you should see me in a hat.  It was my
best option.) I'm runnin' for county Commissar(at
least that's how the current occupant of the office
treats it.)  It's time to get into the belly of the
beast and kill it from the inside out.  Campaignin'
sucks.  All that kissin' hands and shakin' babies gets
to be a real bore.  The food sucks too.  Chicken pie
dinners, bbq's, pancake dinners(you are what you eat)
all add up to a life filled with heartburn.  I hear
Bill Klinton loves campaignin'.  I guess that's why I
hate it.

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"Live every day as though it's going to be your last;
for someday you're sure to right."
          Breaker Morant(right before they shot him)