Hey folks, Fred the Tuckpointer here with some incredible news. So this Brad the College Communist character sends me text messages to my cell phone. They aren’t the sexting messages he sends his students, but they’re usually things like “Bet u cant tell me what the Magna Carta iz”. Dumb shit like that, designed to get a rise out of me. Problem is, I have a hard time sending back a good zinger, ’cause I don’t know how to make the numbers into letters on my phone. I asked Sadie to show me, but she’s mad that I tie up the computer writing these blogs, and wouldn’t help.
The dirt bag went too far though with his last one: “U and Rush R Cowards Wont Put Your Moneyz Whr Ur Mth Is”. He’s probably talking about why Rush never runs for office – its because he would rather keep making that fat cash off his radio show. If I was making that kind of money off of this blogging thing (hint), I would do that too. But I don’t. So the challenge was on – Brad the Fruitbag thinks I talk too much and don’t do anything. Even though I went to a Tea Party, I guess that’s not enough. Ah, but remember God is a Conservative God. He may sometimes work in mysterious ways, but he wants smaller government and less taxes like you and me.
Last Thursday Scotty B. was doing a job on the East Side when a gust of wind knocked him off of his ladder and into some power lines. He got shocked pretty good, then croaked a couple of days later at the hospital. I didn’t know him all that well, but he served on the Compliance Committee for the Local Tuckpointers 4012. With his passing, that left the 4 person committee one guy short. According to the Union Bylaws, an emergency meeting of the whole 4012 had to be held within a week of a committeeman stepping down/getting killled to elect his replacement. My boss Richie is also the President of the 4012 and said anyone who wanted to run to replace Scotty B. should show up and put their name on the board. I knew it was time for me to get active.
It was a nail biter – when I showed up at the hall there was already another guy’s name in contention, some dude named Meister. I put mine up and waited for Richie to show and call the meeting to order. Richie came in late, but no one else showed…it turned out nearly everyone was down at Johny’s watching the Cavs. The rules state that as long as anyone shows, there has to be a vote. We sat around for about an hour, then Richie called the meeting officially to order. After waiting a couple of minutes and making some more calls, he said “Well, I guess we should get this over with.” I dropped my vote in the box, then we waited some more. As President, Richie can’t vote. An hour later, still no Meister. So Richie called it and I won 1-0.
Democracy, baby! I called Sadie to tell her she was married to an elected official, then tore off in the F150 down to the bar to celebrate. Most everyone had left after I got there; I guess they were all upset because the Cavs got knocked out of the playoffs again. Who cares? Basketball’s for sissies anyway. And for Socialists like Obama. I can’t wait for the full Committee Meeting next month – now that I am wielding some power and have political capital to spend, its time to set some things straight first with the union, then with Obama. Big changes are coming…you wait and see. How’s that sound, Brad? Maybe you can sext me. Till then, Fred the Tuckpointer, Committee Man for the Tuckpointers Local 4012 signing off.