Lockport Union-Sun & Journal
Lockport Union-Sun & Journal — Every now and then, I call on a friend of mine just to chit-chat. It’s someone whom I consider a confidante and go-to advisor – someone I can (usually) count on for sage advice when I need it. This is an account of our most recent conversation.
“Maggie,” I yelled, out the window, “can you come in here? I’ve got to talk to you.”
She turned her head and looked my way — I could tell she was annoyed. “I’m really kind of busy here …” she said, letting her voice trail off in an obvious attempt at getting me to stop bothering her. But that wasn’t going to happen.
“Come on,” I half begged, half commanded, “I’ve got a new box of Milk-Bones .... and besides, I’ve told you a million times you’re not going to catch that squirrel. So quit barking, get your front paws off the tree and come inside.”
“Milk-Bones! Well, that’s a start.” she yipped, suddenly showing interest. “What size are the biscuits?”
“Your favorite ... medium!” Bribery is a game-changer in the animal kingdom.
“What’s up?” she barked, as she raced toward the house only to slam on the brakes and abruptly start scratching her ear like a bat had just flown into it.
Ignoring her plight, I asked, “Do you remember that song ‘Is That All There Is?’ by Peggy Lee?”
“Oh sure! All dogs have a vast record collection” she smirked, as she finally sauntered in, tracking enough mud to plant corn. “I’ve also got a closetful of 8-tracks. I’m being sarcastic. Not a clue as to what you’re talking about.”
“You see,” I explained, while offering her a treat, “it’s a song about a girl being unimpressed with anything that life has to offer.” Maggie took the biscuit, set it gently on the floor and looked up at me.
“You’re serious? You called me in here just to tell me that?”
“It’s the presidential election. I can’t seem to get excited about either candidate. It’s like that song. ‘Is that all there is?’ What’s your take?”
“Well, to be honest,” Maggie confessed, “I’ve not followed it much. The political arena is something I try to stay clear of. But as long as you mentioned it, what’s up with this baseball-glove guy?”
“Baseball-glove guy? Are you talking about Mitt ... Mitt Romney? His name is Mitt, Maggie. He’s not a baseball glove. It’s just his name. Got it?”
“He’s a Mitt, fine, I got it,” Maggie claimed, “but I prefer someone with a more common, good old-fashioned name. Something I’m familiar with. I know it’s shallow, but that’s the way I roll. What’s the other guy’s name?”
“Barack,” I said, realizing this wasn’t going anywhere now.
“Ah, and that’s why the song ‘Is That All There Is?’ ”
Maggie continued, “Here’s what I can tell you: you need to find a candidate who will create a loophole-ranger. Someone who can eliminate the all-too common practice of abusing the system. Such as people who are rewarded for sloth - they stand in line for government handouts but won’t bother to line up for employment. This sense of entitlement has to end.”
“That’s your advice?” I asked.
“Well, it’s a start.”
Maggie was right ... (here it comes) … and I have to ad-Mitt it.
For now, that’s the way it looks from the Valley.Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column appears every Thursday. Contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.