a bit of fiction, written on an early spring Sunday morning. enjoy

 

    It was that blasted drip that started everything.
    I was awakened by a drip in the middle of the night, followed by another a minute later. Reaching over and turning on the bedside light, I inquired of the sleeping cat what shenanigans she had been up to, but furry feline gave no response. Drip, there was another.
    Looking up, I noticed the damp spot on the ceiling, with a growing pregnancy of water droplets and sagging sheetrock. This would simply not do, as you can’t spend the night sleeping with a bucket on your head. I hauled the bed out of the path of the impending river and nodded off to sleep, resolved to fully investigate in the morning.
    The next day was a sunny one, so I was bitten by the old “Pa Kettle” quote about fixing roofs. “If it’s rainin’ I can’t fix the roof…If it ain’t rainin’, it don’t need to be fixed.” Truer words were never spoken, and surely ol Pa Kettle must have been a writer at heart.
    A few days later, we got one of those Maine storms that put a man in serious consideration of gathering up all the neighborhood pets in pairs and getting out boat construction manuals. I had put the leak in the roof out of my head, and gone off to bed after drinking a bit too much.
    “WHOMP!”
    I had been brained with a soggy slag of sheetrock, roughly the size of an encyclopedia. Faithful sleeping cat, now slightly less faithful since things began dropping from the indoor sky sat wide eyed puffy tailed and howling at the indignity of waterlogged ceiling being dropped on her in the middle of glorious slumber.
    That was it. I hauled the bed out of the way again and made plans to go up and give the situation a look see in the morning.
    Crawling up under the attic eaves,  I quickly zoomed in on the problem. A whole section of the roof was sagging, the plywood eaten away by dry-rot, the stringers eaten by carpenter ants. This would be no quick trip to the local home improvement store…this was contractor level work.
    A couple of local contractors came right by within an hour of getting the call for an estimate. The recession/depression whatever the hell it is hit local building guys hard. If houses are underwater on their mortgages, that tends to distract all but the super-rich from building new ones.
    They all quoted me around the same amount for the work, 6 grand, half up front for materials. They also wanted me to deal with all the “paperwork” of permits and such first. I looked in my wallet and noted not only the condom that had been there so long it had turned to powder, but an impressive collection of moths that were going after the condom. Off to the bank for a home improvement loan.
    The folks at the bank were quite friendly. If I was getting a home improvement loan to get new super-insulated windows or an energy efficient boiler, they were glad to help. I told them it was to fix a hole in the roof, and they became remarkably less helpful. “You see sir, it’s like this. If your roof has a hole in it, the house it now worth less than th mortgage…a lot less. The value of your old house is around 80 grand here on the books, but a house with a hole in its roof is worth about 50. Our guidelines on home improvement loans are quite clear. If the value of the loan is more than 10% of the value of the house, you have to refinance.”
    So I did. Things were slow at work lately, and my budget for the refinance was non-existent. I ended up adding three additional years to the end of the house loan, provided I take out an additional amount for energy efficiency modifications. That was the only way to get them to waive the refinance fees.
    I next went off to city hall to file the building permit.
    The folks at the building permit office were downright friendly. After I filled out the three page form describing all the work to be done, the clerk asked me for a bunch of additional stuff. Did I have an engineers report? Had I checked with the zoning board of appeals to put the item on their calendar? Had the historic preservation folks signed off on the project yet?
    This was a stumper. I explained that I was not building a new house, I was just repairing the old one. The clerk tut-tutted me and assured me that all the things she had mentioned were requirements for a building permit. I lived in the historic preservation district, so any change to the way the house looked just this second had to be approved. I had to use “period appropriate” shingles for the structure, and the whole thing had to be looked at by a structural engineer.
    I called around in the book, and got a structural guy to come by that day. He went up into the attic, poked and prodded around a bit, and the next day emailed me a 37 page report on the overall condition of the building, with particular attention to the hole in the roof. I sent the report off to the three members of the historic preservation department, marked “urgent.”
    Three days later, I got a reply that they had put it on top of the agenda..for a meeting two months from now.
    Nothing to do but sit and wait, and get dripped on. The hole was getting bigger.
    Two months later I got the conditional approving from the hysterical preservation district. I call them this since they had insisted that the entire roof be replaced, not just the leaky section. They also approved use of those “period appropriate” shingles that I had to special order from the local lumber yard. They would be delivered in about ten days.
    I called up the contractor to see if he was still available. “Sure am” he said with a grin I could hear over the phone. “Do you have the deposit money?” I said that yes, I did. We settled on the date ten days hence to start the work, but he wanted to stop over and pick up the deposit the following day. “My last job screwed me, and I’m going to have to take the guy to court. I gotta pay my crew up front or they won’t show.”
    Finally, the work began. The crew showed up, looking a bit bedraggled. They were fine. When the building inspector came by an hour or so later, I knew trouble was brewing.
    “You see sir, it’s like this. Your contractor has not paid his liability insurance bond with the city, so we pulled his contractors license. His state license was also pulled since he’s about three months behind on his child support. Sorry to do this to you, but unless you get another contractor, I’m issuing a ‘stop work’ order.”
    I asked how the contractor was supposed to pay those things in addition to paying his crew if the city and the state wouldn’t let him work for the money to pay it. “Not my problem, that’s just the way it is.”
    I asked for the deposit back from the contractor. He told me to see him in court.
    I went down to the court to file a small claims lawsuit. The lady at the desk was quite helpful, and put it on the docket for the first available hearing…in 18 months.

    Half the money gone and none of the work even started, I had to dig down deep. t was time to “nut up or shut up” as the old saying goes. I tooke a trip down to the local home improvement store, bought roof rakes, big blue tarps, fresh shingles, new plywood, nails, new sheetrock, paint and brushes, as well as all the rest of the stuff I’d need to complete the job myself.
    That would show those bastards. I’d do the job myself, with the materials I wanted. Screw the historic preservation district and the building inspector. I own it, so I should do the job the way I wanted it done.
    You see, this whole story flashed through my mind in less than a second. I had forgotten something.
    I didn’t rig the required OSHA safety line on the roof. While plummeting towards the earth at the speed the earth sucks, everything from that initial drip and inquisition of the cat right up to now just flashed through my head.
    Why? beause I didn’t have contractors insurance. The re-fi I did on the house specifically stated that my homeowners policy was null and void unless all work was done by licensed professionals.
    Likewise, my health insurance had the same language.
    So as I continue to plummet, I’m reminded of that old song we leaned as kids, that infinite loop song.

There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then fix it, dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.
The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then cut it, dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it.
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With an axe, dear Henry, dear Henry, with an axe.
The axe is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The axe is too dull, dear Liza, too dull.
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Then sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, hone it.
On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
On what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, on what?
On a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With a stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, a stone.
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.
Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Well wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.
With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, with what?
try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
try water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.
In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
In what shall I fetch it, dear Liza, in what?
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
In a bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, bucket.
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There’s a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole.

    We’re the freeest country in the world, bedeviled by our own bucket regulation. I’m still waiting for the landing.

By Bob Higgins

 

Notification came last week that the Portland Ice Arena was in need of some drastic repairs, and quickly.
That initial news article sent teams scrambling all over the area to find another place to practice, or to hold hockey games. Although the project is slated to be finished by the end of the summer, the hockey teams scrambling to find other space to practice and play shouldn’t have been the only ones.
Snoopy folks like me should have been scrambling too.
Life, particularly the “practical joke” department of it does tend to come along and occasionally present you with what can only be described as a frosted urinal cake, complete with festive sparklers and jimmies. A year or two of putting off maintenance budgetary items can lead to a quick surprise from the reality department.
This time around, the surprise in question is going to cost $625,000. Replacing pumps, chillers, and a frost preventing heating element. Luckily, the city was able to find the funds to quickly start this project with some unused energy efficiency bonding.
If you follow the news, that last sentence should be ringing big alarm bells in your head.

Back in October of 2010, the city approved an $11 Million dollar bond package for various energy efficiency projects that needed to be done quickly. Boilers at schools needed to be replaced, as well as boilers at the Barron Center.

Checking in on some of the listed projects, I have yet to see on the city website where they were even put out to bid.

These were projects that were already approved, the bonds sold, the money ready to roll, and the projects themselves waiting for companies that were interested to jump on board, get the work, and get the job done.

Somehow, snoopy folks like me find it a little odd that 18 months after the funding was approved, little of that work has been done…or even put out to bid.

In the unlikely event that someone in Portland might actually be looking for some work, you know, hearing that whole “get off the couch” thing from the Baboon in the Blaine House last weekend, there is little excuse for these projects to still be sitting on the shelf.

Anyone remember that whole “stimulus” project for Deering Oaks pond, the one that had the city dredging the pond to scoop out the duck droppings and potential tossed weapons, to replace the goop with a “hard surface” covered with sand? Some of that work has been completed, but the pond has already been filled for the year.

Guess phase two of that project will have to wait for Fall, but my guess is those jobs have already been counted as jobs “saved or created.’

Doing a figure eight double back reverse with a  twist to the ice arena thing, another interesting tidbit jumped out at me.

On Thursday, David Carkhuff did a front page article on the construction process down at the arena. Work seems to be chugging right along, with the ice all melted and workmen removing the thermal sand and floor panels to get to the chiller.

Was this project really so much of a surprise that in less than two weeks, the city announced the project and works began that quickly? Not really, once you look into it. The “Request For Proposals” (RFP) has been posted on the city website since March 12th of this year. The city knew this particular project was going to happen for quite a while.

By the way, that photo showed the workmen diligently working on the beginning of the project, looking as though this has been going on for about a week.

The bidding was closed April 11th, but the Finance Department website shows no record of who won the bid.

It’s disturbing that there are projects out there that we have already raised the money for going waiting, but more disturbing when those pre-approved projects are kicked further down the road for something the city already knew needed to be done, but was unwilling to let the public know about until after the fact.

Guess this one just skated by us all.

This year, despite my efforts to remain a bystander for the whole Maine GOP convention nominating process, I was selected as an alternate delegate.

My guess is, party leadership was trying to prevent exactly what happened this weekend in Augusta. The Paulbots came, saw, and conquered.

Taking leadership of the Convention chair, convention secretary, that put  Dr.No’s team of crafty minions in place to get control of at least 15 seats of Maine’s 24 delegates to the RNC convention in Tampa.

A quick check of the rules committee will indicate that they WILL be seated for the convention in Tampa…somewhere near Tallahassee.

Dr.No and the moneybomb/paywithgold/endthefed crowd never cease to amaze me. From day one (at least this time around) his campaign has been based on a few clear talking points.

1.There is a conspiracy in the national press to ignore Doc and make sure he doesn’t get elected.

2. The conspiracy goes all the way to the TOP of the RNC. (funny, Doc was not a Republican until the collapse of the Libertarian party)

3 End the Fed. The Fed is evil. Liberty. Moneybomb. Banks are all owned and contolled by the Rothschilds (Which, hell folks…we’ve hears this shite before.)

There is NO DOUBT IN MY MIND that the Paultards would stoop to any level to get their guy in. Just this past weekend, there were allegations of a “missing ballot box” at the Nevada Convention. This in a state that RP did well in in 2008, yet his OWN WEBSITE cites an RNC report calling the Nevada Convention that year ‘inept’.

So this time around there were “fake” ballots of alleged Romney delegates printed under a “Ron Paul” slate passed around at the conventions, both Maine and Nevada. Seeing that Charlie Webster put out the word that he knew what was coming and for Romney delegates to get there early, I HIGHLY doubt that his group had anything to do with it.

I think its the RP folks. Call yourself a victim, then produce “evidence” that you’re being victimized. Then make sure everyone sees it, that it gets passed around, retweeted, cited. If that swings just 10% of  a crowd, you’ve won them using a cheap parlor trick.

Yes. I believe there are shenanigans going on. And I believe they are being planned out of RP’s secret dungeon in Louisiana .

Santorum pops out of the race last week.

I know, I should update this site more often, but I’ve been heavily involved in deep shenanigans, mostly of the skirt-chasing and beverage imbibing nature. Kind of like US Secret Service Agents, but I wouldn’t take a bullet for anyone…not for overtime pay.

With Santorum out, that leaves the field of candidates down to three. Mittens, Speaker-Badger, and Dr. No.

One might THINK that leaves the field wide open for a surge, a come from behind fantasy-hallelujah-hail-Mary that would allow Speaker-Badger or Dr.No to make a surprising comeback.

Yeah, you might think that, but you’d be wrong. The sharp-toothed one has no money, and Dr.No is coming across more every day like his James Bond namesake.

a chronic poster over at AsMaineGoes summed it up like this. ”

The idea of Newt Gingrich being a potential Republican contender at this point is like looking in the refrigerator, and the only thing to eat is a 4-day-old dried-up slice of pizza.

Please Newt. Stop.”

 

Of course, being the snark-in-chief here at GOPLM, I couldn’t let it go at that.

“If Speaker-Badger is he leftover 4 day old pizza, that makes RonPaul the plastic container of something fuzzy and green. In the words of George Carlin, “…could be meat…could be cake!” ”

By Bob Higgins

The phrase “Those Yankee Engineers” didn’t come about just because someone in the world though we were good at train work. Credited to Jules Verne, he found the mechanics of Maine to be not only good at selling things to each other, but rather genius when it comes to thinking up new ways to do stuff.

Earlier this week, the latest in generations of innovation ran afoul of the law; while driving a load of propane tanks he had welded together to make a pontoon boat, Joshua Prokey of Westbrook got pulled over on Route 302. Immediately, everyone jumped to the conclusion that he must be a terrorist. A state trooper at the scene was quoted as saying, “You name it, he violated it.”

Initial reports said some of the cylinders he had welded together still had propane in them. This is unlikely, due to the laws of physics. If he had managed to strike an arc on a propane tank with residual propane, he would not have been building a pontoon boat, but likely would have been the first Mainer to achieve low-earth orbit.

Likely what those thought on the scene to be residual gas was residual methyl mercaptan, a colorless gas used to make propane smell like a cross between rotten cabbage and a pile of my old socks.

But the story of those that try to innovate doesn’t stop there, friends.

Remember the folks that asked last year to bring “food trucks” to the streets of Portland? After several months of complex organizational dithering, the report finally came in to the Creative Portland Corporation on a note of a first meeting by a subcommittee on the subject of food trucks. Creative Portland hopes to come up with a decision soon, to forward to the council for action.

Judging from the 25 minutes of meeting time regarding whether or not to accept the sub-committee report on the artistic appropriateness of bench design for Back Cove/Portland Trails, I’d suspect the final decision will be laid before the council sometime around October … after tourist and selling season is over.

Looking at the number of patents issued to U.S. citizens by the U.S. Patent Office in the last 10 years, and seeing what has been issued in the last 10 has equaled the entire patent history for the previous couple of hundred, it’s not hard to see that folks are getting real good about trying to create and invent ourselves out of the economy. The problem is the regulation.

Let’s assume for a moment that Mr. Prokey had an idea to recycle used propane cylinders into a pontoon boat. Sketch out a plan, hand it to someone fully licensed to weld on tanks will cost you roughly $65 an hour. Float testing by a certified marine engineer? Add another decimal. State review? File those forms, then go take a nap. Whoever replaces the guy that replaces the guy that LePage’s replacement nominates might be getting back to you.

Somehow, somewhere along the line, we’ve lost the ability to let folks risk themselves and their own fortunes. We’ve given up on the freedom to innovate in favor of designing the perfect thing we need now, with a five-year process to build it.

Think of all the mopeds that were “illegal” to use on the Maine roads five short years ago (because of design issues). Originally, when the one that I bought was illegal, it sold at one of the local auto parts stores for $400. It got over 90 miles per gallon. As soon as Maine certified them, a thousand bucks got added to the price.

What is keeping this economy from taking off like a rocket-welded propane tank is just the sort of thing that happened. Someone saw the tanks, freaked out, thought terrorist attack, and flipped on the blues. As a state and as a nation, we’re running up against something called “Parkinson’s Law of Triviality.” essentially it’s a description of the process of Government. If you are planning to spend a year designing a nuclear reactor, you’re going to spend a majority of that time arguing about what color to paint the bike shed attached to the parking structure.

Want an example? Last week, this paper did a story on the Danforth Street elderly housing project. Quoting from that article, “A housing development for the elderly on Danforth Street will offer twice as many parking spaces for bicycles as for cars.”

So the elderly are supposed to start riding “fixies” now instead of those sidewalk hogging wheelchairs?

We’ve even given up on rearranging the deck chairs. What we’re doing now is holding meetings on considerations of appropriations for a budget for creating a task force to deal with the comprehensive design plan of deck chairs. By the time the first chair actually gets rearranged, the second version of this show will already be on the way … this time in 3D.

(From Curtis Robinson, over at The Portland Daily Sun)

 

Senate race brings Bizarro Romney analogy

So after a few weeks of political musical chairs sparked by Sen. Olympia Snowe’s decision to skip re-election, I finally heard it all: A comparison (sort of) between GOP presidential hopeful Mitt Romney and Maine senate hopeful (again) Jon Hinck.

“Mitt Romney is the Bizarro Jon Hinck,” was the idea, although a Republican might have inverted the comparison.

You do remember the Bizarro world, right?

Likely more famous now for involvement as a Seinfeld plot, the actual Bizarro was a comic book planet populated by opposites of superheroes. My personal favorite was the Bizarro-Batman and his “Futility Belt” holding stuff like chewed gum and other items held valuable there.

Bizarro Aquaman couldn’t swim and so forth.

But what makes the Hinck-Romney joke-ish comparison meaningful is the apparent lack of excitement from what should be a natural base.

Romney should, on paper, be a GOP dream date, with the righ private sector cred, the just-enough government experience, the money – so why do his ought-to-be swooning followers not accept him for the Big Dance?

They say he lacks commitment to core values. They say he lacks the clear conservative track record of True Love. They seem to fear Romney’s a liberal who lies about being a conservative to get votes, as opposed to the Speaker Badger who they figure is a conservative who sometimes lies about being a liberal to get money.

Yet Romney seems to be soldiering on toward nomination.

Cut to state Rep. Hinck.

How to make a Bizarro Romney? How about a co-founder of Greenpeace who served as the top Democrat on the state legislature’s energy committee, where he made life a living heck for big business? He represented commercial fishermen after the Exxon Valdez spill.

Consistent track record. Legislative leadership. Progressive resume in non-governmental arenas. And when they say he seems a bit — let’s say “calm” — for politics, you might retort with: Really? Ever heard of Greenpeace?

Yet much of his Democratic base seems to lack real excitement for the effort, which became evident when Rep. Pingree seemed headed for a U.S. Senate race, sending the base into a frenzy usually reserved for major sports championships or vampire stories.

Then she decided against running.

And in filing of 2,000 signatures with the Elections Division last week, the Big Step to getting on the primary ballot, Hinck was using the “a-word” of politics.

“Hinck acknowledged,” said the campaign in a written understatement, “that the past couple of weeks were a whirlwind of activity … after Olympia Snowe’s decision to retire, Maine’s two Democratic members of Congress expressed interest in Snowe’s seat. Hinck made plain his willingness to step aside in deference to the two members of Congress.”

What he said at the time, in what was frankly a fine bit of political writing, was: “Given my respect for both Mike [Michaud] and Chellie [Pingree], I will not join such a race.”

So Hinck is a team player. Or at least a political realist.

But wait!

Then former Gov. Angus King, a very progressive Independent beloved by the Democratic base, steps into the Senate race with an authority that left many political newcomers scrambling to determine if his was a name or a job title.

Pingree wisely wants nothing to do with that fight with her friend, thus defers to King and goes back to seeking House re-election, thus leaving Hinck moving back over to the Senate primary with what we can presume is less grin than chagrin.

All this could leave a candidate looking less like a strong leader than a quality utility infielder – the Nick Green of Maine politics – and a good pick for Bizarro Romney.

But here’s the flaw in the Bizarro concept: Bizarro characters have to actually have something in common with the real-world conterpart. After all, the true opposite of Superman is not really a guy in a cubed planet wearing a costume, it’s a guy in a cubed workspace wearing khakis – maybe typing on a six-year-old Mac with worn Scooby-Doo stickers to draw analogies with obscure Red Sox infielders … but enough of that.

Like his Bizarro pal, Hinck is also soldiering on. And nothing makes you look more like a real nominee for high office than becoming the real nominee.

Bizarro or not.

By Bob Higgins

 

For anyone that has ever looked into the process of making soap, it really comes close to the elements of politics. Add water, the fat of land animals, and lye (or lie, if you will) and boil the resultant mixture for a bit.

Take the resultant sludge that starts to solidfy, slap some essential oil and fragrances in it to make it smell pretty, chuck it into a mold and dry it.

Sounds like an election to me. Hard to believe we ever tried the “saponification” process of having clean elections.

Originally, the idea was based on the whole “get big money out of politics” concept. As noble as the idea of putting a bell on a cat is to the rest of the mice, someone has to do the deed and deal with the resultant claws. As someone who has actually had to deal with the process of bathing a cat for a “flea dip,” the resistance and howling to a federal judge tossing out sections of the law sound familiar.

This week, when the Maine House decided to use what some called the “do nothing” option, leaving the court opinion unchallenged and stripping the Maine Clean Elections Act of the matching funds option, it was if the cat had been given an icewater rinse.

There are those on both sides that think the idea of tossing out clean elections entirely is tossing out the relatively clean new baby with the nasty bathwater. Money has always been a huge part of politics, ever since Ug The Caveman jumped up on the first big rock he saw to “run” for leadership of the tribe. Those who wanted things done their way paid larger portions of tribute.

Little has changed since Ug. Whether it be the knuckleheads at Americans Elect, The RNC/DNC, Right-Wing groups, Left Wing groups, or just plain old rich folks, money pours into political campaigns.

I’m going way out there on a limb. The money isn’t the problem. The biggest problem is the lack of chasing it back to the source.

Conventional wisdom from around the turn of the 20th century said that the definition of an “honest politician” is one that “stays bought.” Sure, it’s crass, but the influence of money in politics is about as predictable as that of the moon on the tides. You can chart it years in advance.

Maine could take the NEXT step, and resubmit some hastily worded but quickly overturned by the courts band-aid to fix the mess. A smarter idea would be to scrap the whole thing and start over.

Picture a law, consisting of two sentences. “No donation of any kind shall be made to a political campaign without an accompanying Social Security number. EIN/Tax ID numbers shall not qualify under this statute. All money donated to any campaign, by any individual, shall be registered with the office of the Secretary of State no later than 10 days before any scheduled election.”

No last minute money. No 501c (4) corporate untraceable donations. No beleagured state treasury on the hook for potential matching funds.

As a candidate, do what you wish with the money. The reporting of every dime spent on postage is sort of rediculous. Possibly keep the filing requirements, just to show your donors you were responsible with “their” money, as that might be a fairly good indicator of how they’ll spend everyone else’s money if they get elected.

So there is is. Do we scrap the whole system and start over, mindful of the inevitable challenge from monied interests, or take the path of least resistance and let politics hoover up as much as it can? Make the process individually accountable, and it just might work.

On Monday, Maine Governor Paul LePage put out a presser stating that he woild be heading the Maine Trade Delegation to China this September.

After a few minutes of laughter among members of the Maine media, I volunteered the services of my minions, a worldwide collection of slack-jawed lackeys and fellow drunkards. I will voluntarily take the position of being the sole member of the “press pool” (yes, the shallow end of the gene pool) and use my Loki-Like network of evil to make sure they keep him.

Which brings up an interesting point. This lady is retiring as Secretary of State just after the November election.

That means, while she is still in office, she will be solely and ultimately responsible for the comments and behavior of THIS guy.

 

There are not enough monkeys in the world to drag me away from this potential story.

I’m guessing that about the point she realizes she is responsible for this guy, HRC is going to be making a swift online purchase for a ball-gag, a gimp suit, and nipple chains to keep him under control. Possibly one of thse shock dog collars.

My only question. Can I have the remote when you’re done with it?

So.

Here we are on day 8 of the aftermath of Olympia Snowe’s announcement that she will not be running for her US Senate seat.

Over the last week, with a deadline of petition signatures due in a week, Maine Dems and Republicans have been scrambling with the fervent intensity of a fat man on an all-bran diet in search of some kind of relief.

Candidates have been jumping in like a rugby scrum. Some that were initially planning to run for the Senate Seat (Jon Hinck and Cynthia Dill) swapped over to run for Chellie Pingree’s seat in Congress when it became clear that she was about to jump into the Senate race.

On Wednesday. Chellie dropped her own bomb. She wasn’t planning on running for the Senate seat.

Quite shocked were Mike Michaud, who was planning to run until convinced last week to keep his House seat. Then, there are the two Dems who swapped races, who now look at the prospect of having to swap BACK a week later.

When former Governor Angus King jumped in the race officially on Monday, the landscape changed. This afternoon, it changed again.

You can’t really underestimate the effect of the Public Policy Polling released Monday night/Tuesday morning. In a two way race, no matter who the opponent, Chellie wins. If Angus gets in, Angus wins, stomping over Chellie by a 5% margin (though that does not include the 4% margin of error.)

So Angus is in, Chellie is out. Damn that unicorn meat looks tasty.

All in all, Maine Dems have to feel like they have just been “Hoganized”

For those unfamiliar with the term, click on it above, though its prob NSFW. It involves three fingers, and what you do to chickens who have stopped laying eggs.

Let me know if anyone finds Chellie’s watch. I understand there is a reward.