We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
All of us at Maggie's accept this honor with great pleasure, which has been bestowed upon us via email by noted Canadian journalist "Ted".
In his electrifying words, which have shaken the entire blogosphere, he says: "You have the most interesting blog in the world, well, maybe except for a few other really good ones that I also check daily."
Alas, our friend Ted is neither an influential blogger, nor a blogger at all, but he had some college and rebuilds truck carburetors. You'd be surprised how many trucks there are in Winnipeg: the town is one giant truck stop with a fine S.I.R store just down the road from the MacDonald's, next to the tittie bar and the incredibly busy WalMart. Ted writes a bit of poetry on the side (you may have read his "blue-collar modernist" gem in The New Yorker, a deeply spiritual piece which begins: When my girl is on the nag / should I sleep in my car / or go to the bar?) along with the occasional feature piece on local color for the Winnipeg Free Press. Sad to say, local color is a scarce commodity in Winnipeg other than at Pop's Topless Lounge and Pizza. Ted has been known to shoot a Snow Goose or twenty, or more, on a slow day at work - but, in Canada, every day is a slow day at work unless you live in the US suburb called Toronto.
Thank you, Ted, for the honor. We will treasure it always.
"Irony-free zone"? Absolutely. We are planning to collect medals from our cascade of accolades...for which we are breathlessly waiting. We will place them in a nice natural oak display case, on the mantle, for our one friend to see, when they come over - if they ever do.
Did I give your permission to use my name? My lawyer will be on the phone with you shortly. If I had one.
Hahaha. Funny post, Bird Dog. No irony for sure. But that was not my best poetry work - got bettere ones for ya, buddy. Will email.
There is an old Comanche legend hereabouts (central Texas, toward the southern terminus of the great Staked Plains, where the Edwards Plateau breaks up on the Balcones Escarpment) that Winnipeg produces great poets on account of it's so hard to rhyme it (Winnipeg).
That's true. And there's also the danger that something crazy will get inside your head and you'll take them to DC, gin up a big crowd to watch, and then maybe or maybe not throw them over the fence at the White House.