Ace Deuce

Now Serving Irish Breakfast Tea

My slingshot monkey lost his hands in a slingshot accident. "I'm having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day and I'm moving to Australia."

The Ann Arbor Art Fair had what can only be called a politics street. Everybody has a booth now, not just artists - stores have booths in front, bums can harp one-dollar bottled waters (that's like paying eight Washingtons a gallon for water, by the way), sponsors got booths - so why not give a street over to Greyhound and Anti-Circumcision activists.

I had a petition to sign, so I knew where to start looking. Every church had a stall for a street-preacher - the Churches of Mitt Romney, Amnesty International, Communism, certainly Global Warming, and others. Nudists were fortunately keeping their activism to a modest level, while I scanned the booths for a tell-tale "NORML" or leaf image.

I would be initially disappointed, but not before stuffing my pockets with a Calvary CD (apparently targeting Arabic-speaking peoples) and random pamphlet I didn't want, but somehow had. I also signed three Amnesty International petitions and was tempted to ask the Pro-Life booth where I could find a marijuana petition.

I found it finally not in a booth, but with a random guy who coincidentally lived in the same county I did. He helped me out with rules affecting changing dormitory addresses as a registered voter, and I signed his petition (which, apparently, earned him two bucks).

Later in the day, I saw a guy walking down the street with a giant picture of an aborted fetus on his sign, above which read "'CHOICE,'" twice. One of them came when my Neil Young-like employer was discussing politics with a Greco-Indian-English woman who he'd haggled with earlier. The second time, he yelled "That's obscene!" directly at the guy, who walked on by stoically of course.

I'm definitely not moving to Australia.