Anyone who has ever read this rag knows I’ve got my own beef with COLAB and Andy Caldwell. I thought hiring an Obama impersonator who paints his face was a dumb move. Andy and COLAB didn’t. They responded and said I was a jerk, or something more eloquent.
You won’t see our ankles tied together for the three-legged race at the upcoming father-daughter picnic anytime soon, but we’re not getting in back-alley snap fights, either.
But Adam Hill has done something I never thought possible. He turned Caldwell into a sympathetic character for me. Now this Ned Flanders look-alike with his own radio show and a legion of farmers and businessmen at his beck and call brings to my mind a sad puppy with a burr in its paw. It’s freaking adorable. I have to keep jabbing a fork in my thigh when I see Andy to keep myself from writing COLAB a check with a smiley face in the memo.
So Adam. What’s up dude? Did COLAB break into your house and move the furniture around? Really, what’s going on? I get that you don’t like these guys, whoever they are, but I don’t pretend to know what they did that got so wedged in your shorts.
Did they de-friend you on Facebook?
Did Mike Brown poop in your yard?
Did Caldwell tie all your shoelaces together?
I’m not taking sides here. Nope, I like to plant myself firmly in the middle—between the trenches—where I can sit back with a bag of Cheetos and watch the fireworks.
One side launches: “COLAB is racist.”
The other side fires back: “Adam Hill should apologize, resign, and buy everyone a drink!”
To be fair, I don’t generally enjoy watching politicos grind their teeth and speak in platitudes we all know is total BS, either. For example: “We thank you for your hard work. However, I have a few questions,” can be roughly translated to, “Try again, moron.”
That’s how my government speaks—in lies—and I’m used to it. It’s like a warm blanket someone peed on. Cozy!
But when Hill sent a letter to Sam Blakeslee, I nearly choked on a Cheeto the size of my middle finger.
“Perhaps you don’t know about the hostile, secretive, and frequently racist activities of COLAB,” Hill wrote to our state senator. “I wish I could give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, but this is so disappointing and offensive. I only hope you won’t be featuring a blackface entertainer impersonating the President as Andy Caldwell featured in COLAB’s recent fundraiser in Santa Maria. Best of luck.”
Then he shipped a copy of the letter off to local media. I don’t get it. Are we writers and reporters just here to hold your—how do I put this delicately?—gentlemen equipment during this pissing match, Hill?
I guess it worked, though. Blakeslee postponed a planned fundraiser at which Caldwell was slated to emcee. Or is it MC? Either way, his duties would be nothing more than announcing the wedding party and firing up “YMCA” to get everyone moving. You can tell I’ve never been to a fundraiser?
I’m not defending Caldwell—and quite frankly find myself expecting a cartoon villain to burst out of him like Christopher Lloyd’s character in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?—but who cares if he’s hosting a fundraiser for our Republican buddy in Sacramento?
I’ve heard rumors that Blakeslee lobs passive aggressive insults at small children, so maybe he’s not that great. Just kidding, Sam! But seriously, I want to emcee your next fundraiser. You can pay me in Cheetos since I keep choking on mine.
Personally, I think going after COLAB the way Hill has been only generates a bad guy image for the supe.
I’m allowed to bash COLAB because I’m not in office—yet. After all, it’s almost election season. Wait! Do you need a campaign manager, Hill? I could be a big help. When you start getting huffy over Caldwell and his cohorts, I’ll just kick you in the shin.
Because I’ve got more important things to do than mull over the ins and outs of this tiff. My hydrangeas are wilting and my parakeet’s stressed because I keep shaking its cage in frustration.
I tried going for a walk to calm down. Long story short, it didn’t work.
Is it illegal to park your motorcycle on the sidewalk? Hold on a sec, let me call the fine folks in the SLO parking department.
“Can I park my motorcycle on the sidewalk or will I get a ticket?”
“Yes, you will get a ticket. You have to park in a space.”
Message received. But that’s me: a lovable law-abiding Pollyanna.
A few weeks ago I saw two CHP motorcycles parked on the sidewalk outside Firestone restaurant in SLO. I’m sure the building was on fire or being robbed. Something important, not just two cops in dire need of pulled pork. So I wrote about it.
And you know what? They did it again! Maybe I wasn’t loud enough last time. I’ll use lots of elaborate punctuation this time!
You’re telling me they can park their motorcycles on the sidewalk because they have a hankering for barbecue?!? But I park on one lousy orphan and I have to go to court!?! Seems a bit unfair :(
If you happen to see Barney Fife dock his cruiser on a sidewalk again, do me a favor: Call the parking department. Make them go to traffic court. If you manage to get them ticketed, send me a letter and I’ll ship you a bag of Cheetos. Or at least let you lick my orange fingers.
Shredderos are part of a balanced breakfast. Send three UPCs to firstname.lastname@example.org.