Since the declaration of the pandemic and preventatives to mitigate it over a year ago the days, weeks, and months seem to run together, at least for me. This story and others like it from across the country on the ongoing tussle about the information generated and tabulated from the 2020 US Census reminded me of a blast from my past on a previous nose-counting expedition from another time. I called it:
Taking Leave of My Census
It came in the afternoon mail earlier this week, and truth to tell I thought it was the auto club, looking for a renewal on a membership (I already have a lifetime membership but I can never remember if it's mine or the car's).
Once I figured out it wasn't that, I assumed it was probably a statement from Usury International Bank explaining, in accordance with the new Credit Cards R UR Friend Act (reminiscent of the warnings Big Tobacco put on their products), that at the minimum monthly payment level, I'll need to believe in reincarnation to get their Plutonium Card off my back.
It wasn't either of those things, of course. After all the weeks and months of screaming and yelling on the THNs (Talking Heads Networks), it was only the US Census. Anyway, since it was paper, I decided that opening the envelope under running water was counter-intuitive, not that we didn't have enough running water on the Eastern Seaboard in the last few days.
But, to minimize the chances of Demon Spawn escaping the envelope, (of course) I opened it outside, behind the sandbags in the bunker where I watch both Glenn Beck as well as Keith Olbermann. Together, they're like a cranial colonic, though refreshed is never what they leave me.
I've been around these parts for close to sixty-nine years, and maybe there was a lot MORE brown acid at Yasgur's Farm than previously advertised, but I don't remember filling out a census form, ever. My evil twin, Skippy, 'blue or black pen' in hand, wondered if we should be living in a barn and if you can sell myrrh on e-bay. You have to offer it as a bonus for purchasing frankincense, I think. And cows contribute to global warming, especially when you drive to the store and buy pieces of them for cook-outs.
I've been eyeballing the whole form for a while and if there's a lyrical conspiracy behind it (Sorry, what? a liberal conspiracy! That makes even less sense), it's pretty slick, since even when I hold it up to the light I cannot see any aspect of it. Although, come to think of it (and maybe this is the clever-by-a-half part), the ballpoint pen manufacturers might be up to something since no #2 pencils are needed (or even wanted) at all.
And what the heck are The Duggars supposed to do when they run out blanks before children's names to put in 'em? Move?!?
-bill kenny
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