What is Squirrel Pie
- Squirrel Pie
- Rainy River, Ontario, Canada
- Squirrel Pie authoured by Jack Elliott began as a weekly humour column in the Fort Frances Times in late 1993. It ran on a semi-regular basis until 2000. The subject matter is nutty, featuring a list of real and fictional characters and places. Jack's long suffering wife Norma, The Pearl of the Orient, has her hands full keeping Elliott afloat, let alone on an even keel. Join us for some good-hearted humour as new tales from the Squirrel Meister see light of day! Need to contact me: elliottjhn@gmail.com
Friday, October 17, 2008
A pre-election prediction
I took in the all candidates meeting out in Hooterville the other night and it was predictable to say the least. Obama and McCain were at their best…. Whoops, sorry… wrong election.
The candidates visiting the Drizzle Creek District were arrayed across the front like a bunch of convicted terrorists awaiting the firing squad.
The assassins were scattered throughout the audience trying to get their jabs in at the victims they didn’t support, while deflecting criticism from their own favourite. Bombast and hyperbole was rampant. Even the candidates were slinging a bit of mud.
All in all, we didn’t learn much and no one changed their minds. It seems to be the status quo. But someone must be changing their allegiance; otherwise what would be the point of having an election. Well, I’ve got it figured out. A sure fire poll, I reckon is accurate. Here is how I stumbled on it.
I started listening to women. My wife the Pearl of the Orient says it isn’t true. She claims I haven’t listened to her more than once or twice in nearly forty years of wedded bliss. I had to explain it was other women I was listening to- eavesdropping actually. Husbands and wives aren’t supposed to listen to each other.
I started picking up these tidbits while waiting at the checkout, picking up the mail, paying my Stupid Tax at the 649 counter, or offering refills to the ladies crowding the front table at the Bakery in Drizzle Creek. I started keeping track.
“Did you see that hunky John RiffRaff outside the post office this morning,” gushed one lady of maturing years.
“My yes! Those flowing locks of glistening silver. I’d sure like to run my fingers through his hair,” replied a companion letting out an audible sigh.
“Well I like that Kenny BiffBoff. He has that cute little wave of hair flipping down over his forehead and such a lovely smile,” said a third and with a giggle added, “He’s single, you know.”
“That Rusty Lusty seems like a very nice young man,” observed another thoughtfully.
“Too young. He’s just a baby. You’d have to spend all your efforts mothering him,” snorted a Red Hatter obviously fed up with raising kids and ready to wear purple.
“Well how about that Ricky Oldmann. He’s a mature military man. I always was a sucker for a man in a uniform” wondered another wag, dreamily running her tongue over her lips.
“Nope! He’s overweight and overbearing. Just like my second husband when he’d had a belly full of beer,” snapped an obviously bitter matron.
“And that leader of his Stephen Heartless with his school boy good looks. Reminds me of that boy that had his way with me back in school. (Gasps all round) Lied to me and dumped me. Broke my heart. How could you trust a man that perfect,” the tirade continued. ‘Hell hath no fury like a women scorned’ and all that.
I was receiving some hostile looks so I drifted out of earshot, but I’ve been keeping score and the prediction is, RiffRaff edging out BiffBoff by a hairdo. Oldmann will be a distant third- broken hearts are vindictive, and Rusty Lusty could make a surprisingly strong showing if the empty nest syndrome kicks in.
Statistically, this poll is considered accurate within 50 percentage points, ten times out of twenty- maybe.
The candidates visiting the Drizzle Creek District were arrayed across the front like a bunch of convicted terrorists awaiting the firing squad.
The assassins were scattered throughout the audience trying to get their jabs in at the victims they didn’t support, while deflecting criticism from their own favourite. Bombast and hyperbole was rampant. Even the candidates were slinging a bit of mud.
All in all, we didn’t learn much and no one changed their minds. It seems to be the status quo. But someone must be changing their allegiance; otherwise what would be the point of having an election. Well, I’ve got it figured out. A sure fire poll, I reckon is accurate. Here is how I stumbled on it.
I started listening to women. My wife the Pearl of the Orient says it isn’t true. She claims I haven’t listened to her more than once or twice in nearly forty years of wedded bliss. I had to explain it was other women I was listening to- eavesdropping actually. Husbands and wives aren’t supposed to listen to each other.
I started picking up these tidbits while waiting at the checkout, picking up the mail, paying my Stupid Tax at the 649 counter, or offering refills to the ladies crowding the front table at the Bakery in Drizzle Creek. I started keeping track.
“Did you see that hunky John RiffRaff outside the post office this morning,” gushed one lady of maturing years.
“My yes! Those flowing locks of glistening silver. I’d sure like to run my fingers through his hair,” replied a companion letting out an audible sigh.
“Well I like that Kenny BiffBoff. He has that cute little wave of hair flipping down over his forehead and such a lovely smile,” said a third and with a giggle added, “He’s single, you know.”
“That Rusty Lusty seems like a very nice young man,” observed another thoughtfully.
“Too young. He’s just a baby. You’d have to spend all your efforts mothering him,” snorted a Red Hatter obviously fed up with raising kids and ready to wear purple.
“Well how about that Ricky Oldmann. He’s a mature military man. I always was a sucker for a man in a uniform” wondered another wag, dreamily running her tongue over her lips.
“Nope! He’s overweight and overbearing. Just like my second husband when he’d had a belly full of beer,” snapped an obviously bitter matron.
“And that leader of his Stephen Heartless with his school boy good looks. Reminds me of that boy that had his way with me back in school. (Gasps all round) Lied to me and dumped me. Broke my heart. How could you trust a man that perfect,” the tirade continued. ‘Hell hath no fury like a women scorned’ and all that.
I was receiving some hostile looks so I drifted out of earshot, but I’ve been keeping score and the prediction is, RiffRaff edging out BiffBoff by a hairdo. Oldmann will be a distant third- broken hearts are vindictive, and Rusty Lusty could make a surprisingly strong showing if the empty nest syndrome kicks in.
Statistically, this poll is considered accurate within 50 percentage points, ten times out of twenty- maybe.