Saturday, 03 November 2007

I spend most of my weekends in the desert doing the things people do in the desert like communing with Nature. I do this all the time. Nature and I are practically Communists. (We're that close.) When I'm in the desert I remember being Communists in the desert before: like this one time when I was thirsty and I needed water and saw this cactus and I ate it. Then there was the time I was thirsty but didn't see a cactus and was thirsty for a long time. I remember that time fondly. I walked up a trail and had a vision. It was moving and I was moved and then I moved along. I took my thirst with me. There was a rabbit on the path ahead that didn't look thirsty. It was a fine rabbit. I followed it. Two hours later I saw it commune with other rabbits and a man who looked suspiciously like Michael Bérubé. I asked this man for water and he brandished a hockey stick and said: "What about ice?" I said: "Ice would be fine." "Because I play hockey on ice with rabbits who aren't thirsty." I said: "I envy those rabbits." The man who looked like Bérubé shot me a glance like Ira Glass and I was scared of rabbits and ran away thirsty. The hair on the back of my neck stood up as I ran down the path willy-nilly and very thirsty and then I tripped and fell down a deep magnificent hole. As I plunged to certain death I admired my hole's depth and thought "What a wonderful bottom to splat on!" I fell and fell and then when I felt I could fall no more I noticed I wasn't falling. The rock I'd tripped over had tripped too and landed where my head fell. My ears were ringing and I could see on my laptop that I could not be The Best 2501-3000 this year. It was then that I realized that Chris Clarke should win and that votes for me were taking away from his commanding lead. I looked in the mirror and saw my Inner Nader and pledged something importantly Communist for the common good of the desert and the rabbits and my thirst. (Note: If this makes no sense to you read this and this.)

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