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03 Jan 2013
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"Mitt, don't feel bad about losing the election," Ann said. "At least we can take a vacation now." Mitt Romney agreed. "Palm Springs is beautiful this time of year," he explained. "We can stay at the Marriott. After all, I'm back on the board of directors." "Let me call the hotel and make a reservation," Ann told him. A few minutes later, she had good news. They only have 47 percent occupancy right now!" she exclaimed. "There's plenty of room for us!" The Romneys packed their suitcases and were off to the Coachella Valley. When their plane landed, they were greeted by the mayor. "Welcome to the playground of the presidents," he announced. "Or, in your case, the playground of the hopeless presidential hopefuls." As Mitt and Ann got into their limousine, they were overcome by a foul odor. "What's that stench?" Ann asked. "It smells like rotten eggs." "I…
30 Oct 2012
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(Editor's note: This was written by yours truly 14 years ago. [Gack, I feel old now.] We're posting it here, now, because in this age of annoying political phone calls, it still rings true, even if the reference to a CD club is just a touch outdated. Anyhoo, enjoy!) Zzzzzzzzzz. I am very asleep. It is quite warm in this bed, and I am very, very asleep. I love sleeping in. Aaaahhhhh ... "RIIIIIING!" says the phone. I jolt awake, and start cussing out the phone and the dweeb on the other end who dares to call me at this sort-of early weekend hour. "RIIIIIING!" the phone insists. I decide to answer it, because I am awake now. Dammit. "Hello?" I ask, wishing that visions of sugarplums (or whatever) were still dancing in my head. "Hi! Mr. Blegle? My name is Mort, and I am calling to offer you eight…

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