Jack Elliott

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 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 were rampant. Even the candidates were slinging a bit of mud.

Continuing education was on the agenda around the debating table at the Bakery in Drizzle Creek the other morning. Maury, from the hill country north of Hooterville, broached the subject.
“Have you seen the crop of mushrooms out in the wild the last week? It’s simply amazing,” he stated with wonder as he sucked in his first mouthful of high test.
“You’d better be careful what you go stickin’ in your mouth,” lectured Moose, an authourity on all things wild.

This past weekend was the annual Gathering of Liars down in Drizzle Creek.
No, I don’t mean the participants in the walleye tournament each September, although I must admit those folks are no slouches when it comes to spinning tall tales. They’ll be here this coming weekend—and they’ll certainly have to stretch things a mile or two if they expect to regain championship status.

One of the wondrous things about this season is the bountiful harvest and all the good things you can make to eat (in case you didn’t know, eating is about my most favourite thing—right next to lying).
My wife, the “Pearl of the Orient,” has been trying to discourage this habit (the eating, that is—she’s reluctantly accepted the lying). But things came to a head when I showed up with the latest haul: 30-plus gallons of crab apples.

I headed for the Bakery in Drizzle Creek early one morning because Hydro None had notified us of a scheduled three-hour outage from 9 a.m. until noon—and I wanted to make sure I got my usual fix of caffeine and calories.
The debating table already was pretty well occupied as the early-risers had yet departed for work while some of the regular crew, also noting the scheduled outage, had wandered in early, as well.

The dog days of August are gone and with a nip in the early morning air the usual crowd at the Bakery down in Drizzle Creek had a visible spring in their step as they headed in for the morning debating session. Something was in the air.

Every once in a while, I roll my carcass out of bed early.
Recently, it hasn’t been to accompany, my wife, the “Pearl of the Orient,” to the swimming pool but to wheel my bike around Drizzle Creek in the cool of the early morning . . . and, of course, to stop by the Bakery to see what’s new with the early-risers.

Dear sir:
Wasn’t “Railroad Daze” amazing?
People flooded into our little community and had a great weekend of fun, including a parade, a ball tournament, games, dances, music, amazing radio-controlled aircraft, and model train displays.
Our parks, restaurants, and homes were buzzing with people and activity. Even a rainy Sunday couldn’t stop the ball games, the music in the park, nor the Great Beaver cardboard boat races.

It’s summer and the kids are out of school. It’s time for the annual migration of the gene pool to the grandparents for a few weeks or a few days.
Parents consider this event with mixed feelings.