Elections over

Thank goodness it’s over–the election, that is. Now we can get back to more serious and honest items, like cutting the grass.
But, of course, no election is complete with out some post-election analysis. At the Café in Hooterville, the morning after the election, more political experts were gathered around the debating table than at a CBC gab fest.
Opinions undoubtedly were all the more inspired by the latest shipment of extra high-test caffeine enriched cofffe Squint, the proprietor was serving up.
The reasoning for this new potent brew was Squint hoped the hopped up coffee slurpers would blurt out a more honest tally of how many refills they had consumed before their naturally dishonest instincts could veto the truth.
Alas, examples set by the recent political speeches doomed this experiment to failure.
“I told you’s all along Howie Hampster was going to get in by a landslide,” opined Puddin’ Pye, his eyes wild and his hands shaking as he worked on his fourth cup of high-test.
“An the reason is purely emotional. Every one of you’s knows that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ and poor old Howie was so busy tryin’ to lead the rest of the province down the path that he didn’t have hardly any time to spend up in good ol’ Drizzle Creek.
“And well, those folks up to Rat Portage, they didn’t know him at all,” reasoned Puddin’ as he slurped on unabated.
“Well, sir, let me tell you, I don’t quite follow yer reasonin’,” snorted the Hooterville Sage as he expelled a lungful of smoke across the table.
“Simple! With Bull McWhip of the Liperals laying it on steady, day after day, and Miss Demur of the PCs (Politically Crass) yakity-yakking away how she was the second coming, the electorate got to know them too well,” Puddin’ argued.
“And well poor ol’ Howie–nothin’ improves his policies like distance, which explains why he did so well never bein’ here and got totally drubbed by those folks down in Trawna he was tryin’ to get with, up close an’ personal like,” he concluded as he dived into his second order of toast with extra butter and jam.
“I still think Studley Steelbuns–Hooterville’s most eligible bachelor–shoulda run,” purred Slim as he stretched and preened himself (Slim has been looking to take over Studley’s hereto unchallenged dominance).
“Tried our best to get him nominated but Cupcake wouldn’t let me head up his election committee, an’ my sister, Muffin, threw an absolute ’rang when I raised the issue with her,” mumbled Puddin’ as he stuffed the last piece of toast in his mouth.
“Reasoned it was bad enough sharing his talents right here in Hooterville without includin’ every female in Queen’s Park,” he added, holding his cup out for another refill.

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