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POLITICS: Perry Hits Rock Bottom By AMBER FERGUSON Disassociated Press Writer AUSTIN, Tx. (DP) -- A new Disassociated Press poll shows Texas voters are disenchanted with once popular Governor Rick Perry. Although Texans reacted favorably to Perry's last executive order--his plan to imprison anyone who mentioned the word "hurricane" within 500 miles of a licensed Houston driver--the requirement that all citizens be vaccinated against Kryptonite poisoning was not as favorably received. Nor was Perry's project to cheer up the state's toll booth attendants, an idea the governor conceived while cruising down a near abandoned Austin tollway on Christmas Day 2006. When Perry cheerfully called to the attendants, "Have a holly jolly Christmas!" as his limo whizzed by, several workers responded with profane hand gestures. Perry called a press conference to address the lack of booth attendant morale. In a speech that moved several AP reporters to tears, Perry lambasted the state's neglect of those who labor deep within Texas roadside stalls. When the House convened for its regular session in January 2007, a bipartisan committee backed by the governor introduced a bill to improve booth conditions. Supporters introduced testimony from attendants and their families. Opponents protested the state should not fund roads it does not own. Supporters amended the bill to include a 3 percent state sales tax increase to finance the purchase of all Texas toll roads. The measure passed four to one. Debate moved to how to improve booth conditions. Even supporters could not agree about the conflicting merits of leather recliners, ambient lighting and bidets. Several interior designers were called to testify, including world-renowned Indoor Environmental Expert, Mr. Gim Meeyoomunee. Garbed in a robe of red silk, Meeyoomunee explained that toll booths historically have a Feng Shui imbalance--a condition often causing inhabitants to become cranky, overweight fans of reality television. Perry's opponents leapt to their feet to protest. The Feng Shui master hummed softly to himself until order was restored, then described the rich, athletic, friendly members of Mensa the attendants could become if the two elements of Feng Shui--wind and water--were allowed to flow through the toll booths. The most vocal opponents stormed out of the capitol and disappeared. The Texas Rangers arrested them later in Las Vegas while they were shooting craps. In a dynamic Power Point presentation featuring a heavy metal score, the Master of the Ancient Arts presented his plan: repaint the interiors a dull gray, install hard, backless stools, destroy all nearby vegetation and reposition the booths so all the windows faced north. The legislature voted unanimously to expend seventy million for the improvements. Zachary Construction Corporation was awarded the bid for the project. Crews received triple pay and completed the Feng Shui improvements in less than fifteen months. In spite of the improved Chi, the attendants were more cranky and profane than ever. They picketed the state capital and bemoaned how difficult it was to collect money through north-facing windows, when three-fourths of the toll roads were in their original positions to the south, east and west. Workers demonstrated how they had to lean out their windows, twist their bodies around the booths and dangle over the roadways like pretzels to make toll change. Perry called the Legislature into emergency session. Lawmakers passed a bill to double the price of Texas scratch-off tickets and pushed through a one hundred million dollar package to move the south, east and west roads to the north of the booths. Zachary Construction crews had completed the first phase of the project--dynamiting and removing the old pavement--when minimum wage workers representing all sectors of Texas commerce arrived dressed as Indians and egged the capitol, then threw thousands of losing lottery tickets into Lake Travis. Lawmakers halted construction of the new toll roads in an emergency session. After most Texas motorists refused to pay for the privilege of driving on dirt, the Legislature laid off the tollbooth attendants and closed the roads. Commuters adjusted by learning to leave for work forty-eight hours early, but the governor's poll numbers plummeted. State treasury funds were so low Perry agreed to suspend construction on a new prescription drug research center at A&M University, the grand opening of which was slated to coincide with 2007 Independence Day festivities. Construction halted the day before flooring installation was scheduled to begin. Perry met with pharmaceutical representatives to inspect the building and found the foyer full of abandoned wood flooring, marble and ceramic tile. When the governor and a Merck rep walked into the main research lab, the rep lit a cigarette and thumped the match into a corner. The flooring installers testified later before the legislature that, had they not been laid off, they would have been present to inform the governor they had stacked the flooring in the foyer because the main research lab was full of fireworks for the grand opening. Although the explosion demolished the building, the governor landed unhurt three hundred yards away on the rock bottom of a small stream. State Farm paid off the building and, with a profane hand gesture, pulled out of Texas for good. Although Perry held several press conferences to inform Texas voters that the twenty percent increase in property insurance rates was due to illegal immigrants crossing the border, his numbers have yet to recover. © Amber Ferguson This essay originally appeared in the Huntsville Item. Copyright retained by the author. JUST FOR FUN: Under the Influence (Mona Schreiber Prize for Humorous Fiction and Non-Fiction) Don't you hate it when it happens? You're minding your own business, going about your normal routine--maybe reading, ironing or paying some bills, when suddenly. ... You get an overwhelming craving for Spam. You drop everything to dig through the pantry, looking for that elusive blue can. Your mouth waters; you fling aside packages of crackers, Twinkies, popcorn ... but alas, no Spam! Your heart beats faster. You ransack the refrigerator, and find only sliced honey ham from the deli--pricey stuff. Blah! You race to the basement and paw quickly through old Y2K rations, though you know it is futile. You have raided this stash before. There is no Spam left. You panic. You must get to the store! Of all the days for the car to break down. You call the bus line, but the Number Nine is not due for another two, agonizing hours. You consider calling a cab, but you're low on cash. You try to go back to work, but can't concentrate. Images of previous Spam sandwiches present themselves for your inspection and dance within your head, taunting you: Spam on white with mayo, lettuce and a dash of lemon pepper; Spam and mustard, tomatoes and black olives; Spam, plain, on whole wheat toast, with a glass of champagne on the side. The images are maddening; the craving is so real it is painful. You could call your sister ... but do you dare? Shaking, drenched in sweat, you misdial the number not once, but twice, as you think back to that night--the last desperate Spam call. She had been furious! Disgusted to hear your pleading voice at 3:00 a.m., promising her anything if only she would bring over a can. I can't believe this is happening again. As you begin the ten block walk to the store, memories of your senior year in college emerge. I had to have it--had to! I'd have never made it through those late night cram sessions without it! The worried look on your roommate's face, the night you clung to your can of Spam, passing up a piping hot pizza, flits before your eyes. ... Mother, I swear the turkey was wonderful! Your mother's hurt expression when she found you hiding in the guest room, with a plate of stuffing and three generous slices of Spam, pops into your thoughts. ... I'm sorry! Pl-e-e-ase! The aching memory of your husband packing, screaming he could not live with a woman who would falsely claim pregnancy just to cover up a ten can Spam binge, explodes within your soul. Too excruciating to bear, you stop dead in your tracks, smack in the middle of a busy intersection. A BMW slams on its brakes. You drop heavily to your knees, sobbing, mindless of the screeching tires and cars slamming into each other in order to avoid you. The police will be arriving any moment--they will notify your husband, your mother, your sister ... soon they will all know. Despite your best intentions, once again, Spam has become your master. Suddenly, something inside you snaps. No, no, NO! Your willpower, that paltry, nonexistent force, at last rises up in a magnificent rebellion. You raise your bleary eyes toward the glory of the noonday sun and feel the power of the artificial meat weaken. It crumbles, crushed by your emerging strength. You rise to your feet, shaking but confident, dazed but ... free! Free from the grip of the spicy meat, a hold even electric shock treatments hadn't broken! That door has been shut. You are free! A new life begins for you. Without the influence of Spam restraining you, your creative genius emerges. You develop cures for the common cold, cellulite and athlete's foot. Five years pass--you are the CEO of the fastest rising company in American history. A pharmaceutical giant offers you millions for the formulas. As you lower your pen to sign the contract, the deal of a lifetime, a long quenched memory of anchovies on a bagel, topped with Spam and melted mozzarella, suddenly slams into your brain. Your speech begins to slur from the drool and, unable to understand you, they believe you have backed out of the sale. You are ruined. You don't care. The pen lies abandoned on the contract, as you rev your engine and speed recklessly toward the nearest supermarket. You've become a statistic: another wasted life, consumed by Spam. Don't you just hate it when that happens? © Amber Ferguson This essay is online at: Mona Schreiber Prize. Copyright retained by the author. |
Been meaning to tell you ... how much I enjoyed your satire ... too bad such good humor has to contain some truth ... very enjoyable ... excellent work. --Huntsville Item reader, 2007 Amber Ferguson's column in last Sunday's Item ... was the best satire I have read in a long time. I enjoyed it so much I copied it for some of my kinfolk and friends. As an avid reader and sometimes contributor to the Item, I really enjoy someone who injects some humor into the otherwise sad or sordid news. ... I give her a "thumbs up" and hope she will continue to give me something to look forward to. --Huntsville Item reader, 2007 (Letter to the Editor) What a great story. I laughed until the tears rolled. --Editor, 2004 You are a nut! Thank you for the big laugh you gave me ... you made my day! --National radio personality, 2000 Amber ... I really think you should do political satire on the editorial page. ... I wrote a weekly political column for several years, but now devote my time to books. As you likely know, Molly Ivins died this year. I think you could rival her in political satire ... you're only problem could be a conservative outlook-liberal publishers prefer liberal writers. --Huntsville Item reader, 2007 ...Your entry blew me away. --Contest judge, 2004 Spam, wonderful Spam! --Reader, 2004 |