Our Internet service has been hit and miss for the last three days.
On top of that, Girl from the East and I have come down with some freakish summer virus. Worst. Ever. Chills, aches and all that. On top of that, Mr. Husband is gone again for a conference. Do I have a day pass to whine?
The most I’ve done is park in front of the TV and watch the world go by through the fuzzy filter of NyQuil.
So, when the haze lifted, I realized I wasn’t hallucinating. Our mayor did spend a night in jail. Somehow this man, Mr. Kwame Kilpatrick, who won the Golden Ticket in 2002, now faces a handful of criminal charges, while the rallying cry for his resignation or at least temporary departure from office has risen to a fever pitch.
In light of all this, he was asked politely by the courts to seek permission before leaving the metropolitan area. Somehow he was spotted enjoying a water park in Canada with his family. He explained all this after the fact by saying that he raced across the international border to attend to some urgent city business. Business so urgent there was no time to consider contacting the court. Yet, enough time to grab swim trunks and goggles.
Through my cold-medicine induced haze, I cannot help but think of Augustus Gloop, the pride of Dusselheim and special guest of Willy Wonka, who couldn’t control his urges either and ended up over his head in a pool of brown gunk, drowning in his own hubris.
It’s supposed to be chocolate, but you can do your own interpreting here.