It's Friday the 13th. All over our state, folks are holed up trying not to be noticed by the bad juju sure to come a-knocking. Some are in urban apartments and some are in a trailer at the head of your holler. Some are your next door neighbor.
Like mine. Meat's burrowed deeper than a mole. I knocked this morning but he didn't answer. I rang his doorbell for a solid minute. His TV was on and he never leaves it on if he isn't home. I walked around the house and beat on his back door until my phone vibrated.
It was a text from Meat. "Bad day come back tomorrow" it read.
I guess it's been Friday the thirteenth since election day for a lot of folk, especially the ones who couldn't outvote 13% of Kentuckians. You heard that right, 13% of our population voted for Matt Bevin and that's all it took to win.
How scary is that? More of our state's population had winning bets in this year's Derby than voted for our new governor.
If you're sitting in the Donkey party's headquarters in Frankfort, you're probably wondering how you could lose to a New Hampshire billionaire who lives in Louisville. Maybe one reason is where you're sitting.
Out here in the fields, every day is Friday the Thirteenth when you're dealing with Frankfort. The levels of bureaucratic baloney are heart-stopping. State agencies are fiefdoms of power and corruption. Most state programs are exercises in hoop jumping with nothing to show for your efforts but some signs.
It is the recruitment poster for every government is bad organization in the free world.
That is why only 31% of our electorate show up for a governor's election. You guys have had plenty of time to fix it but have shown no inclination to do so. And fumbled the federal programs that should have worked in your favor.
Of course, it's not all your fault. Those mean old Republicans have had their hand in it too. But you guys wallow in it. You need to get out and see the 21st century. There are way more efficient ways to do things.
It's Friday the thirteenth of November. Never too early to gin up the old War on Christmas. Nothing riles up the selected few like a Happy Holidays greeting. This year Starbuck's is the designated Grinch for the infernally offended to get their righteous indignation on.
I know this because I've seen a video of some fat idiot in a backward ballcap whining like a spoiled brat in the sandbox about his coffee cup not having any ornaments. While I myself choose not to follow the ravings of backward cap wearing men, it appears a major presidential candidate has jumped on board.
The Donald has endorsed said fat loudmouth as his true spiritual advisor and plans on letting him park his truck next to the White House to record his rants once he gets elected.
That's some real Friday the Thirteenth kind of stuff right there.