Ty’s Oregon Voters’ Guide 2000
Want somebody to tell you how to vote? Of course you do! You probably just don’t want it to be me. Oh well, one out of two ain’t bad.
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Want somebody to tell you how to vote? Of course you do! You probably just don’t want it to be me. Oh well, one out of two ain’t bad.
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Windoze /Win’doz/ v. 1. To be completely and utterly screwed, usually by Microsoft. Ex: My operating system just crashed (again). I sure am Windozed.
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Compiled during seven weeks in France during the summer of 2000. I attack all manner of topics from the vantage point of an American in Paris, a status made obvious by my white tennis shoes, lack of a poodle, and inability to keep from showering once a day. The resulting treatise is both required reading for doctorate level Franco-American political science students and the reason France pulled out of NATO.
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If you’re feeling trapped in your career, imagine the vice president. No matter what he says or does, there’s no escaping those pesky 1996 campaign finance irregularities. Note to Al: 18 minutes of blank tape didn’t help Nixon; three years of deleted email won’t help you.
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You didn’t really expect me to shut up did you? Poor, poor you. Poor, poor, stupid you.
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My case for George “Dubya” as Bush-lite: A third less IQ points than your regular presidential candidate and definitely less fulfilling.
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A rambling introspective on turning 31, the nature of God, and love of neighbor. (This work could be subtitled “Thus ends my political career.”) If it leaves you as lost as a puppy in a sock factory, well, you’re not the only one. Bottom line: I’ve suffered for my writing. Now it’s your turn.
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You’ve Got Mail isn’t the worst romantic comedy I’ve ever seen, but somebody’s got a screwy idea of love, and I don’t think it’s me. If anyone needs proof that bad screenwriting and directing outweight good costuming and set design, here you go.
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Yes, I turned this in. I was on a deadline. Another “masterpiece” from the late ’80s.
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I wrote this back in college circa 1988 during my younger and dumber days. Well, younger anyway. I wouldn’t publish these now except that my friend Dave thinks they’re all right. I think Dave might have been “younger” then, too. Regardless, Cornflakes is about the steady decline of the country from the perspective of someone who remembers how it used to be. Clearly, that’s not me, but lack of experience has never stopped me before, and it sure didn’t here either.
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