DEFUND THE POST OFFICE

“Yer darn tootin’ I’ll be runnin’ for Manhattan Beach City Council,” my Uncle Clem cried out. “And I got a great slogan, too: A Cop On Every Corner.”

“First of all Uncle Clem, there’s already somebody running as a law and order candidate. We can’t have more than one fear peddler on the ballot,” I replied.

“Well we need law and order in this city. The crime rate is way up; why I saw a guy run a red light on Highland this morning. There’s carnage in our streets; we both saw that poor little squirl git run over yesterday. Them ferners are overrunnin’ our city; fact I saw an e-legal alien in our back yard this morning.”

“That was Anastacio, the gardener, Uncle Clem,”

“Well it’s time to get tough. I might even want to build a wall on Sepulveda. That’d keep out the riff raff,” Clem rejoined.

“I think you’re going too far, Uncle.”

“It don’t matter. When folks get sceered they vote for more police, and I never see’d more sceered folks than Manhattan Beach. They been writin’ in on NextDoor about homeless drug addicts invadin’ the city, gun totin’ gangs roaming the neighborhood. I ain’t never see’d so many signs warnin’ people about electronic security systems. They got sensor lights and cameras; Keep Out signs. I think the sign on Rosecrans should say: Welcome to Manhattan Beach, The Most Frightened City in America.”

“Anyway Uncle Clem, you live in Arkansas so you’re not eligible to run here,” I informed him.

“Dem poly-tishuns do that stuff all the time. I’ll just tell ‘em I took a wrong turn on the Manhattan 10K back in ’92 and I’m just gittin’ back.”

“They check that stuff, Uncle. Besides, I think you missed the deadline.”

“Well I’ll run as write-in. I’m takin’ the gloves off.” He began to get animated, which for Uncle Clem meant going to the refrigerator for another beer. “Git me one of them Thank You MBPD signs. Git me an ALL Lives Matter sign, too. I’m in it to win it. Judging by all the NextDoor posts there’s plenty of racist votes I can git.”

“No, Uncle Clem. Absolutely not.” I jumped up in anger. “Please don’t use that word. It’s uncalled for. It’s better if you say ‘there are a lot of people here who support our president.’”

“I’ll let you be my campaign manager,” Clem calmly offered.

“Okay, well I think you better come up with a better slogan than A Cop On Every Corner. Reminds me of Herbert Hoover.”

“I never did like dem vacuum cleaner salesmen.”

“That’s the wrong Hoover, Clem, but we can probably work something into your platform about too many vaccum cleaners causing noise pollution.”

“Well, how about Defund The Post Office? If we play it like the gum’mint wants, the votes won’t git counted on time and I kin declare myself the winner,” Clem declared excitedly.

“Think about the slogans: Deliver The Mail, Go To Jail; Stamp Out Postal Workers; Manhattan Beach, where the only letters you’ll ever need are MBPD.”

Speaking of noise pollution, just as I was going to respond, the peace and quiet of the neighborhood was shattered by the incessant sound of the leaf blower next door.

“Now there’s an issue we can all agree on. Let’s ban the leaf blower! I’ve got the perfect slogan: Manhattan Beach, Love It Or Leaf It.”