As soon as I think I’ve got things figured out in the 21st century, there is still frog taxidermy and this.

It was the way he said it. The fully-realized conviction in his eyes, the solemnity of his relaxed eyebrows, his firm lips, which were normally quivering like recently snapped rubber bands moving this way and that. Van Von Simpson II even stood while he spoke. This was beyond astounding, for prior to this moment, he was incapable of standing and speaking simultaneously in the same way most people cannot chew gum.

Not since Abraham Lincoln at the Gettysburg Address or the steroid-riddled Barry Bonds crowding home plate had any man assumed such a heroic stance. Everyone within earshot was attentive. Arrogance that stinks this bad always deserves an audience. Even the deafest man of Kane County made an appearance just to read his lips.

Van snapped out of his trance and gulped, realizing that quite a crowd was gathering. While things were still manageable, he blurted, “For the last 24 hours, I have been crying the tears of truth, weeping salami, man, and sniffling shame. There is too much sorrow in my pants!”

It is always sad when natural charisma is destroyed by shallowness and or a high squeaky voice.