Humor in politics is easy to find, but you must be willing to get your hands dirty while writing about it.

The name of the device that’s placed on your vehicle to prevent it from reaching its full-potential is called a governor. Can also be applied to state politics.

It’s been a long time (at least seven-years) since anyone has considered me a reporter, journalist, or what have you. It’s also been a long time since I’ve written anything about politics, though that’s how I made my ‘bread and butter,’ in the past.

But then, a former ‘source’ has reached out to me, saying how they’ve overheard from various Congressional staffers that Speaker Pelosi is giving ‘special consideration’ to Governors for a continued effort to prolong their state’s shutdowns until November. We concluded that while neither of us know what a ‘special consideration’ might be in this case, we did agree that the idea ‘to prolong’ shutdowns are to cripple or destroy the US economy, using this against the Trump reelection campaign.

Afterward, I got to thinking: could this be the reason why, here in Nevada, so many people, including myself, after fifty-plus days of a state mandated shut-down, are still unable to access our state’s unemployment services via the telephone and have yet to actually see a penny of our unemployment benefits?

Then there are the times when I hear a really good story … and give that ‘cat’s tail a twist…’

“Really?” Tom complained, even though his car was empty, “A dark, rainy night, on a dead-end street and no lights anywhere. Great!”

That was his view from the front seat as he made the corner. At the end of the street stood a lone house, one that was not lighted and which looked more than frightening.

Tom took his foot off the brake pedal and allowed the car to venture forward on its own. He felt a sudden, but strong twist in the bottom of his stomach as he drew up to the front of the building.

He pushed the recall button on his cellphone to notify the customer that he was out front of the house and waiting. There was no answer.

“How long do I wait?” Tom wondered aloud, looking at the car’s clock-radio.

After three-minutes, he redialed the number. Still no response.

“Okay,” Tom concluded, “Two more minutes and then I’m pulling away.”

A sudden flash of lightening illuminated the entire area.

The sight of the woman’s face filling his driver side window caused him to scream, “HOLY FUCK!”

She opened the back passenger door, “Sorry to have scared you, but I can’t find my cellphone and I live in the cottage across the street from the main residence. I sure hope the power is on downtown.”

“No problem,” Tom said, as he battled to regain his composure.

First it was the ‘Corona Virus,’ then ‘Murder Hornets.’ If ‘Flying Monkeys,’ show up — I’m outta here.

I never pay attention to my haters. In fact, I don’t even bother ignoring them.

People who pronounce ‘vase’ like ‘voz,’ deserve to be punched in the ‘foz,’ instead of the ‘face.’

Another way a horror story comes to my mind…a photograph taken…

They set up their tent under a nearby tree. After a day of playing in Frenchman Lake and then having a dinner cooked over the open campfire, they retired to get some sleep.

A slight breeze blew throughout the night and this created a plethora of tiny noises. At one point, Tom sat up, resting on his elbows to listen to what he though were footsteps come from jus’ outside the tent wall.

He touched his Colt .45, wanting to make certain that he knew where it was, jus’ in case. But the night passed without incident.

Slightly after sunrise, Tom got up to re-stoke their campfire and make a pot of coffee. Once finished, he noticed that the tree that they had set up under seemed to be farther away from their campsite than the day before.

They spent the day and evening once again enjoying the lake, floating off short, splashing around, and getting sunburned. Again they prepared dinner over their blazing campfire.

That night and into the early morning hours, there were more noises, more odd sounds, strange foot-steps coming from behind their tent. This time, Tom decided to get up and with gun in hand, investigate.

There it was – the tree they’d been camping under — sneaking back from having taken a private dip in the lake.

My wife is digging a grave-sized pit, claiming she has some planting to do. Must be the full moon.

My most useless purchase of 2019? A 2020 Day Planner.