Congressman Rod Blum.
The Blumster. The pride of District One.
When I call his office, his staffers are very nice. I don't know if they listen or care, but they are polite and they have the guts to answer my questions as best they can.
But not old Rod.
This interview reveals much about his character.
From a writer's perspective: He fled the scene. He ran to the hills. He ducked and covered. He cowered in a corner.
He pissed himself like a baby girl. He screwed the pooch. He stumbled into the oblivion of cowardice.
He pooped the top bunk. He shanked the punt. A mutilated structure, destined to crumble. Graced with a sword, worthy of a fan.
He relieved himself of responsibility like a drunkard relieves himself in his underpants. Game over, man, game over. A candy-ass among candy-asses. He forgot to butter his baby-sandwich.
He is an ex-parrot.
The Blumster. The pride of District One.
When I call his office, his staffers are very nice. I don't know if they listen or care, but they are polite and they have the guts to answer my questions as best they can.
But not old Rod.
This interview reveals much about his character.
From a writer's perspective: He fled the scene. He ran to the hills. He ducked and covered. He cowered in a corner.
He pissed himself like a baby girl. He screwed the pooch. He stumbled into the oblivion of cowardice.
He pooped the top bunk. He shanked the punt. A mutilated structure, destined to crumble. Graced with a sword, worthy of a fan.
He relieved himself of responsibility like a drunkard relieves himself in his underpants. Game over, man, game over. A candy-ass among candy-asses. He forgot to butter his baby-sandwich.
He is an ex-parrot.
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