A Little Hard Work, & Voting in the Free State of Florida (posted 8/21/26)

I didn’t write a column this past Monday, because I’ve been running non-stop for the last couple weeks, getting my college rental house ready for the turnover to a new set of tenants.  I’ve been so tired that I couldn’t even muster some snarky political commentary before falling asleep.  

Things weren’t helped any by the way I made a lot more work for myself at the last minute.  I needed to have three big trees trimmed on the lot my college house sits on.  The tree guy’s bid was a lot higher than I had expected, so I negotiated the price down by having him just drop all the limbs on the lot, so I could take them to the dump myself, and maybe get some good firewood out of it, too. 

I hadn’t thought about the timeline, though.  (I blame all the time I spend reading about our political scene, which has likely shaved off more than a few IQ points.)  That house is on a double lot on the edge of campus (Go Gators!), and I’ve got 30 parking spots, which turn over at the beginning of a new school year, too.

When I drove up to the house after the trimming, I saw a giant mound of limbs in the parking lot, and wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew.  Then when I drove further into the lot, I saw two more giant mounds, covering about 10 of my parking spots!  And I had less than two weeks to get rid of all that stuff, during the hottest part of the year. 

Long story short, I chainsawed and loppered my way through that fortress of downed tree limbs, and ended up taking 8 truckloads of either firewood or small stuff to our house, and 17 truckloads to the dump!  Then I rented a big log splitter to handle all of the firewood.   Given what I spent on gas and renting the log splitter, plus whatever my time is worth, I probably saved about 17 cents, and was lucky to not reinjure my neck or spine! 

(By the way, my spine is doing well, for those of you who asked.  I’ve had a follow-up MRI and my final appointment with the surgeon, and he confirmed that my magical body is indeed slowly absorbing the part of the disc that had broken off, and that I won’t need surgery.  Unless I do something stupid like chainsawing several hectares of trees, and then humping them back and forth to a log splitter during a few days with heat indexes around 110, I mean.) 

But as you know, we Simpsons are working dogs, not show dogs.  (And definitely not socialists, sitting around collecting assistance “according to my needs!”) 

And on the positive side, I now have enough firewood for the next seven harsh, north Florida winters.  (Stop laughing.)

In other personal news, the Smoke-show wife and I voted this week.  And because we are in the free state of Florida with the best governor in the land, things went smoothly and efficiently.

I mean, after I went to the correct voting location. 

I first went to the same place I voted in 2024, but for some reason our designated location has changed.  So when I showed my ID – because I’m not a Somali fraudster in Minnesota, or a corrupt Chicago ward-heeler, or a California ballot-harvester bringing in a thousand phony ballots that all list the same vacant lot as their residential address – the nice lady told me that I was at the wrong location. 

And gave me a receipt that confirmed that fact, along with the address of the correction location.

So I went to the right place, showed my ID, filled out my ballot and dropped it in the secure machine, which then registered my vote.  Three minutes, in and out, no funny business, mischief, tomfoolery or shenanigans.  

Just clean elections.

And I was happy with the results – which were available that evening, not two months later!  (I’m looking at you, California!)

Byron Donalds is going to be our next governor, and Ashley Moody is going to be our next senator.  On the Democrat side, TDS-riddled creep Alex Vindman spent 16 million dollars, only to get trounced by a little-known fringe character named Angie Nixon.  She’s a triple threat – a socialist, a whitey-hater, AND a mental case. She’s best known for that time she protested DeSantis’ new, brilliant congressional map by stomping around the House floor screaming a bunch of nonsense through a bullhorn.  

By the way, do these people think that yelling something through a bullhorn makes it sound smarter?  Because it most definitely does not. 

Static, then distorted bullhorn voice: “What do we want?”  

Dimwitted mob response: “Gobbledygook!”

Bullhorn voice: “When do we want it?”

Dimwit mob: “Argle bargle!”

Bullhorn: “What? No.”

Mob: “What?”

Bullhorn: “I said Wh—[screeching feedback]”

Mob (flinching, then covering their ears):  “Aiieeeee!!”

I’ll bet if you read the Gettysburg Address or the Beatitudes through a bullhorn it would sound like a Que Mala speech.

Well, not that bad.  But worse than it should, anyway.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, election day.

The only bad news was the expected part: lefty weirdos won a bunch of the local elections.

Because: college town.

During election coverage in November, look at north Florida on the map.  We’re the tiny dot of blue in a sea of red in level-headed north Florida.

But at least I’m price-gouging a bunch of the young knuckleheads on primo parking spots close to campus. 

Have a great weekend, and I’ll be back with my usual high-quality column on Monday, once I’m better rested.      

Que Mala/Crockett, 2028!

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