That Dead Cat Scourge

In local government, there is one basic, yet essential, right: To stand before your elected officials and address them.

As a journalist, as someone who actually has to go cover that, there is a second right that makes it all bearable: The right to be a crazy person while doing it.

To do this though, you will need a few things. White hair, first of all, a lot or very little, and eyebrows the same, preferably like two huge dead albino cats clinging to your face (yes I’m referencing my story. Because it’s important. That’s why.) If you’re a woman, though, and you may be, you should not have eyebrows. They should have been shaved or olded off and then drawn back on.

You should then pace and point with at least two fingers. Demand your elected official speak louder — can’t hear you, you know that. And raise your voice to match theirs, even if it comes to yelling, especially if it comes to yelling. Please yell, but do not be aware of it. Because they need to understand that garbage trucks are going way too fast through town. They’re racing. And the new street lights are yellow. Too yellow. They’ve never been that yellow. You can see that. And you’re plowing my street way too much. How clean does a street need to be? We’re in two wars and a salt shortage. We all know that.

Far too few people take advantage of right number one, and even less of right number two.

That’s why I wrote, “That Cat.” Because that guy is out there. Go to a meeting of your local municipal government and he will be there. He will not swear nearly as much and he most certainly does not have the balls to burn down anything, but you will find him there.

On a related note, I hope it’s not a related note, since this story was published, I’ve received five rejections. Life is cold. Cold.

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