Happy Leapa Year….

I recently got an email (certain you probably did too… seems, like some people, they get around) where it’s all about life being backwards… you would begin life in the coffin, jumping out... A little weak… get stronger… younger… eventually become a kid… hop back in the belly, and then end life as an orgasm… Sounds decent to me!

For whatever reason, I searched for the lyrics of Meatloaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light.. And read.. And enjoyed.. And it reminded me of a great day, age and time.

I missed the GD Iowa Caucus.. And also… where’d they go next? NH? NC? Crap I can’t remember..

I would run on the proposal of mandatory Leapa Year for all…

This is where, starting at the end of your twenties, you get to take off one full year (paid for by slightly higher Social Security taxes) and be a High School kid again. If you have children, we’d boot them out to a camp… and have it be run and monitored by illegal aliens - in return for their one day gaining a Social Security Number.

We’d have the High School cleared out.. And you could go.. Do the things you usedta do.. Which I know could include not going… or if you were one where High School was very painful - then you could take this year to do anything in the hell you wanted. Everyone would receive a measly little monthly stipend, similar to Social Security, but who lived on big bucks back in the day anyways?

I ain’t figured out what to do with mates, if you got one.. I guess you could have a one year “time out” - and return to wedded bliss upon the completion of the year… The Government would mandate your company hold your job for you.

This once a decade thing would be repeated in the last year of your 30’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s.. (If you’re still working at age 70, don’t)..

We could invade the Koo-Koo Drive Inn. We could caravan to the real Drive Inn. We could go to the river and get wasted. We could havea sock hop… tear off fruit loops.. Tee pee houses… we could take Bic lighters to concerts… We could drive across the Mo-Kan border to frequent old joints we usedta frequent when the drinking age was 18, just for old timesake.

We could pass notes… swap spit… make out in the backseat, if we still both fit... We could steam up the windows like they ain’t been steamed up in years… we could put cigarette fuses into cherry bombs and place ‘em on the windowsill of those we’re currently pissed at, or, just for fun/good measure.

We could make GIGANTIC shadows with our bodies on the Methodist Church wall upon the hill. We could get a Mugs Up root beer.. Cruise the square.. Throw our cell phones away… Victor you don’t have a cell phone.. You could throw your cell phones away.. We could go as a group and sit and visit with “the cool parents.” BBQ’s.. Float trips.. Mud volleyball… Karaoke like we did before karaoke was cool.. Bonfires.. Campouts.. A weekend Young Life outing.. Gas would be $.30 a gallon, just for us, just for that year.. Cars would be “from your day”…

At the end of the year, you go back to where you were... Live… rest… and act your age for nine more years… then u getta do it again..

I bet we’d live longer. Hate less. Hurry not so much. Appreciate stuff more. Leapa Year.

What happens in Leapa Year, stays in Leapa Year. When your awakened for the 47th night in a row by Hershel’s snoring, remember :Leapa Year ain’t that far away!.. When you boss chastises you over something you knew he probably would - think Leapa Year.

When you kid has left four days worth of dirty dishes, and six pair of dirty clothes in one nights time - remember Leapa Year is just around the corner..

Please change Georges in the middle of a screw,
Vote for Victor, and Leapa Year too.

Call me…. We’ll begin the campaign.. STerling 1-0637 Love, Victurd.