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Full plate of faux pas and a side of vegetables

I’ve got it figured out. According to recent audit records, Fredonia State was undercharged about $300,000 for water provided by the village of Fredonia. No one seems to have a good answer for what exactly happened.

Has anybody considered that the Russians and Vladimir Putin interfered with the billing process? It’s obvious to my research staff that it’s Russian collusion. And I’ll bet they’re involved in my National Grid report card marks, too.

I turn off lights in our house and I never get an “Excellent” score on my report card while a certain blonde-haired lady always informs me with glee about a better score than me. It’s those @$#% Russians. They’re everywhere.

¯ In recent times, the first ladies of America have been celebrated with much applause. Frankly, I don’t pay much attention to them. I guess Michelle Obama was beloved, Barbara Bush was likable, Hillary Clinton, eh. The one that’s taking a real beating is Melania Trump. She doesn’t get on magazine covers or much TV time. She hardly gets newspaper interviews. She is despised by the media.

I admit it, I haven’t interviewed her because I’m busy with other projects. Another reason for my non-Melania news is that my journalistic credentials could barely get me an interview with former Fredonia village attorney Sam Drayo. The only person I have interviewed for my column is Joe Muscato, and believe me, Joe’s cute but he ain’t no Melania Trump.

I decided to look into this claim that Melania has been treated horribly by the media. My crack research staff found that Melania is treated harshly but other first ladies were also treated poorly.

What you are about to read is a report from my research staff. Now keep in mind, they aren’t the most trusted news source but they’re better than several fake news networks.

My dream team discovered that Martha Washington had her fair share of critics. She was often ripped for her hair always being a mess. Abigail Adams was known as a frump. Dolly Madison got ripped for her cutie pie name and wearing dresses that were too short for a woman her age. And poor Hannah Van Buren. She would frequent the coffee shops of D.C. provoking the snarky question shot her way: Did she look in the mirror before she left the White House today?

¯ You’ve heard about service animals allowed on airplanes, you know, like dogs and cats and yet to come will be a unicorn.

Well, a new level of service animal has been reached. A woman recently escorted a mini-horse to her coach seat on a flight from Chicago to Omaha. The horse’s name is Flirty. Even if the horse could fit into a seat without sticking its hooves into the pretzels of the guy next to the window, you might wonder what about potty time for Flirty? Nothing to fear. It seems as though Flirty the horse stomps her hooves when she he has to use the potty. That’s pretty much the same ritual used by most guys that I know.

I don’t know what the regulations are for service animals but a horse seems too cumbersome. So I thought a tiny animal would fit the bill on my next flight. Why not a cricket, you know something like Jimminy, the one with the top hat and tails who hung around Pinocchio? I could have him tucked into my pocket in a tiny unobtrusive box. I don’t like turbulence so when my flight would encounter a rough patch of air, I could tap the little box and alert my cricket. He would wake from his slumber and sing the soothing strains of “When You Wish Upon A Star.”

But after examining the lyrics of what I thought was a charming song, I have dumped the cricket idea altogether. Look how stupid the entire concept of the song is. “When you wish upon a star.” Do you know what a star is? It’s a huge ball of hydrogen gas that is undergoing atomic fusion, releasing vast amounts of energy. So, what the heck does that gas ball have to do with fulfilling my wishes? No wonder I never got a prom date in high school. I was placing my hopes on a glob far out in space that doesn’t even know that I exist.

Then Jimminy goes on to sing, “Doesn’t matter who you are.” Of course, it doesn’t because the star doesn’t have consciousness. A star doesn’t know the difference between you or Hunter Biden, the Ukrainian natural gas expert. You might as well wish upon a fire hydrant and you’ll have the same chance of getting your wish fulfilled.

I guess I’ll need a new service animal. I’m dumping the cricket idea to fly me to the moon.

¯ Some people are actually worshipping vegetation. This odd devotion to worship plants may have recently started at the Union Theological Seminary in New York. This is true. This tweet was issued by the UTS on Sept.17, 2019. “Today in chapel, we confessed to plants. Together, we heard our grief, joy, regret, hope, guilt, and sorrow in prayer, offering them to the beings who sustain us but whose gift we often fail to honor.” Apparently, they didn’t have poison ivy in mind during this worship.

As a follow-up to the seminarians worshipping and apologizing to plants, NBC is encouraging all Americans go to a website provided by them. They are asking all caring and sensitive Americans to come forward and confess their climate sins, you know those bad, bad things that we all do to make Mother Nature cry.

If you think about it hard enough, you have sinned against Mother Nature and Princess Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring. So, my dear readers, just to get you started on the road to healing your soul that has corrupted the innocent earth, I will list the earth destroying sins that I committed recently. Forgive me, nameless Mother Nature, you sweetheart of an earthly God.

The most obvious of sins against the plants in my home and surroundings is the lawn. I bent down and kneeled upon it being very careful not to damage any of the blades. It was there that I begged forgiveness from my lawn. “Dear grass. I am so sorry that I cut you down yesterday with no concern about your desire to grow into a mature plant where you could thrive and bear seeds in all your glory. I cut your pregnancy short. I destroyed the pregnancy of your future family. We have killing machines named Toro that are designed to bring death rather than life. Forgive me. I have left your clippings laying their struggling for breath and the last traces of life without concern. I should have gathered your forsaken and given them a respectable resting place. But no, I let them lie there and deteriorate and become compost with no dignity.

“We pour chemicals upon you to destroy other life forms that nature has provided but we cruelly condemn to death. The beautiful golden dandelion is Earth’s crown and yet we trash it like a deadly virus. My mother used to cook you, dear dandelion. I confess and plead forgiveness for her.”

Last Monday, I went through the entire day without once hugging a tree. On Tuesday, I stepped out on to the front porch and I thought I noticed the soft maple near the driveway looked a bit droopy. In fact, it dropped a few leaves to the ground. I, being a newly woke sensitive environmentalist, recognized the falling leaves as metaphoric tears. The tree was sad and I had ignored it’s need for love just like any other creature of random mutations of the evolutionary process. I went up to it and hugged its trunk. It stopped weeping but not I, for my environmental sins linger long.

Excuse me as I leave you. I need to ask for forgiveness from a gardune.

Nin Privitera is a Fredonia resident whose column appears the second weekend of each month. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com

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