Dear Mayor Leppert,
Hey, Zac Crain here. You may remember me from that time you pretended to remember me, then actually remembered me, but were really remembering someone else. No big deal. There were a lot of bearded magazine editors in that mayoral campaign, who were later bounced off the ballot for — you know what? It’s in the past. Whatever. It got confusing.
So. Your Twitter feed. Sir — can I call you sir? — your tweets are bo-ring. Or, if you prefer, borrrrrrrring. You posted a handful of times in November. Here are two of them:
If you and your loved ones travel this holiday week, my family and I wish you a safe and happy journey.
Thank you to all of our heroes in uniform, both past and present.
3 comments
Why do I imagine that you sometimes talk in your sleep, and it sounds like this:
“four hundred and seventy … four hundred and seventy-one … four hundred and seventy-two … four hundred and seventy three … I’M IN!”
I imagine Mayor Tom talking to himself a lot, much like Mayor Adam West does on “Family Guy.”
I wonder if he keeps a Lite Brite on his desk too.
@Whiskey Tango Foxtrot: Because you’ve been spying on me?