Kent Bush: Senate race resembles Monty Python skit
Delaware Republican Senate candidate Christine O’Donnell has decided to take on her opponents directly.
“I’m not a witch. I’m nothing you’ve heard,” O’Donnell said in a recent television commercial.
Nixon wasn’t a crook and O’Donnell isn’t a witch.
Times have changed.
Of course the charge of witchcraft wasn’t conjured up by her opponent. It came after a clip of O’Donnell was discovered where she said she dabbled in witchcraft on national television. She also claimed to have tried to become a Hare Krishna, but she liked meatballs too much.
This isn’t a creation of Sarah Palin’s lamestream media. O’Donnell said it all herself.
Now she is basically saying, “All of those things I said aren’t true.” That’s interesting strategy.
But there is a tried and true method for determining for certain if O’Donnell is a truly a witch. If she weighs as much as a duck, then she floats. If she floats she is made of wood. If she is made of wood, she is a witch. So we should burn her at the stake. With apologies to Monty Python, that still makes more sense than the actual debate in this race.
With O’Donnell trailing by almost 20 points less than a month before the election, it may take more than an eye of Newt (Gingrich) to find enough magic to win this race.
I learned a lot flying to Chicago and back this week for a quick business trip.
I always checked my toiletry bag before. But I was determined to carry on all of my luggage this time.
It was a good idea that I didn’t execute very well.
Apparently you have to pack all liquids in containers smaller than 3 ounces, and all of them have to fit in one zip top bag.
Mine were packed very neatly in individual compartments in my bag. So the transportation safety agent at the Wichita gate let me know I was a serious offender.
She took every bottle and tube out that my wife and I had accumulated over several years. The agent was not pleased with me.
So then I became a "Price is Right" contestant choosing which of my liquids I wanted in the bag.
This one, that one, that one, definitely that one and before you know it, everything was in the bag. Everything, that is, except for a few of my wife’s tiny bottles of lotion.
The passengers were now safe. My wife’s terrorist scented lotions were in a trashcan and I was on my way.
On the trip home, I discovered another interesting fact.
I was traveling with a couple of my publisher friends. We moved from gate to gate hoping and praying United would find a plane to bring us home.
Delays of more than 90 minutes are never fun.
But as our plane finally reached the gate, the agent announced that we would have to “gate check” any bags because there was not enough room on the regional jet for carry-on luggage. Therefore, we all needed to pick up green bag tags to make the process work.
So Jessica and I walked up to the desk and requested a tag for our bags.
We were the only two who did so.
That’s when the agent made this announcement. “There is no need for all of you to stampede up here for bag tags,” she said.
So now I know that Jessica and I constitute a “stampede” in airline lingo.
That’s good to know.
But I did catch one break. Sometimes your fellow passengers can talk your ears off on the flight.
I had plans to read a book or listen to my audiobooks while we were in the air. I didn’t want to get seated by Chatty Cathy or her husband Talkative Tom.
So when the gentleman approached my aisle, I wondered what I was in for.
It turns out he spoke very limited English, as his main language appeared to be a Chinese dialect.
So I offered him a piece of gum, received a thankful thumbs up, and we enjoyed the rest of our flight in peace and quiet.
I never imagined a day in my life where being seated next to a man who spoke Chinese would be counted a blessing.
Life is funny sometimes.
Kent Bush is publisher of the Augusta (Kan.) Gazette.