Here’s a big dose of fake news.
I recently ran into an up-and-coming future local politician with a lot of interesting ideas. We met seated on adjoining stools at a local pub enjoying what used to be called a “brew.”
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This fellow vowed he is going to get into politics in the near future but hasn’t decided which political office he’ll run for. Maybe mayor, maybe Congress member, he said, or maybe it could lead to governor and then who knows where. “Vice president?”
I was struck by his dedication to political issues, which he would outline to me if I promised not to reveal his name. “Not ready to go public yet,” he declared. Fair enough.
He said he admires our new president and added that some of his own ideas for the future were inspired by the recently inaugurated chief executive.
“For one thing,” my newfound acquaintance said, “I like his idea to change the name of 'Gulf of Mexico' to 'Gulf of America.' Why should Mexico get all the credit?”
“Hmmm,” I articulated. I’m not sure where I stand on that issue but I didn’t challenge him.
“I’d go further, though, for around here,” he continued.
“How’s that?”
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“I believe we should change the name 'Lake Superior' to 'Lake Duluth.'"
Whew, that was a new one for me, but I let him ramble on. I’ll paraphrase rather than try to recall his every word. He said it’s unfair that the city of Superior gets all the credit for having the same name as the world’s largest freshwater lake (in terms of surface, not volume) just like Mexico gets all the good vibes from being the namesake of the Gulf.
“It just ain’t fair,” he asserted. “Duluth’s taller, broader and bigger and it’s got way more Kwik Trips than Superior,” he went on. “And look at all the brewing happening on this side of the bay.”
I had to admit that Superior used to be a much better beer town than Duluth. No more?
“If I get elected to political office that’s the first thing I’m going to introduce,” he vowed. “Lake Duluth. It’ll Make Duluth Great Again!”
“Don’t you think the city of Superior would resent this?” I queried.
Taking another sip of brew, he asserted: “Why should they care? They’ve got all the top nuns of the Catholic Church — the Mother Superiors.”
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Flabbergasted, I moved on, asking him what his second issue might be.
“Well, our once and present president wants to secure the island of Greenland for the United States of America,” he asserted.
“Great, I’m all for it,” he went on, “although I never figured out why they call it 'Greenland' when it’s covered over with ice and snow.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I responded. “Maybe 'Iceland' was already taken.”
My new barstool buddy went on to say that in the same spirit as the idea of the United States taking over Greenland, Minnesota should take over Isle Royale in Lake Duluth — “I like to call it that” — pointing out that while Isle Royale is close to Minnesota’s North Shore, it’s the property of the state of Michigan.
“Yup, you’re right,” I had to admit.
“If Michigan won’t give it up, I believe the Minnesota National Guard could easily overpower any of Michigan’s defenses and secure Isle Royale for Minnesota with all the timberwolves, moose and snowshoe rabbits living there in one swell foop.” (Note: He must have meant "fell swoop.")
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I’m not so sure about that, I told him. I was once in the National Guard. These ideas got me wondering what else my newfound political acquaintance might have in mind. “What do you think about the president’s idea to make Canada the 51st U.S. state?” I inquired.
“Makes sense to me,” he responded. “I like to fish up there and I’m sick and tired of having to produce a passport at the border just to troll for trout. But I do wonder how they’d get a 51st star on the American flag.”
He reflected for a moment, admiring himself in the mirror behind the bar before proclaiming: “Hey, if it becomes a state, I could end up governor of Canada.”
I said nothing but ruminated briefly about that idea as I took a final sip. Let’s see, I found myself musing, “O Canada” is the title of the Canadian national anthem. Maybe they should change it to “Oh-Oh Canada.”
“I gotta go,” he suddenly announced, stepping off his stool, remarking as he moved toward the door, “I was happy for all of our fine American dentists, though, when the new president emphasized, ‘drill, baby, drill.’”
Waving, I said, “See ya, I think I’ll stick around a while,” as I signaled the barkeep for a calming libation.
The Trust Project
