Thursday, June 25, 2009

Our Governor

By now, most of us are aware that South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford was not, in fact, hiking earlier this week. Unless that's what the kids are calling it these days.
This type of event serves to remind us that we are all fallible. That even our highest elected officials are subject to the same flaws and insecurities that plague the unelected masses.
This man, who famously carried live pigs into the Senate chamber as a protest about pork-barrel spending makes mistakes like anyone can.
His wife, though, is nothing like my wife.
If she were, he might have run off to Argentina to meet his girlfriend, but he would never have returned.
A wiser man would have just stayed in South America. A quick Google search has taught me that Argentina is the world's third largest producer of sunflower seeds. The right thing to do, if Mark Sanford's wife is anything like mine, is to just start planting some sunflower seeds and lay low, take on an assumed name, and start over.
I know that all his stuff is still in the Governor's Mansion, but if Mrs. Sanford is anything like my wife there isn't much left that can't be bought back off Ebay (good luck getting that shipped to Argentina) or picked up off the Governor's Lawn (after the flames have been stamped out, of course).
According to the published story, Mrs. Sanford has been aware of this situation for five months.
After five months of wearing a cup and guarding my neck at every moment of every day, I'd be ready to flee the continent for good.
Some people have said that returning and admitting wrong-doing is the right thing to do, but in this case, the "right thing" flew out the window months ago at least.
There is nothing to be gained by returning to South Carolina. Trust me, I live here. The food isn't great, no good concerts ever come here and you can't buy booze after 7pm EST.
Argentina has a whole musical about it.
Flee, Mr. Sanford!
Harvest sunflower seeds and refer to yourself as "Marco".
He should be removed from office for exhibition of such poor planning if nothing else.
What kind of cover story is "taking a hike along the Appalachian Trail", anyway?
The best thing would be for him to see that as a self-fulfilling prophecy, throw some canned goods into a bandana on a stick and wander off into the woods.
History will tell us whether his return home was brave or stupid.
I just know if it was me, they'd finally put the question to rest when my remains were found several hundred years later and identified using dental records.

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