As self-appointed president of my Park City Family Values Party, I’m changing the name again to simply the Values Integrity Party, seeing no reason my values shouldn’t be everyone’s, and I like the VIP next to my name — in a parade, or maybe on my new plane.
I heard readers expressed interest in Buffy and Lulu from my May 10 letter. I’m sure sharing my suspicions about the tiny tykes association with the undocumented sandhill crane migrants, a group I’m labeling Avian Nefarious Terrorists Infiltrating Families American.
As my patriotic duty, I grabbed my binoculars which I use for, uh, bird watching, to further surveil these two. I spied the little girls in Lulu’s kitchen huddled around yellow objects resembling hand grenades. Next, they came out of the house and set up a table with a pitcher and glasses. Could it be an anthrax laced liquid?
I rushed to stop them, and the girls unsurprisingly lured me in. “Want to buy a glass?”
Afraid for my life, I interrogated, “What did you put in this drink?” The girls gave me a look like I was stupid. “Lemons, water and sugar.” Sugar: a white powder — like anthrax! I was on full alert. “Can I see some of those so called lemons?” Buffy had a few in her apron, which I closely inspected.
“Aha, Product of California! I consider that a foreign country. Have you paid the tariffs on these lemons?” Buffy’s upper lip started quivering, but I held fast. To avoid trillions of dollars in deficits and still pay for my tax cuts, we need to make up that revenue from other areas, like Buffy and Lulu here.
“Tariffs?” they asked, pretending not to understand, but I pressed on. “Where will you both be hiding the money you make here? Offshore?”
“Offshore?” Lulu retorted,” No, silly, we don’t go off to the shore until July. We put the money in our piggy ban—”
On the verge of writing down their fraud, Lulu’s mother stormed out of the house. “How dare you harass our daughters? You have no right to question their work! Girls, you’re doing a good job. He’s talking nonsense and making things up anyway. California is not a neighboring country, it’s a state.”
Loathing disrespect, I saw my chance: “Actually, I don’t think we’re in disagreement.” I caught her off guard. “I see no reason a neighboring country … couldn’t also be one of our states.”
Brooks Bloomfield
Park City