Dino diary rich in angst, ballot envy
From the secret diaries of Dino Rossi*
(*As leaked to Newsweek magazine.)
Wednesday, Dec. 29
Dear Diary,
Cried myself to sleep last night. Couldn’t help it.
I won the first count. I won the machine recount.
I had already mentally moved into the Governor’s Mansion and ordered new drapes.
Then this ridiculous hand recount has me losing to Ghastly Gregoire by 129 votes.
Well I’m not going back to putting balloons on open house signs. I’m the Washington governor, dammit.
Sunday, Jan. 16
Dear Diary,
The woman has no shame. She took over the inaugural governor’s ball the way Patton took over the Germans. And all those beady-eyed Democrats, scurrying around the Capitol rotunda on little rat feet, waiting to nibble cheese from Her Majesty’s hand.
Christine Gregoire plucked my victory from me like a Pike Street Market pickpocket.
It should be me wearing the inaugural ball dress. MEE!!!
Tuesday, Feb. 1
Dear Diary,
Called Gregoire’s office from a pay phone again. “I want to speak to Governor Rossi,” I said. Hilarious.
I covered my mouth with a handkerchief to disguise my voice, but I think the receptionist is getting wise.
Before I hung up she said: “Get a life, Dino. You’re being an ass.”
Thursday, Feb. 17
Dear Diary,
Lawyers claim the Mariners will probably own a World Series trophy before I get any election do-over. Not to mention that this whole contested election ordeal will cost a fortune.
As if you can put a price tag on a Dino Dynasty.
Plus we’re in a holy crusade to prove that a fraud has been perpetrated. An American election must never be decided by unregistered felons and dead voters.
Unless the felons and dead voters are Republicans, I mean.
Monday, March 7
Dear Diary,
Drove through Seattle today with the car radio blaring. A classic rock station was playing this incredible song. I didn’t catch all the lyrics, but it seemed like Karen Carpenter was singing straight into my soul.
“Talkin’ to myself and feelin’ old.
“Sometimes I’d like to quit.
“Nothing ever seems to fit.
“Hanging around.
“Nothing to do but frown.
“Democrats and Gregoire always get me down.”
Friday, March 25
Dear Diary,
Behold the Mark of the Beast:
129 129 129 129 129 129 129129129129 …
Thursday, April 13
Am I going crazy? The entire state has been denied the wonders of a Dino Rossi governorship and it’s like nobody cares.
Today at a grocery store this checker called me Mr. Fossi.
Gov. Dino’s first act will be to have the checker’s name “accidentally” placed on the sex offender prison release list.
Sunday, May 22
Dear Diary,
Tomorrow’s the day. Our contested election case begins in Wenatchee and just between you and me, dear diary, it can’t arrive any sooner.
Some party members are starting to whine about the $2 million we’ve shelled out on this. I told them to look at the positives. We’ve forced the devil Democrats to waste even more money than we have.
True, all that we’ve spent means less for our other vital Republican ventures.
Bribing lobbyists, for example.
Honestly, I don’t think I can take another defeat, dear diary. I feel all empty inside, like one of those experimental lab monkeys who never gets hugged.
“Talkin’ to myself and feelin’ ohh-ld.”