July 24, 2008 in Voices

A brush – almost – with prez candidate

D.F. Oliveria Staff writer
 
Kathy Plonka photo

Assaciate Editor/Columnist Dave Oliveria. KATHY PLONKA The Spokesman-Review
(Full-size photo)

Mamie English-Cisneros, daughter of County Clerk Dan English, came this close to meeting U.S. Sen. Barack Obama during his recent trip to Iraq. Stationed in Ramadi, Mamie suffered somewhat of a brain cramp when she and others in her unit were asked if they were from Illinois, the Demo prez nominee’s home state. Illinois, Idaho, Iowa – what’s the difference? They get confused all the time. In this instance, only the soldiers from Illinois were permitted to meet Obama, Mamie explained in an e-mail to her proud papa. In this instance, one of the nurses in Mamie’s unit was from Illinois and agreed to take Mamie’s copy of Obama’s book, “The Audacity of Hope,” to the meet-and-greet in case she could get it signed. Now, for an aside from Papa English: “Yes, this is why if you are going to war in a foreign country you should always take a copy of your favorite presidential candidate’s book, just in case they wander by to sign it.” Mamie’s friend did get it signed for her. When she asked Obama to address it to “HM2 English,” he replied, “I don’t call friends by their last name.” So he wrote: “Mamie, I’m proud of you. Barack Obama.” You can bet your last Jefferson nickel that the book will remain an English family keepsake.

Mini-Sturgis 2008

For sheer entertainment purposes, it’s hard to beat the summer announcements from Cruisers tavern at Stateline about the annual Mini-Sturgis bikerfest. This year is no different. Berry Picker KeithinCDA e-mailed the one for Mini-Sturgis 2008 to Huckleberries Online this week. The event, which runs today through Saturday, features tacos from Azteca and porn star Ms. Echo Valley, signing autographs and distributing photos. Ah, we’re not talking about Disneyland fare here. Nor is it a BYOB party. Anyone who tries to sneak his own booze onto the grounds will be asked to leave. Participants are invited to bring their birthday suits to swim in the tavern “ool” (because there’s no “P” in “our pool”). And to join a laundry list of contests including (some can’t be mentioned by name here): Whitest (rear end). Frozen T-shirt. Best Butt Crack. Nicest Cleavage. Wet T-shirt. Ms. Mini-Sturgis. Beer Roulette. Is That Your wife? Duct Tape Bikini. Funniest T-shirt. Who Drove The Farthest. And Nicest Fanny In A Panty. I and my 1970s Schwinn will skip this one – and let the real bikers ride their hogs through the bar.

Huckleberries

At a McMenamins restaurant restroom during my trip to northwest Portland last week, my Amy Dearest spotted graffiti that underscores the smugness of urban Oregonians. The first post notes that the toilet paper in the women’s restroom is from Michigan, complaining, “But we’re in Oregon.” Under which another graffiti writer added: “Yes, but we are snobs who require imported TP” … At the new Bakery by the Lake in downtown CDA, a sign extols the baked goods, including “Artesian Bread.” It’s very moist bread, indeed. But Berry Picker Andrea Rainey suspects it’s made by artisans … Quotable Quote: “I hate HOAs (homeowners associations). Especially the HOAs that are controlled by retirees with nothing better to do than spy on their neighbors or find things to complain about”/Nic Casey, Rants, Raves & Random Thoughts.

Parting shot

In a Huckleberries Online comparison of worst summer jobs, Berry Picker Idawa recalls his summers as a University of Idaho student working for Jacklin Seed’s research farm/Rathdrum. His assignment was to clean the combine to ensure every seed was removed. The process required him to crawl into the hopper and spray it out with pressurized air and water hoses. Recalled Idawa: “It was awful to be inside the hopper, baking in a 100-degree metal coffin with jagged metal teeth poking you in the back spraying dust and seed everywhere.” As bad as Idawa’s experience was, Berry Picker Kendramama’s was worse. As a 13-year-old living in Hawaii, she remembers painting cheesy sunsets and beach scenes on coconuts to sell to tourists. Not so bad, hunh? Well, she had a perv boss who got so handsy that she finally had to tell him what he could do with his coconuts.


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