The Olympicks finely got under way with all the hoop-law and hullaballoons, and Evas been vibratin’ like a joy buzzer fer days.
This past Sunday she packed up and headed fer Vancoover. Of coarse she don’t eckspect to see the Games, since there ain’t but a few folks lucky enuff or rich enuff to do that.
What she does eckspect to see, if worst comes to worsted, is the inside of a hoosegow.
I’ll lay it out as best I can, but Lord knows it takes a feller braver than me to go puttin’ words in the mouth of Unkle Walts new bride.
Y’see fer the last while or so, Evas been readin’ evrythink she can lay ‘er hands on about the Sufferjets.
In case you dont recall, they was a bunch of Inglish wimmin in the old timey days that got up to all kindsa shennanigins to get the menfolk to treat ’em like reel peepul.
What they hankered after most of all was a crack at votin’, so’s they cud help deside whose in charge of sendin’ the old planet to Hallifax in a handcart.
So they wud go to pollitickal meetin’s and make more noise than the geezers up front bumpin’ there gums. And they done other stuff like chain themselfs up to fenceposts out front of the Parlament.
And danged if it did’nt work. The geezers finely had to give in and say OKay we’ll let you in the club house, but ownly if you promise to keep makin’ our tea.
Thats the short form of things and it ain’t all been smooth sailin’ fer the wimmin, not by a long shot.
But the way I see it is, now they got the vote they gotta be at least partwise to blame fer the mess things is in.
I aint too clear what all this has to do with the Olympickal Games, but Evas of a mind to beleave it does.
So there she is on the main land, fixin’ to do somethink like what the Sufferjet set mite do.
She probly dont want me tellin’ you, but what shes got in mind is to clime up Whissler Mountin and tie herself to the cable car that takes the ski folks up to the top.
And she dont plan to give up till Preemyer Cambell promises to stop shuttin’ down skools and start takin’ care of folks with no place to live.
If that dont work, she figgers he’s bound to give in when the TV shows a bitty wee gal of 80 bein’ drug off to jail fer standin’ up fer the little peepul.
Truth to tell, I cant figger how she’ll get anywheres near Whissler Mountin, whats with the Games havin’ evry kinda seckurity save the Youcon Rangers.
But I’ll say this fer the old trout. Shes got more grit than a floor sander, and she can talk the hind end off the Devil. If anyone can do it, shes the one.