The Freelance Retort: Impeachment and me

I may have been a little hasty in my rush to claim full and complete exoneration, a few weeks back.

Yeah….

Especially since full and complete pretty much mean the same thing.

Apparently, there are some obstruction of justice issues, still on the table.

Like my dirty breakfast and lunch dishes.

And possibly a late night snack or two.

Possibly.

Z said there’s no justice in that…especially since she knows I know she can’t stand a messy kitchen and I expect she’ll clean it all up in the morning.

Along with all the dirty laundry left on the floor, which Z hates, especially since most of it belongs to my friend Vladimir, who dislikes going to the laundry mat.

Vlad say's he's above all that, and I believe hm.

I have no reason not to.

He' was very forthright and genuine when I looked him right in the eye and asked him about it.

Z also says there’s definitely no justice in my languishing in bed long after she’s up at 5 AM and out the door by 7 to save lives at the hospital.

Picky, picky, picky….

She has no idea the energy one expends when one’s duty is to entertain the masses…once in a while…from time to time.

I suppose it doesn’t help my defense when she arrives home at 5 PM and finds me back in the bed topping off the last stages of my afternoon nap, again, refreshing the ol’ “thinking cap”.

But, hey, like I said, she just doesn’t understand how difficult it is to think up clever nonsense, all day long.

I mean, even regular nonsense is hard to come by, let alone clever.

You just hope no one can tell the difference.

So, now, she’s talking about starting impeachment proceedings against me, which is just silly talk.

She’ll never get the votes to convict.

Even if she says, like in most things, she always has one more vote than whatever I claim to have.

But I say, bring it on.

I have no worries about impeachment; none whatsoever.

I have the house locked up.

Literally…locked up.

No one’s getting in that door.

Or so I thought.

I forgot; Z has a key.

A long ago mistake I’m still paying for.

But she insisted.

Impeachment…give me a break.

Makes no sense.

Makes no damn sense…especially since I did nothing wrong…for the most part.

Seriously, how do you impeach the guy who mows the lawn…at least once a month…usually?

Even in the summer…when it’s real, real hot out.

Or pretty hot out.

But not too hot.

Or brings the snow shovel up from the basement after a big storm.

I’m not sure Z even knows where the snow shovel belongs in the basement, except when she trips over it, after I leave it out for her in the middle of the laundry room.

So unfair.

Such a WITCH HUNT!

No other husband should have to go through this type of husbandal harassment, ever again.

She’s just bitter over losing the election about the size of the new TV.

Sure, maybe she had more votes but I won the all-important Electrlonical College, when I snuck out and bought it anyway.

And please, don’t even start with all that outside interference from a proven adversary, nonsense.

Sure, Z never saw eye to eye with Vlad, but he offered—I didn’t ask—to help me pick up that new150 inch ultra-High Definition, in his big, all terrain buggy.

What was I supposed to say…no?

He said he had a connection and could get me a great deal on a Samsung.

Who wouldn’t accept an offer like that?

Ya gotta love it…right?

And now Z says I’m out of control. That I never follow proper procedures and act as if the rules don’t apply to me.

Which they don’t.

Duh….

Rules are for suckers.

I make my own rules.

Except when it comes to the mail.

I’m not allowed to touch the mail…EVER…UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

Not making that mistake again.

Z claims the screen is waaaaay too big for an 8 X 8 foot room and is insisting I take it back.

Right…like that’s gonna happen, after I took out one of the windows…even if I could get Vlad to return my calls.

She said Morning Joe’s head is 6 feet tall and looks ridiculous!

To which I pointed out, Morning Joe’s head actually is 6 feet tall, and it is what it is.

So there’s a lot of animosity driving all this impeachment talk.

WITCH HUNT!

To be honest—or as my bug-eyed lawyer likes to say, as honest as is possible, today…or tomorrow…or the next day…or something like that—this whole thing is a made up hoax to get me out of office…or at least out of bed, in the morning….

And I never tried to get my brother-in-law fired.

It was just a suggestion….

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