The monkey has taken the broom. Roger.
Sorry. As I write this column filled with keen political observations about Colorado Republican candidate Dan Maes and his unusual quest to become our governor, I'm also working undercover for the Kansas Bureau of Investigation and will communicate with my boss in code embedded into the story. Frankly, you probably won't even notice.
Gaspar has eaten the cheese. Marigold! Marigold!
Anyway, other than George W. Bush, Maes is the most curious candidate for political office in American history. And down the stretch they come. The marmot peeks out from beneath the rock. Helen.
We made fun of Maes after he called the Denver bicycle program a bid by the United Nations to take over that city. We made fun of him when he took a $300 cash donation to help with his house payment. Do not take the name of the Lord in vain. Neither the name Chester. Repeat, neither Chester.
When Cashgate hit the Denver Post, Maes tried to repay the $300 by putting a personal check in the woman's purse. However, Maes — I am not kidding — did not sign the $300 check, either because he didn't have the money in his account or, more likely, because he couldn't recall his own name. The elk is sliding into home. He's safe! Elk win the pennant! Elk win the pennant!
But now we have the funniest story of all for Maes, nominated by the bright and highly respected Republican voters in Colorado because their first choice — the father of Balloon Boy up in Greeley (that family just moved to Florida, where they'll fit in) — was too busy flipping his index finger across his lips and making a motorboat sound.
Billy, can you find the hypotenuse? It seems Maes served a brief stint as a police officer in Liberal, Kan. (town motto: Don't Let the Name Fool You) and stated on his website that during that time he worked undercover in a gambling and drug case for the Kansas Bureau of Investigation. Maes' story would be more intriguing if it had actually happened. From KBI director Bob Blecha, to the Post: "He did not work for us or with us on an investigation."
From Maes, when confronted about the undercover claim: "Those comments might have been incorrect comments."
Did he write the claim (which has since been removed) on his website? "Whoever typed it, typed it. That's all I've got to say," said Forrest Gump. I mean Maes. The donkey is on the roof. Rain in Spain. Mainly on the plain.
Being a lamebrain is not Maes' fault. This summer he told a reporter that his parents were "not the brightest folks around," reminding us of the Latin phrase fallum appelus non farus fromm treeus.
But Maes is nothing if not persistent. He once spent 14 straight hours working on a Sarah Palin Rubik's Cube (all six sides are orange). Last week all of the intelligent and important state Republican leaders climbed out of their Mini Cooper and begged Maes to drop out so they could replace him with, in strict legal terms, a non-lunatic.
Maes told them to stuff it and was officially placed on the ballot last Friday, along with third-party Mensa Club member Tom Tancredo who, if he wins, will not have a mariachi trumpet band at his victory party. (Tom hates Mexicans. Sshhhhhhh!)
"I cannot turn my back on the 200,000 voters who nominated me to run for this office," Maes said.
What he failed to mention is that when they voted in the primary they didn't know he was a nut. What the voters did know was the other candidate, Scott McInnis, had been exposed as a plagiarist, having stolen entire paragraphs of another person's essay about water rights and passed them off as his own.
(McInnis issued a statement this week, saying: "I'll make him an offer he can't refuse. May the force be with you. Four score and seven years ago...")
So it's Maes and Tancredo on the November ballot against Denver Mayor John Hickenlooper, whose main job at the three-way debates is trying not to blow a mouthful of water out of his nose any time Maes or Tancredo speaks.
The goose honks in the morning. Everybody out of the pool. Roger.