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Summit Up

Summit Daily/Mark Fox

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column that absolutely, categorically and emphatically refuses to talk about politics. Nope, not a word. In fact, we won’t even mention that word again; from here on out, we shall refer to the process by which candidates vying for public office garner votes as “mo’huzzlin’.”

The mo’huzzlin’ world is a strange one, we have observed, where what one says is not necessarily any reflection on the reality that was or might be. The very practice (art?) of mo’huzzlin’ has more to do with verbal tap dancing than it does with, say, statement of fact. As a professional mo’huzzler, you could, for example, note that your opponent is a chronic gambler, even though he can prove he only drove up to Central City once while his folks were in Colorado just to show them around.

You could, as a veteran mo’huzzler, lay claim to vast experience due to all your years of mo’huzzlin’, even though it seems clear you just sorta coasted along and didn’t do a whole lot. The experience your opponent has, no matter how great or varied, can be denigrated to the triflings of a dilettante because it wasn’t, you will point our repeatedly, mo’huzzlin’.

When practitioners of mo’huzzlin’ get together for a “debate” or, worse yet, a “town hall meeting,” it amuses us greatly since, while the event is ostensibly geared toward an open exchange of ideas and thoughts with the notion that some greater truth about the candidates will be unearthed, nothing of the sort happens. The mo’huzzlin’ just occurs in a different format. It’s like telling actors who’ve been doing the same play for a few weeks to do the piece again, only with different blocking.

But, as mo’huzzlin’ season is starting to wind to a close, we can take solace in the fact that, barring a repeat of 2000, we’ll have everything settled in less than a month now. We can all sigh a big sigh of relief, repair to the bar … and start talking about the 2010 mo’huzzlin’ season.

Painful. But moving on …

Well, according to the elite mainstream media (of which we are not a member; our application was eaten by one of the many dogs in our office), we are all broke. With Wall Street tanking and the rest of the world markets going berserk, it’s time to coat ourselves in bear grease, break out the beekeeper outfits and do the bin Laden: take up residence in a cave to wait all this out.

Anyone know of any good caves around here? Specifically, we’re looking for one that’s free of ursine and pteropine habitants and not already listed by one of the local real-estate agents so eager for a sale that they’re glomming onto old mining claims, shacks, lean-tos and, yeah, caves.

On that note, folks, we’ll say enjoy the last weekend of aspen beauty before they’re stripped for winter. Find a good leaf, iron it into wax paper and drop it by the Summit Up Central Suites and we’ll give you a new pencil or something.

We out.

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