Summit Up |

Summit Up

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column listing all the things in life that stink.

Today’s opening line might lead you to believe we’re having a bad day. Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s not, however, the best day. We have yet to find any briefcases of money, pro wrestling is still on TV (and being watched in our White House, no doubt) and David Hasselhoff has not responded to our marriage proposal (for the sixth time!).

But, like we said, it’s not a bad day, either. Gravity is still in working order, the climate is pleasant (once you forget that your nose and sinuses are filling up with soot) and David Hasselhoff has not responded to our marriage proposal (we weren’t exactly in our right mind when we e-mailed him anyway).

Some of you may be tempted to say it isn’t such a good day. After all, the U.S. has been knocked out of the World Cup. The wildfires are only getting closer. The lake ain’t getting any higher. And, blah, blah, blah and so on. Well, as discussion here at the Corporate Suites revealed, there are a lot worse things you could be going through:

n You could be doing laundry.

n You could be trying to pick out that piece of tin foil that got stuck in your teeth when you bit into your sandwich. (Really, is there anything worse than biting tin foil?)

n You could be (and this is, we’re told, a true story) living in Iowa City, chain-smoking because your girlfriend left you to have a baby with a meth-head, and you decide to, of all things, do laundry to cheer yourself up, only to set all your clothes on fire and have to walk shamefully back to your apartment (chain smoking) with smoldering synthetic fabrics – in the rain. (Sorry if that sounded too much like something your grandfather would say; at least we didn’t embellish the tale by saying the walk was uphill.)

n You could have a splinter on your butt. (Try getting anyone to help you with that.)

n Your full-time job could be cleaning tanning beds.

n You could sign a multimillion-dollar contract to join a new all-girl pop band – only to read later in the fine print that your bandmates are Yoko Ono, Judge Judy and Dr. Laura.

See, today could be a lot worse, even if it isn’t that great. We thought you’d see it our way.


Stephanie is ticked. No, she’s madder than that. She faxed us a Scum Alert!! Scum Alert!! “of the highest magnitude,” saying some slopnozzle pitched a cigarette out his window on Vail Circle in Summit Cove. Stephanie knows it wasn’t there the day before, because she walks her dog along that route daily.

“You know who you are and you had better not let me see you do it again or I will call the sheriff on you,” Stephanie wrote, and we’re glad to hear citizens taking no guff on this issue.

Let us also add that, no matter what earthly castigations the po-po might inflict on you, the karmic retribution for starting a wildfire in Summit Up Land is … oooooooh … well, just re-read that list above.


It’s Sunday, for whatever it’s worth to you. We’re collecting signatures for our petition to stop the petition against a Frisco golf course and, instead, change everything to plans for a drive-in movie theater. Send your John Hancocks to, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just do your best in-window speaker impression on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998 ext. 237.

We’re out changing our P.O. box to “Mrs. Knight Rider” …

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