Inspire Emotion

The Real Contest Begins After the Election

Inspire Note: This post was written by guest author, Dan Brantley, one of the valued commentators on Inspire. Give it a read with an open mind. Although I disagree with much of what Dan says, I believe it is a thoughtful, and well written piece that deserves to be considered.

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With all the rancor and bitterness floating around regarding the election, an issue getting little attention is the Contest after the Contest. Because the truth is, whoever gets elected in November, has to deal with several hundred entrenched members of Congress, many with as many years experience as McCain and some with as much charisma as Obama.

I was a principal in a start-up "green" company in Austin, Texas a few years ago. We were the only company in our space that could boast of being environmentally friendly, kind to the air and performing a valuable service that had a positive impact on storm water quality. And our service cost no more, and sometimes less, than existing services of its kind. Between the operations manager and myself we had over twenty year's experience in the business and a good reputation for service.

Ted by Ken Armstrong

They’d all been to some party or prize-giving or something and they brought Ted back with them.  Roger said he had won him in a fight, I believed the first bit, not the second.

Ted was a teddy bear, of sorts, only a lot cheaper and tackier than the normal model. 

He was knee high, inflatable, and permanently moulded into a seated position.  His arms outstretched uncomfortably in front of him and his leg sections were crimped at the top from having been roughly heat-sealed to his torso.  He had fixed and dilated pupils and a manic grin welded permanently beneath his painted snout.  He was yellow.

There was a lot of work to be done.  I wasn’t in the mood.

They fooled around at my desk with him for a while and then drifted back to their architecture and their phone calls.  Ted was left abandoned on my monitor, staring vacantly off at something over my head.  I looked at him closely.  He meant nothing to me.  I had typing to do, he was in my way.

Andrew phoned at three and made mournful noises.  I told him I was sorry but I couldn’t see how I would ever manage to forgive him.  Ted didn’t bat an eyelid.  I remember hanging up and wishing that someone would just get him out of my sight, how he was making my desk look shoddy.  I poked his chest with my finger.  He felt like a beach ball.