Wiffle ball bats…

…Frisbees and footballs surfaced in backyards across the Red River Valley this week, thanks to the melting snow.

Obama can’t bowl, Hillary can’t make nice and McCain can’t wait to tear into one of the two.

Sting operations are catching everyone from boys and girls purchasing cigarettes and booze to degenerates who want sex with boys and girls.

Meantime, the price of gas edges closer to $4 at the pumps.

Iraqi and our soldiers are getting killed in Iraq, but make no mistake, the surge is working. The tail is wagging the dog, folks. Don’t doubt that for a minute.

The Minnesota Twins still can’t hit a lick, the Vikings signed a semi-retired QB living in a nursing home and the Timberwolves are wondering if the fans will ever return?

We can hope Obama doesn’t try curling.

Golfers can’t wait for their courses to open, fishermen are dreaming of open water and gardeners are ordering seed.

The temperature today might climb into the 50s.

Life is good.

You know you’re a North Dakotan, when after suffering through another forgettable winter and so-far miserable spring, and on the first day the weather is perfect, you announce, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

You know you’re a loyal Twins fan when you can smilingly accept a 12-hit 1-0 loss in the second game of the season.

This after a season when they couldn’t score to save their mother’s soul.

Obama couldn’t break 100 bowling to save his mother’s soul.

It’s no wonder the Twins haven’t inquired of my status as a batting instructor. I couldn’t hit my weight when I played baseball. And I weighed 125 at the time.

“Ball four.”

Bent over home plate at 5-foot-6, I walked every time.

The manager’s last words to me when I stepped out of the dugout: Don’t let the bat leave your shoulder.

Trotting down to first base, I always turned and smiled into the dugout.

Not smiling, the manager would turn to the bench coach. “Hell of a stick, that kid.”

I grew an inch after Legion baseball but I still couldn’t hit a lick.

The Minnesota Twin standing 6-foot, weighing 210 can hit a lick either.

I can relate.

But I have a hard time figuring out Obama’s bowling score of 36.

The guy is no athlete, sad to say.

Which means he’s probably not a baseball fan.

Good grief, we are going to hell in a hand basket.

Go, Hillary.

Wait a minute. Hillary’s not a fan of baseball, either?

Go, Obama.

I can’t have it both ways? you say.

Go, John McCain.

Wait a minute. What’s it going to be? you ask. Democrat or Republican?

Where’s John Kerry when I need him?

Kerry was a baseball fan.

Good thing we live in North Dakota, I always say. We’re not affected by politics on the national scale. We’re so far removed from the political arena, we sometimes have to ask: Who’s running again? We’re so far from the Nation’s Capitol, political leaders ask: Is North Dakota still in the Union?

Wait a minute. They’ve both coming to North Dakota this week? Obama and Hillary? THEY’RE GOING TO BE IN GRAND FORKS TODAY!

Is Obama bringing his bowling ball?

Is Hillary bringing Bill?

Where’s Chelsea?

Who’s holding down the store?

Geo. W.

Good grief, we are going to hell in a hand basket.