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As Ricochet’s Editor-in-Chief, it’s my job to write stories, recruit authors, and ruthlessly enforce both the Chicago Manual of Style and our vaunted Code of Conduct. But if you only know me from my scintillating insights, withering quips, and penchant for hipster coffee, you’re only seeing a small portion of my vibrant, fulfilling life.
When Rob Long and Peter Robinson hired me for the big chair, they promised more fame and wealth than any lower-middle-class schlub like me had any right to expect. Even considering my manifest talent and chiseled glutes, I never thought I’d be able to purchase a home for my growing family. Sure, it’s a modest abode, but thanks to the steady work, we now a roof, four walls, and a little space for our dog to explore.
It’s a fixer-upper, but as our real estate agent told us, “lokacija, lokacija, lokacija.” (He’s Slovenian.) I took the photo from the train tracks, but that’s about the only noise we hear at this spacious lot just 62 miles west of Phoenix. Well, that and the hungry coyotes.
Having worked freelance for the past several years, it was a challenge to keep food on the table, but with biweekly checks comes lots of grub from the local wholesaler.
Yep, now my kids are eating the fancy ramen and they couldn’t be happier. Plus, the styrofoam containers are handy for filling leaks in the thatched roof and protecting us from the howling winds that ravage the Sonoran Desert in winter.
Oh look, there’s one of my daughters wanting seconds!
We had to sell her long blonde tresses so we could afford a needle and thread to patch up our overalls, but I’m simple folk. We consider ourselves blessed because all our essentials are taken care of. I’m not one to complain or beg for help; It’s a tough economy out there and we’re all are doing our best to save where we can.
But … there is the matter of our dog. You see, the old mongrel is pretty happy out here on our little slice of suburban bliss, but Col. Patches has issues. Mange, fleas, ringworm, cherry eye, hip dysplasia, conjunctivitis, serial incontinence, and vertigo are common to any Chihuahua/Doberman mix, but he’s bravely dealt with each challenge with a snapping grin.
Recently, he was diagnosed with rawhide intolerance, a cruel malady we discovered when a kindly BNSF train conductor began tossing treats to Col. Patches on the fortnightly run to Yuma. Undeterred, the brave mutt still gnaws on those knotted bones, subjecting our family to nights of violent gastric disturbance.
Thankfully, there is a remedy available. Whole Foods sells a hypoallergenic, gluten-free “fauxhide” made from hemp threads, chia seeds, and quinoa. This will give the old dog his special treat without chasing the family from our shaky lean-to. Each treat costs $37.98, but if only you could see the joy on Col. Patches’ face, you too would consider it a worthy investment.
If you love animals and love comforting the cute little moppets who take our old dog on his daily walk to the old cast-iron water pump, there’s a way you can help. If we get to 10,000 Ricochet members, Rob and Peter said they’d buy Col. Patches a pallet of fauxhide — enough to last him until he finally shuffles off this canine coil (he’s 23 years old).
Not only will Ricochet membership give you the ability to join the conversation with the smartest, kindest and most civil conservatives on the Internet, you’ll also get access to a Superfeed of all our podcasts, and the ability to post all the stories you want.
So, please, consider purchasing one of our very inexpensive memberships. We’ll even give you a free month! Yes, you’ll be supporting our mission here at Ricochet, but don’t just do it for us. Do it for Col. Patches.
Published in General
Modest abode or modest adobe…
Hahahahahahahahaha.
This is sadder than an ASPCA commercial with emaciated dewy-eyed dogs and cats in cages. People do need to pony up.
Keep shoveling; there’s got to be a pony in this somewhere!
Jon,
Damn it Jon, I’ll join!!! Wait a minute I’m already a member. Well hell Jon with a pitch like that I’ll join a second time.
Wait.. look..a squirrel.
I’m learning American English. Where else but Ricochet.
Regards,
Jim
A pause was required so I could get some imagery out of my head.
Depending on what is 62 miles east of that modest abode (downtown or the edge of town?), I’m roughly the same distance east of you as you are west of Phoenix. However, I’m confounded. Where the heck are my mountains? What have you done with them, you scoundrel!? Not to mention desert vegetation.
I thank you for an enjoyable post. It was a pleasure to read.
-Ric Fischer
-DesertDwarf
Part of my comment #20 over on this thread:
Rob Long can afford to eat at restaurants where customers tip? I was under the impression that Ricochet was losing so much money for it’s founders that they were getting by on generic macaroni and cheese. I upgraded to the Thatcher level just so Rob & Peter could afford some Kraft Mac & Cheese from time to time. Maybe even a can of Hormel Chili for special occasions.
Now we know how Rob can afford to dine out, he’s making Jon work practically for free. They probably charge Fred to let him write The Daily Shot.
Any chance we could just call it a ro-dent?
Did you mention the random drawing? That’s right! One lucky new member will be selected in a random drawing to go on a Caribbean cruise with Ricochet’s own femme fatale – Claire Berlinski! You’ll enjoy first class accommodations on the corporate yacht the Rob Long One:
As someone who’s currently in Barracks C, Room 8, Bunk 12A of the Ricochet Counter-Revolutionary AP Style Re-education Camp , I can vouch for the “ruthless” part.
Please send Red Cross packages. And A4 paper.
P.S. No, really join the site. They’ve solved the troll/incivility problem, so it’s worth your money.
Wow, I can’t believe Troy gave all that up!
I have a few questions:
I’m here to help.
Great, another hipster posting about their micro-home and how much it frees them up to do the important things in life (like storage space renting). La-ti-dah!
“Chihuahua/Doberman mix”
Here’s hoping that by some miracle of athleticism and sheer canine will that the Chihuahua is the sire.
Funny, at :26, I’m not sure they’re going to find a squirrel there.
The Ricochet Editor-in-Chief gets to live in a mansion? It’s no wonder this place is broke.
I’m intolerance joke intolerant.
This is probably not a good time to thank Yeti for the coupons for 50¢ off a quarterpounder…
5. The EPA is getting ready to regulate your homestead. They have the power as overseers of the country’s navigable waters.
Here’s an idea; take care of and respect the members who have been with you since the beginning.
Will that include a tour of Ricochet Headquarters?
Jon has left you speechless?
Its only a three hour tour.
Word to the wise… avoid the poop deck.
This was the funniest thing I’ve read all week. I will consider upgrading to a Thatcher membership.
Your dog is Laika?
The train tracks can’t be the only attraction of your new palace. If it’s 62 miles west of Phoenix, it has to be somewhere near the nuclear power plant.
I don’t like the fancy Ramen. Too hard to eat as a biscuit.
Ar least your house doesn’t have wheels under it like Senik’s.