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I'm a political organizer, I hope my stories entertain you (so that's where the name comes from):

In 2008 I was in Iowa for the Democratic Presidential Caucus.  It was a few days before Caucus night, and so, even though it was only 6 degrees outside with 30 degree windchill on top, I was out canvassing.  And because I'm from Southern California and think it's freezing if the thermometer ever dips below 50, I'd forgotten my gloves at the office before I'd gone out.  Besides discovering just how tiny a ball I could curl myself up in while still being able to shuffle down the sidewalk, it went pretty well.  More than anyone I've ever met, Iowa voters are used to canvassers.  The lack of gloves and subzero temperatures even payed off for me, as people would answer the door, see me shivering, and invite me in so I could warm up and give my rap.  And then I reached the driveway.

Almost all of the houses I had been to that day were owned by responsible citizens who followed the law and kept their driveways and sidewalks clear, but not this one.  This one looked like the landing strip for Santa's Reindeer, thick ice pockmarked by what I could only assume were hooves colliding with it at high speeds.

It's at this moment I want to pause and remind the reader that I'm from Southern California, and to me ice is only supposed to be found in a bag, a tray, or if it's a really nice house one of those dispensers in the refrigerator door.  It was certainly not supposed to be on the ground.  My time in Iowa had already shown me that if I was one of the X-Men my mutant power would be the ability to find and slip on the tiniest particle of ice (I'm not sure how this power would help me protect a world that feared and loathed me, but Charles Xavier works in mysterious ways).

As far as I was concerned, this driveway might as well have been Mt. Everest.  I was equally likely to reach the top of either.  Still, I had a job to do and so as I started up the driveway I noticed a man spotting me from a window in the house.  By the time he opened the front door I was halfway up the driveway.  I opened my mouth to introduce myself when


I'd like to believe the sound came from the ice, but it very well may have been the back of my skull.  I staggered up to my feet with a speed that only comes from having slipped on ice 5 or 6 times a day for the previous week.  The man looked on stunned as I continued to make my ascent up his driveway.  I made it another two steps before I fell again, this time face first.  The man rushed toward me as again I staggered to my feet with blood gushing out of my nose.  As he helped guide me back down his driveway, the lizard organizer part deep within my brain kicked in and I started my rap.  Escorting me off his property as quickly as he could while basically carrying me, he assured me repeatedly that he and his wife would Caucus that Tuesday.

And so I moved on to the next house on the list...


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