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COLUMN

Happytown

This week, we race for the merch booth on Rick Scott's rhubarb reinvention tour, hide in your backyard (because you don't want us in your backyard) on the municipal redistricting tour and adjust our baby monitors to the "controversy" frequency at Disney. We are everywhere.

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OK, Rick Scott. We are officially tired of you now. In what was to be yet another stop on the gubernatorial Re-Invention Tour – slated to be vastly less successful than the Blonde Ambition Tour preceding it – our least favorite gangly mumbler swung once again around the tetherball poll and right back into our fair city on Aug. 18 – this time not to appear both foolish and patronizing at a poor people’s shopping emporium, but rather to sell the new soft-focus versionof himself to the Orlando Sentinel editorial board.

We caught wind of the pit stop on Monday (well, not really a pit stop, as he was also here to champion charter schools on I-Drive with fembot Michelle Rhee later that afternoon), and, in a fit of vainglory, decided to put in a call to Scott’s press office. Just hold the insides of your fists to your eyelids right now and think of how awesome it would be if Rick Scott popped up in the Happytown™ HQ broom closet for a starry-eyed dancewith our blatant cynicism! Think of Billy Manes writhing on his lap while chanting “rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb” in his face. We would just die.

Only he didn’t accept. Prom, needless to say, was ruined. We did take our torn taffeta down to the Sentinel offices to try to greet the dastardly doughnut hole with our discontent and found that we were not the only Pretty in Pink castaways to conjure this notion. The Pink Slip Rick brigade – made famous only the night before by a five-minute segment on MSNBC’s The Rachel Maddow Show, in which the world’s favorite lesbian pundit applauded the group’s reverse-robo-call campaign against Rick Scott, because it was super awesome – was there in droves, soliciting honks of joyous hatred from passersby on wheels.

“How did you know he was coming?” a Sentinel reporter asked Pink Slip Susannah Randolph, executive director of Florida Watch Action.

“Um, I think because the Sentinel told us?” she blinked back.

Anyway, the whole idea was to build on the momentum of the Pink Slip Rick movement and make the world’s worst prom date (that didn’t get us pregnant) feel really uncomfortable. When we got there, Scott was already running late. Disgruntled citizens of all shapes and sizes and ages lined up waiting for their chance to scream “fraud” or “fink” or “fuck” (not “rhubarb,” sadly) into his lizard face. A truck for a company actually called “Recall” drove by and everybody laughed and laughed. But, thanks to what appeared to be some counterinsurgency provided by Orlando police officers on bicycles, Gov. Scott pulled off a side-door fakeout just in time to sneak past the protesters and get down to the business of lyingto the stodgy suits of the Sentinel oak room.

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