Manipulating Marijuana's Future In Kentucky

Stephen,

Once again.  Thank you very much for your ultra kind words of support.  And now?  A second response?  Mr. Greenwell.  I will put you in the movies!

Until then, as a humble public servant, I will honor a Citizen's Request to preach on.  A new sermon.  This chapter in my Book of Life, is dedicated, to you.

But if you think I'm just preaching to the choir?  You're seriously under-estimating the greatest writer this county's seen, since Matthew, Mark, Luke or John! 

Jerry Bruckheimer notwithstanding!

Examine.

Those few, who have dared to write in opposition against me, against my artful logic and reason, only appear to be drawing back flaming little nubs where their writing fingers used to be.

[Snicker Snicker]

Including the Mighty President of The Kentucky Press Association!

You don't see that toy-typewriter artist, that sales/want ad girl, up in here anywheres, do ya'?  DO Ya'? 

Strike me twice? 

Well, I'll have to get back to you, on that one.  Let you know how all that turns out...somebody actually making it to a second round 'gainst "Hoss" O'Bryan...if'n it ever really happens.

But don't wait by da' phone!

Tends to happen MY way...whenever you oppose a righteous man.  Specially, if'n it's one who's coldy, boldly, matter-of-factly stated, under an Election Officer's oath...

[spit]

I'm on a Mission.  From God.  And to MY Country.

[continue] 

I call it a gift.  My Calling.  My True Life Story.  "The Strange Case Of Joe O'Bryan". 

But there will be those non-believers out there who would contend that I'm just an unusually lucky guy, that way.  Former Father Dollinger altar-boy, and all.  And, now, in [their] reality, they're probably callin' me some kind of grown-up demented nut, just suffering from some of them...whaddaya' call 'em...Delusions of Grandeur.

Delusions of Grandeur? 

Honestly people.  What is that?  I mean, seriously.  You tell one overly-pompous newspaper publisher, and one verbally-challenged newspaper editor, that they are sprinking salt on the tail of a mighty [And I do mean, MIGHTY] lucky leprechaun, and suddenly, everybody's acting like this weak old Irishman, is some kind of a nut in da' head!

Sheesh.  C'mon.  Chill out.  It's [only] my Irish heritage! 

And according to family legend and lore...well...you know.  If'n there ever really was a cute one of them little magic people, runnin' around over there in old Ireland...a purty little red-headed one, with a really nice rack...well, no doubt about it. 

One of us more prolific O'Bryan boys would have been a certified shoe-in, to have hit 'Dat.

Yup. 

Luckiest Kentuckian you've probably never met.  Believed [by MANY] to have the Luck O' the Irish, embedded right there, in both my dominant and my recessive genes, hanging there low off my brain stem cell.  Yup.  Big as church bells.  Mr. Greenwell, I  been hidin' in plain sight, for years, right here in the middle of Nelson county.  Probably 'bout a seventh generation descendant of a critter you really don't want to tick off.

I'm a writer.  A PROFESSIONAL writer!

I'm on a Mission...from God...and to MY Country. 

And socially?  Politically? 

Only everybody who's anybody, up in this town, already [thinks they] knows me.

Handsome.  Friendly.  Suave.  Debonair.  Harmless.  Well-Known-Do'er-Of-Good-Deeds. 

That's Joe O'Bryan. 

(They say I favor Sean Conner-airy, when you look at me in profile!  Some say they sense it, if not outright see it.  A GLOW)

Folks just didn't know 'bout me bein', you know, spacial-gifted.

But you?  You ALMOST figured me out in your very first letter of praise. 

Very good Stephen.  Your radar scope is vectoring in on the Truth.  I confirm.  Your directional arrow is pointing, at me.  But vectors are comprised of two components.  Direction.  And Magnitude.  Magnitude Stephen.  Please adjust that setting.  To its HIGHEST setting, of course. 

You unknowingly short-changed me, time and again, in just about every one of your very sincere accolades, but then, you didn't 'zactly know who you were dealin' with. 

Daggone Internet!  One never ever really knows, who they're communicating with, whenever venturing out, onto the World Wide Web.

But as you meant no offense, and have otherwise demonstrated such an intelligent and open heart, this old Leprechaun grades you to be, more'n likely, one truly exceptional Kentuckian. 

Said I was a true 'forward-thinker'. 

Oooh!  So close.  But a miss! 

The correct answer was:  I'm a Visionary...just one psychic notch further up from your much more 'common-man' forward-thinker. 

Don't be thinking 'common-man', Stephen Greenwell.  Put that thought outta' your head, completely. 

I am...The Joe O'Bryan. 

Then you said I was singing a song of common-sense, and daggonit Stephen, you're hittin' all around it.  But I just can't be givin' it to you. 

The correct answer was:  I was singing a song of Patriotic sense..."Doggone Low-Down Never Ending Endless Quest"...offa' the Don Quixote track of my hilarious new album "Truth, Justice and the American Way".  Sung as only this leprechaunic artist can deliver.  Look for it on your Grocer's shelves.  And if you call right now on this incredible [political] TV offer, I'll send you two, that's right!  Two of...

Uh. Oh.  Just remembered.

I AM BANNED.

I am 'Sworn to God' Officer Joe O'Bryan.

Mr. Greenwell.  My pleasure to make your acquaintance.

I don't write words just to fill-up whitespace and newsprint. 

And somebody up in this town is puckered.  Cause they know.  They're whispering...it's True.

I am THE LEPRECHAUN.

I conjure up words, which effect your gray-matter.

[spit]

call that..."The Joe O'Bryan Affect". 

[continue]

I enter through your eyeballs and crawl up into your head, and you've sensed that.  From up here in the loft, warm and fuzzy 'tween your ears, I magically sing Sweet Sounds O' The Truth.  But only if your IQ hits 80, or better. 

I assist the slow and needy, but I don't hang out much in the heads of stoopid people.

It is the waaaay...of THE LEPRECHAUN.

"This is Liberation Station...4:20 FM...and you've been listening to...the melodious sounds of...a Kentuckiana Election Officer'sszzz...Special Report."

I'm scriptin'. 

Hopin' to catch a ride on the back of that homeless Radio DJ fella', that's makin' HIS way back to fortune and fame, that Ted Williams guy.  Get him to read some of this back for you People.  Cause to me, it sounds soooo good when I say it...'cept the local radio DJ's...[snicker-sadly-snicker]...ain't neverever gonna' let...ME say it.

Ted.  He's battlin' alcohol demons, they say.  Rehab-in'. 

I only know what I see and hear on TV.  The Media controls everything.  But I wish him well.

If'n I ever meet old Ted.  Just one harmless homeless person.  To another.  I'd greet him with an open hand and want him to know.  I'm the kinda' guy who would give some stuff away, if'n it'd help somebody out. 

If'n they were deserving.

And what I'm writin' down, Baby?  It doesn't just Rock!

It ShamRocks!!! 

If'n you wanna' collaborate on a books-on-tape deal, you old smooth-talker Ted, I'm writin' as fast as I can.  [No. Not Really]

I am none other than, the incredibly amazing writer [BANNED FROM MEDIA CIRCULATION] Kentucky Election Officer Sheriff, Joe O'Bryan!

The only KNOWN one.  In captivity.

[spit]

Now digest my lucky charms, KENTUCKY!!!  They're magically delicious.

[continue]

Just imagine that, Bardstown! 

Last month's front page headline news?  We may have caught ourselves a mythical cupracabra! 

Turned out to be...a sickly 'coon! 

This month's buried headline?  The Kentucky Standard's done caught themselves a bona fide magic man.  Caught me fair and square by sprinkling salt upon my tail.  Told me I wasn't "expert" enough to be writin' in the public print! 

Joe O'Bryan.  The Man, The Myth, The Legend, The Enigma.

Da' harmless homeless Kentuckian?

REJECTED!

Thank you Publisher and Editor.  Mighty christian, of you two, helpin' outta' poor boy, just tryin' to make his own way and all.  No more usin' my God-given talents like my brother, the reverend DJ [Ted] Williams, was.  My salute to you, as a sworn Officer, truly disclosing the Honor and Depth of your patriotic integrity, for what 'dats Publicly worth.  Honoring, as well your promotion and support [as now Press-ass-dent?] of the American Right to Free Expression.  [Press-ass-dent of the ky press assocs???]

Sweetly worded curses from...hi y'all...THE LEPRECHAUN.

The hairless 'coon is yesterday's news...but enough already 'bout bald-headed me.  [Friends WILL insert laugh track here!]

Wasn't ever supposed to be about me. me. me. 

I was just supposed to slip in, as Directed.  And precisely on cue, at the correct cosmic moment in Time.  Hit my Mark!  Inject a few words of wisdom, or mystical magical code issued from my MIGHTY pen, as I modestly liked to think of it, into the old printed newspaper,  And then, whammo!

'Mission Accomplished'. 

I'd have been up and quietly, outta' here. 

Had I been allowed to do my own thing, as Directed [I'm on a Mission from God and to MY Country] you'd have hardly noticed me!

And that is just my way.  Part of my ability to hide in plain sight.  Never tower.

It is the waaaay...of THE LEPRECHAUN.

Eyeballs would have ingested my words and then forgotten the author. 

The world, however, would have changed for the better. 

Spun on a dime. 

Or maybe.

NOT! 

At all. 

But it would have done so, on MY command, while still leaving me be.  Humble.  As was ever and always my way.  Leaving me be, in near complete anonymity.

Now 'Dats Joe O'Bryan.

I'd have been free to go on about my merry little way, in search of performing my next great and noble deed. 

And you'd better be thankin' your lucky stars, Kentucky, that you've got homeless harmless people like me, out here, running amok.

But the two lady bozos down at the local printin' press got it all wrong.  Oughta' have their garl-darned heads examined for denying an election officer his proper due space!

Showed a powerful amount of disrespect, to me, towards the whole American Votin' system.  Dishonorin' a fundamental cog in the system, like an Election Officer?  If I don't show up for work.  Do MY job.  Direct the Public as they make their way through Kentucky's voting system.  If I can't fulfill on my sworn obligation to God and Country.  Heaven help us.  We're all screwed.

So, I called 'em on it.  Without blinking.  And I raised.

I'm also the proud product of my Nelson County schooool teachers.  Who taught me well, grades one through twelve, how to handle myself with paper and pen.  And, additionally.  I told 'em.  I tipped 'em.   I warned 'em.  I'm sorta'...a spacial character 'round my hometown...woncha' please print up the words of a Gifted, slightly 'bove average Kentuckian?

[Take a bow Patsy Seay, my old writing coach, as well as a whole host of other Nelson county teachers who challenged me to elevate my mind.  God loves you!]

But no sir.  Them little girlies just kept chantin' go away, go away.  On an endless loop.  Kinda' like talkin' to one of those Stepford Wives...

"We reserve the Right to Reject ANY letter..."

But I wasn't hearing any valid, logical, reason for rejection, come outta' either of those two robots.  All my pointy ears kept hearin' was this Fire Breathing Prohibition Dragon...

'Go away boy.  Ya' bother me.  Yooouu Sir, are an Enemy of THE STATE.  Now shut up!  Put your head back down!  We run this town!  So quit actin' out!  Yer makin' a fool of yerself.  Jest who do you think you are?  I'm the big bad dragon!  And I reserve my rights.  mr. obryan.  There ain't really nothing more, you can really do.  You pipsqueek.  Now get smart.  Get lost.  And go deal wit' it.'

I thought I was just imagining things.  But there it is in email print.  Jamie Sizemore - President of The Kentucky Press Association,  tellin' me to get my act together. 

'Work with us.  Not against.  In the future.'

Can you even imagine a semi-decent Leprechaun workin' with these chumps?  Not against them?  To keep Truthful people, from speakin' out?

[whispered across this Psychic's web to the k.p.a. - And the Friend of my Enemy is?]

At 'dat point in Time.  She didn't know I was a leprechaun.  So, the better [more rational] question is...

Can you even imagine...them believin'...that there'd be nothin' more, a little old insignificant sworn to God Kentucky Election Officer could do?

Shaking them gently Stephen, using undeniable tangible Truth, wasn't cuttin' it.

So.  I straight-up rattled 'em.

Probably put 'em off a bit, when I revealed to them "My Incredibly True, True Life Story".

But I spilled it.

I AM...THE...Spacial Character.  FATED!  To be that "One Man in Time".  Arriving on site.  At this very point on the Planet.  Just in Time.  To change the course of Kentucky's...well okay...American...oops, one more time, Mr. Greenwell, let's get it right...World History!

Just to put a fine point on it. 

It is...MY Destiny.  My Christian Calling. 

And I don't know why Stephen.  But when you say...IT...straight up that...WAY...[Yes Way]...to some of these schmucks runnin' around out here in the Bardstown Bible Belt...without blinkin'...well they just automatically start treatin' like you was some kind of a nut!

In da' head!!!

That's how come they're keepin' me caged up down here in the dungeon of the unprintables.

As I slip the bonds they've placed on me, like Harry Houdini on steroids, lemme' tell you what kind of [difficult] position this puts me in.  All because these two jokers wouldn't accept any rational reasons...as reason enough to yield to me.

Hail.  Lucky for them, I've already scripted their defense.  You'll hear 'em play and plead the "God. [and this !@#??? Leprechaun] Made us do it" defense.  And THEY will make it STICK!  Because in the Light o' Public Scrutiny.  They're not just gonna' look dumb.  They'r not just gonna' look Kentucky dumb.  Nope.  It will, and can only be explained, as them two lookin' to be. DIVINELY-INSPIRED Dumb!

Cause 'regular' people can't be this stoopid!!!

This'll play out better'n a Walt Disney movie...my True Life Story.

But for now, I gotta' fall completely outta' the Kentucky woodwork.

Get discovered for being the magnificent critter that I am. 

Gotta' do what I gotta' do in order to complete my mission.  To...you know WHO. 

Even if it means discovery of such a sensitive, closely-guarded, genetically-personal secret...like mine!

Kermit the frog could tell ya'.  It ain't easy bein' green. 

Nor is it easy, being the only one o' my kind, currently in captivity. 

An election officer.  Who went on the record, back in 2007, as Kentucky's only sworn officer advocating the Citizen's Right to Vote on Marijuana Reform. 

But I guess I'm outta' the ol' magic closet, now. 

Forced out. 

With Greatness, thrust upon me. 

I reckon I'll just have to suck it up.  Reveal my phenomenal self.  Speak my piece.  Knock down Censorship.  Stand up for Voter's Rights.  And then, somehow.  Somehow.  Cast out upon America.  Learn to make the best of it. 

Oh.  The unbearable shame of it all.

I dunno'. 

Maybe find work on the back lot of a Harry Potter movie set somewhere, or sumpin'. 

But as far as I can see.  And I'm a Visionary!   Won't never be any way again, to fall back into the Kentucky woodwork.

One-way trip.

I'm out.

The Leprechaun Patriot. 

But I just want all you all to know. 

While they may have caught me fair and square, with just a little dash of salt on my tired old tail, if the ladies would kindly remove their drawers, you'll see upon inspection that they're the ones, with really bad rashes, spanning cheeks-to-cheeks, across't their sorry asses.

Courtesy of...THE LEPRECHAUN!

Publisher and Editor.  I scoff at you.  But I also gifted you with that last run of unsubstantiated phrases.  It may be your One...Last...Only...Best shot at bringin' me down. 

[Continue to] Show off your asses and then sue me.  On medical slander grounds, if indeed, your cheeks, ain't overly red.  I'm willin' to take my chances in court, so you think about it, for awhile. 

As I understand it, all you'd need do, is provide tangible evidence, of a rash, or the lack thereof, for something they call, Discovery.  So gimme' some 8 by 10, [bent-over] glossies, so I can have sweet dreams 'bout meetin' up witchu' two.

Discovery.  Oh yeah.  That reminds me. 

Stephen.  I like some of the words you've been using.  Take it from me.  You too, may just have what it takes to be a truly great writer. 

You ever used words like...'Citizen's Right to Discovery of Evidence'? 

Or maybe sumpin' like...'Under the Freedom of Information Act, I respectfully request any email copies that may exist of Election Officer's...[BANNED FROM PUBLICATION]...Blog Submissions #1 and #2, entitled:

END GAME: Appointments With Destiny

and

END GAME: Trey's On His Way'

As a writer, Stephen, it's all about vision.  Could you ever see yourself maybe puttin' together phrases that sounded somethin' like that?

I really can't see any reason, at this late stage, for any non-disclosure of those precious documents.

The Editor and Publisher can confirm to you.  I've submitted them.  To them.  Several months ago...

...and to WLKY-TV, WHAS-TV, WDRB-TV, WAVE-TV, PLG-TV, WBRT-Radio, and I even sent copies to my old Bethlehem high-school buddy, Jimmy Brooks, a.k.a. Bourbon Boy, over at his pretend newspaper website, The Nelson County Gazette.

If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'!

Folks, it's true.

There's TV news reporters, college professors, a bunch of really smart people, and even a small handful of Nelson County High School teachers out there, that can testify.

Cain't I get a witness?

But, I don't yet want one, from all those aforementioned players.  I assembled them all, then turned 'em all in, to an invisible, hidden, email audience.  Code named them as: THE LION'S DEN.  And their civic duty has been to watch these American Free Press People come out and censor me.

I haven't whispered 'pounce' to my kittens...just yet.

Jes' waitin' fer the press-ass-dent of the k.p.a. to...

' ESPRESS YO' SELF...c'mon, c'mon...espress yo' self'...as I dance and sing slow circles around her.

For it is the harmless humorous...waaaay...of THE LEPRECHAUN.

I done told you all.

When forced into it, if Push must come to Shove, I'm a show-off visionary and, of course, I [only] predicted beforehand, what they wuz' gonna' do it.

And now my psychic ability, to see near and far into the future, is very well documented.

"END GAME"

Homeland Security can vouch for what I say.

"END GAME" is only the best-kept underground email secret in the State.  Makes Dean Watt's email scandal look like a couple of school boys passes cheat sheet notes.

But you ain't heard nothin' about "END GAME".

The conspiracy to suppress this one election officer, may be slightly greater, slightly broader than you earlier surmised.

Am I being paranoid, now?

Naw.

I've got a pair-o'-noids the size of church bells and this Kentucky Humorist don't appear to be the one who's backin' up, runnin' askeer'd, from nothin' nor nobody!

But keep your eyes opened Kentucky.  Certainly.  I am being suppressed, by The Editor and The President of The Kentucky Press Assoc's.

Fortunately, for the Bad Guys...uh, er...Girls, it was pretty easy to put the lid on old Jody boy.  But it warn't really that much of a neat trick.  Not much of a trick, there at all, really. 

Let's keep it real.  I'm a leprechaun and know all about nifty tricks.

Now, keepin' that lid on Hoss O'Bryan?  And makin' that look easy?  As I stretch out my writin' fingers and begin to ramp up my power?  Simply by entering a trance-like state, while whispering to a keyboard, my incredibly True, True Life Story?

[I gotta' book to write!] 

Dat's gonna' prove out to be much more difficult and a pretty neat trick, indeed. 

(Psst!  Personally, I don't see it happenin', but that's just me, The Visionary, talkin' trash)

Of course, as the author and artist-creator of those [censored] blog entries, I could, and would send them directly to you, myself, if provided with your proper email credentials. 

I could pull that trick off in an Eenie-Beanie-Chilli-Weanie instant. 

But then, that wouldn't quite prove that they were ever really sent to The Kentucky Standard. 

And it would be me, having to disseminate my own gospels.

I don't do Self promotion. 

I already got disciples [volunteered] doin' that, for me.  You'll witness the effect of having Two People go forth to tell Two People to go forth, and so on. 

Shortly. 

But what the disciples do, the distribution of public political information, is 'sposed to be The Kentucky Standard's job to do! 

NOW REVEAL!

I like to force my little bugs [close your eyes] go this-a-way and that-a-way [no really close your itty-bitty eyes] manipulating them through [cause you shouldn't orta have to see this] my own mental maze.  Until they itty-bitty heads get dizzy.  And they wind up fallin' down, rollin'!!! 

All over [on] themselves!

It's a little bit mean.  It's a little bit manipulative, but...

It is the waaaay...of THE LEPRECHAUN.

Set 'em back on their haunches.  Then, bend 'em over and expose 'em in the public light o' day.   

I'm claiming, amongst so many colorfully truthful claims, to be a [daggone genius] Election Officer Sheriff, who ran an independant investigation into censorship and corruption, surrounding the sacred voting booth.

You either believe that, or you don't. 

And I'm just sayin', part of that [BANNED FROM PUBLICATION - KY ELECTION OFFICER's "SPACIAL" REPORT] was rendered into email form, under the aforementioned titles and placed in the hands of The Kentucky Standard.

Those works should see the Light o' Day!

Discovery, Stephen. 

All my true-life story needs right now, is all the Kentucky Standard needs to avoid. 

A Private Investigator, the ol' Private Eye, the ol' Private Dick!

Imagine some Dick, all pumped-up.  Much as yourself.  Snoopin' around to investigate some of the outlandish claims being made by a mystery man.  Such as myself. 

Why, I 'spect, having ol' pumped-up Dick around, snoopin' just a little bit deeper in to things?  I 'spect ol' Dick would just about scare the pee-water outta' them two Kentucky Standard girls.

But I'm just sayin', Mr. Greenwell. 

If'n we all worked together.  The Citizen and The Leprechaun vs. The Publisher and The Editor.  I predict.  We could charm 'em.  We could beguile 'em.  We could Score. 

And probably have a good chance to slip the ol' green-weenie to the Prohibition Dragon, along the way! 

Not 'dat these girls are [mentally] pretty easy. 

But cutie pies.  My pointy ears perk and stiffen up from just thinkin' about it!  And I know you turned cold on me when we was a threesome.  But how y'all feel 'bout a swingin' foursome?  If'n we called it all just a little ol' double-date?  Maybe take y'all out for a Anti-Censorship Bardstown Summit meeting, or somethin'?  With State Senator Jimmy Higdon and St. Joe's Father Bill Hammer, leadin' us off in a Prayer for Kentucky?

Invite your Kentucky Press Association friends.  Let's make it a party!

Stephen, people just need to know fer' sure. 

Do those emailed documents even exist?  Or am I just sufferin' from more of that delusionally grandeur stuff we wuz talkin' about earlier? 

You know.  Father Dollinger was way closer to bein' a sheep molester than a shepherd.  Maybe, in reality, I'm a former altar-boy who's just a little bent...if'n you know what I mean.

Don't matter about all that. 

Even if The Kentucky Standard can't bring themselves to publish my work, for maybe good and valid reasons, doesn't mean they couldn't re-distribute it...for your perusal and rational judgement.

And they'd have to.

If'n you'd invoked some of that legalese jargon that the clandestine newspapers hate to see us small people slingin' around.

Sling the lingo, Greengo.

You could probably bust this whole story wide open, if only you could, for the sake of The Citizenry, figure out a way to get your hands on copies of my work, publicly, through The Kentucky Standard, themselves.  Tell 'em Joe says 'Hello' and that I'd like 'em to work with you.  Not against you.

Maybe I'm rantin' on, like another deranged Tucson Arizona quack...or, maybe the Publisher and Editor really do have somethin' to hide.

And then, if you could cough up some kind of paperwork outta' them, then you'd have the chance to independantly reveal whether you thought they were being politically correct in shielding the Public from me...obviously some kind of a wack job.

Or, are they ACTUALLY censoring me, an intelligent, educated, very well-informed, politically-saavy election officer? 

Or, Or, Or.   Are they just bigots? 

Discriminating against all us Leprechauns, in general, and this one wizard word-smith, in particular?

ATTICA!..ATTICA!..ATTICA!..

Oh, Stephen.  I do so enjoy, playing with them.

[spit]

But I ain't funnin'.

[continue]

They thought they were powerful enough to constrain and contain a U.S. government agent.  But they just so happened to have drawn the short straw. 

A short straw, curiously code-named, way back in 1997, when I was just a lad, doing Government Services work for my Country...Before that big government services job went corrupted...Code-named as...You've guessed it...'THE LEPRECHAUN'.  A professional writer, a mystery man, a U.S. Government Agent, quite a character, and a person that they've never-ever met before, in real-life. 

Judged impulsively, to be, too much for Bardstown.  Indigenous to the population - Joe O'Bryan.

[You're reading Joe O'Bryan's incredible True Life story.  Read the book.  See the movie.] 

Now, as you can see, I've magically reduced my pretty playthings. 

Revealed them to be, precisely what they truly are.  Just Gnat-sees. 

Minor stink bugs, really...trapped within an imaginary glass jar of my own [brilliant] email construction.

I hold them up for your public observation...careful...these bugs don't like much of that...and bid you to ask them the taunting question..."Do you STILL think THIS creative writer is NOT expert enough to write about simple voting issues?"

And then, go ahead.  Shake the jar vigorously.  Feels good.  Gnat-see little buggies go this-a-way.  Gnat-see little buggies go that-a-way.  Rattling the cages of my Gestapo captors, from inside the unprinted box that they're keepin' me in. 

I love it.

Now, concerning the development of your own writing prowess...

Stephen, I can see, contained within your closing comments, that you're attempting to goad the general public into giving up a public response with a not-so-subtle call to action...

"Let us hear your voices all you smart, conscientious citizens out there before that "priviledge" is suppressed."

My, my.  That's touching. 

I feel your passion, bro. 

In my past, as an ineffective writer, I tried the same trick. 

But, it just don't work.

Sure. You may incite one or two of the truly exceptional.  But unfortunately, you'll never catch a political big fish.  They're mostly bottom-feeders, more comfortable ingesting and excreting pond scum, than digesting and serving up the supportive Truth. 

And as for the rest of our society, well, Kentucky finishes deep in the stinkin' rear of the Nation, when it comes to the ability to express themselves with the written and the spoken word.  A bunch of [non-JFK] Kentuckians are just smart enough to recognize, that, deep-down, they're terribly stupid.  Lacking basic skills necessary to effectively communicate in the written, read, and spoken word.  Most just choose to go mute.  Functionally Illiterate.  Just to avoid the embarrassment of exposing their inadequacies.  We all have our secrets, Mr. Greenwell, but ignorance, has left so many...gutless.  They become as mindless sheep, being led like lemmings, over the criminal, abominable cliff, by our current crop of public servants, shepherds of 'The People' . 

Remember the words of a True Shepherd. 

You can lead Kentucky's sheep to cool waters. But you cannot make them think.

Realizing this, and being dedicated to the concept that this year, this election officer's protest would be...different, I drew upon an extra handful of IQ points that I'd been holding back, for just such a special occasion.

I cleverly chose to write up my oppressors, within that Formal Election Officer's Report to The State's Board of Elections.

Genius. Sheer genius. If'n I do have to [oh no not again] say so, muhself. 

You see Stephen.  If you're working towards being a phenomenal writer, alway deal from a position of strength.  Don't make it a habit of asking a lethargic public to step up and do you no favors.

Nope.

You have to visualize. 

See the windmill that you're about to tilt! 

And then, Stephen.  Grow.  Grow Large!  Grow Quixote Large!!!

Consume the windmill, one-on-one, with complete, compelling, overwhelming, annihilating, decimating, all-consuming FORCE!

This year, the way I've dunnit', no one gets to duck and hide.

By submitting my complaint directly to the State's Board of Elections, I've [magically] managed to box us all in. 

And this Old Kentucky Home country boy leprechaun likes his bottom-feeders best, when he hauls 'em all up, in his magic fish box.

Come One.  Come All.  Come now you [Christian] Voters.  Bring on the loaves.  I got yo' fishes.

HANGIN!!!

Should the Board now fail to respond, it'd be a political voting scandal far greater than The Standard's own censorship boon-doggle.

Failure by the State Board to deliver service to an Election Officer, currently being censored, might just bring out the Federal Election Officer in me.  And nobody wants me goin' all O'Bama, on 'em, upside they silly heads.

[spit]

'Cept me. 

[continue]

Joe - The Election Officer, would make so much more of a dent in this Country's misguided way o' thinking, than last Presidential Election's Media Darlin', Joe - Da' Plumber.  Mebbe' way more than ol' Joe, could even imagine.  Not taking away anything from any of us Joes.

Hence-ergo-ipso-facto, it's gonna' happen and when they inevitably do respond, it will bring to light, Statewide, my irrefutable charges of censorship and corruption, and then, somebody's gonna' answer me...gonna' answer to us all.

Old Jodyboy dun' dropped the hammer. 

No Recall or Abort sequence built in.

Like it or not, Kentucky.  It's Appointment with Destiny Time, for THE LEPRECHAN.

For That One Man In Time...to reach out into smart minds. 

[Evangetlically]

And, I wanna'...wanna'...REACH OUT...hah...I say I got to got to got to...REACH OUT...hah...[AMEN!]...and touch somebody.

Can I get an amen?

[continue] 

Please enjoy the show.

So, listen up all you big Hollywood producers.  That's where this will all wind up.

I'm in charge of all the promotional packaging, for all of this local celebrity. 

I hold all copyrights, to me!

Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!

You'll see what I want you to see!

I'm gonna' spin my story, my way!

It's all about Substance, Style, Truth and Delivery.

Being brought to you by...THE LEPRECHAUN RISING.

These fools think they've got me caged?

[Insert maniacal laughter here: "Ha. Ha. AAAAH. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha."]

Just wait until I STAND.  I'm gonna' stand all the way up.  And for once in my life, I WILL TOWER!

Mentally, I'm gonna' move fast.  Punch hard.  And walk slow circles 'round some mighty dazed and confused, incredibly dense, elected fools.  Play my cards right and the whole doggone Country may be askin' "Who...or what...The Hail...[For Liberation]...just happened down there in Bardstown, Ky?  The Bourbon Capitol of The World."

You get to watch.  Take part.  And enjoy.

God Bless America.  Ain't it Great?

And you know.  You just know.  For me to be making all these incredible claims, under oath, while managing to keep a straight face, and still riskin' my personal credibility, like this?  I must've stepped into this fracas packin' lucky charms and a whole pocketful of Aces.

And, of course.  I did...and I have.

I'm Spacial-Gifted.  That way.

Stephen.  These people who would try to squelch me, really have no idea who they're dealin' with.

I've been sand-baggin' all my life.  Never tower.  Gotta' hide in plain sight.  Just try'n fit in.

But it's Time for some old-fashioned poke-her-polly-tickin' down in Kentucky, and this Leprechaun's got a [VALID] ticket to play.

Behold, you political writers and you political writer wannabees.

Here's how you do it.  If you wanna' do it, right. 

Now, visualize!

I wrote myself a ticket and have entered the filthy Temple of Kentucky Politics!

I've strolled up to, and am standing between the marbled columns of Media Immorality and Corrupted Kentucky Government!

Embrace MY alter-reality.  Because it is ALL coming True!

As a colorful writer, and much to the horror of the incompetent reporters and the greedy politicians festering in that cesspool there, I've stretched out and evangelically laid, against each of those paltry pillars, the bloody stumps of my mangled writing hands, with my fingers ripped away by the politically correct censors, in order to avoid any printed publication, in order to protect this sleazy government, in order to avoid the unrelenting scourge which would invariably arise from any chance encounter between my fingertips and a creative writer's keyboard.

Curses!  From...THE LEPRECHAUN.

[AGAIN - Insert maniacal laughter here: "Ha. Ha. AAAAH. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha."]

Stephen, the day of reckoning is nearly at hand. If you're going to goad anyone into action, focus on directing the corrupt, the non-believers, and those who would silence me and deny you your right to vote, into coming closer to those two columns.

I'm gonna' drop 'em like a hot rock, using no more effort than a humble harmless homeless writer's...twitch!

[spit]

It's not about The Push.  It's The Touch.  Of The Leprechaun.

[continue]

Risk being censored and make your request for more information, to Lisa, from within the very public 'Letters To The Editor' column. 

Stroke 'em a bit, with faint praise for the new and fancy website.

Carefully avoid Libel, Slander, or Profanity.

Do not even disparage a perfectly good and working feminine hygiene product, by likening it to our scum-bag political servants. 

You're representin'.

Maintain impartiality, on the subject of pot.  The stuff''s illegal.  Always operate using, the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy. 

What we're really advocating here, is the Vote.  And we don't mind passionate people being vehemently against pot.

Personally I'm kinda' hopin' to meet up wit' one.

But, I'm still gonna' offer to shake hands with 'em.  Wish 'em luck.  And see how it all turns out on voting day.

Come.  All you Patriotic Citizens and Represent.

Remember always!  See the Future.  They're going to be teaching Kentucky School kids, 'bout what we're doin' up in here, in the VERY NEAR FUTURE!

So keep it tight.

Be provocative.  Be beguiling.  Be enlightening.  Be entertaining.

Fill your poison pen with venom, yet avoid being vitriolic. 

Always defend the innocent and choose your guilty targets wisely and justly.

Then Stephen.  You just go ahead.  Relax.  Get it all outta' your system and enjoy yourself.

Let 'em have it!  All of it!  All the way up to the hilt!

Then SNAP IT OFF!

For, it is the waaaay...of THE LEPRCHAUN. 

Direct your reader's attention to what's happening down here in the unprinted section of the newspaper...the all-electronic Government Forum...where they're featuring MY work, judged only The Best, of all the local writers.

And not a peep outta' any politician...in The Government Forum. 

['Cause, seriously.  Who [REALLY] wants to risk being bent over to have "Prison Bitch" tattoo-ed and tramp-stamped on their sorry...uh...political resumes...by the poison-penned political artist known as...THE LEPRECHAUN?] 

For the poor job my government reps have done in protecting my civil liberties, please avenge me and my right as a citizen, as a sworn officer, as a patriotic public servant, as a super [natural] writer, to be heard up there with the printed word.

Question why I'm being held down here in the dungeon of the unprintables.

Question the schedule of upcoming events, as I've heard nothing from The State's Board of Elections.  And 90 days, since voting day, is rapidly approaching.

Then, gather unto you the Democratically Faithful and head to higher ground, up where we keep the sacred voting booths.  And from that higher perch be prepared to bear witness. I'm about to prove, on a grand scale of near Biblical proportions, that this local writing Samson, is the most powerful man in Kentucky goverment.

Joe O'Bryan.  Election Officer Sheriff.  Commonwealth of Kentucky.

Delusions of Grandeur?

Shoot, Mr. Greenwell.  You'd better recognize!

Right now.  At this moment in Time.  If I begin to write, just a little, of MY INCREDIBLY TRUE, TRUE LIFE STORY.  And, remembering, that I've had the gall to make some pretty...oh soooo very pretty...over the top phrases, pop up on here, just for your personal entertainment, well, Mister Greenwell. 

I AM JOE O'BRYAN. 

I swear to you.  Under Oath.  My story will spin Kentucky around on this Leprechaun's dime!!!

Oops.  Did I just say that [verbally] out loud?  I dunno'.  Who cares?

For all the right reasons, for what I do for you.  You'd better recognize!

I gotta' AARP card comin' in just the very near future. 

Don't know about the rest of you, but this is MY time on this planet.  All of us, soon to expire.  Challen McCoy may you R.I.P.

I don't know about any of your slower Representatives. 

I can only speak for myself, and They ain't been speakin', at all. 

But I'm a Kentucky Gentleman who wields a fair, if not mean, writin' stick. 

With Kentucky, most recently ranked at 50th in the Nation, for worst in just about everything, it's high time some of the smarter citizens step up.

JFK challenged us all, to do so, and I'm just humble Joe O'Bryan. 

Enigma and Boy Genius.  At your service.

I still affiliate myself with a Free-Minded America...

...but it is, after all, now, twenty-eleven. 

Free America is over there, and I know, I know.         We, are over here. 

And that.  As such.  Under the boot of our current oppressive Government.  I can only hope.

But...I Have A Dream...[thank you MLK!]...a dream one day, to be able to publicly write, once again , all about it in the printed press, how we got from here to there. 

Just for you.

Right now, It's just one leprechaun's fanciful pipe-dream, this concept of Free Expression. 

And while we all once had it...we don't all quite have it...anymore. 

But have faith in THE LEPRECHAUN.

I am currently workin' on the problem, workin on gettin' that lost Right restored.

I'm a local, state, and FEDERAL Election Officer. 

I've appealed, and appealed, and appealed, to be heeded.

SIMPLY HEEDED! SIMPLY HEEDED! SIMPLY HEEDED! SIMPLY HEEDED!

And, I can't hear no Representative response. 

And you know us Leprechauns.  You've seen the pictures. 

It's all about the ears, man!  We got some incredibly sensitive, figuratively-pointed, ears. 

Correct me if I'm being delusional, I emanate dizzy whenever my Patriotic blood begins to boil. 

Flares up my condition, you know. 

But after 3 years of knockin', and knockin' and knockin' with nobody listenin', and nobody answerin', not to the citizens and not to the election officers...who are really just lowly citizens...who have been sworn to uphold Democracy in this backwards State that they've been fated, to be born into...and then sworn again...to just One of them deities...

[A Diety being disrespected by Bardstown's Bible Belt community as though It were a Flavor of the Month, sorta' thing.  Whichever diety is currently in political vogue!]

...but with all that swearin', if it's meant to mean anything, can really put them officers, in the HOT spot.

Being watchdogs of Democracy.

What if a Thin Blue Line was blocking the voting booth doors?

Wouldn't matter.

It's still gotta' be...somebody's job.  Steppin' up.  Into the cross-hairs. 

And in such dire circumstances, the denial and deliberate witholding of the Public's Right to Vote, it becomes the Duty of one of us Sworn officers...to break that un-American crap up.  To step up, and make 'The Call'. 

America in Crisis.  A House Divided. 

REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT: OFFLINE-OFFLINE-OFFLINE. 

Send out the alert.

"And it came to pass that the word was sent forth."

PREPARE TO INVOKE DIRECT DEMOCRACY.

And with the safeguard system functioning perfectly in place.  All systems nominal.  Confirming now.  No Yellow-bellied lights on the panel from Representative Government.  That panel went dead.  The blue lights are down.  I say again.  All blue lights are down.  The obstruction you were experiencing, [whatever 'dat was] appears to be gone.  Green.  We have a Green.  All lights are GREEN in the Voting Booths.  You are cleared.  You are a...Go.  Go!  Go!!!  For democratic resolution of the War upon The Plant.

Pro or Con.

Good luck, Kentucky and God Speed...

...when, a couple of clowns in the newsprint business, have to intervene?

They've just got to pull the plug...on me?

[AAAARRRGGGG!!!  Don't...make...me...do this!!!  AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!]

And, the Leprechaun steps up to the plate. 

Tips his cap to the gallery.

Oh, look folks! 

Like a big o' Babe Ruth, this local hometown hero is pointin' that legendary verbal baseball bat he's packin'...and, this time he's pointin' it, waaaay up there.

Up there on the High Ground.

And Boy!

Would you just listen to that hometown crowd, goin' wild a-cheerin' him on. 

I tell ya', Steve.  These Nelson county people really love their hometown boy...and why wouldn't they?  This kid stepped up.  Has a reputation for steppin' up.  He's not afraid of reachin' out for the Brass Ring.  And by doing so, he's changin' the very Planet.  He's some kind of National hero.

Oh.  I don't know about all that  But one thing's for certain.  He's left Bardstown's bad guys with their head a-spinning!  He's a real mind bender.

[insert soundtrack..."Rocky! Rocky! Rocky!"]

Forgive me, Stephen.  They say I am but a dreamer.

I say they're small minds, short-changing a Visionary.

I am THE WAY.  I am THE TRUTH.  I am THE LIGHT...who will guide Kentucky from this unholy abyss.

And your hometown newspaper censors me.  Not because I'm crazy.  But because they have discovered, I am the man who is EVERYTHING he says he is.

I am That Man in Time.

And it frightens them.

[Whisper it to them, Lisa.  Can any of this be True?]

I told them please don't censor me.  It's only a fact.  I'm the monster.  Fated to be, THAT MAN in Time and created by OUR government, to come slay the Prohibition Dragon.

[Show it to 'em.  In print.  Jamie!]

I pleaded to protect a sworn officer's Right to speak up in America during voting seasons.

But they would not relent. 

[Friends.  Anti-Censorship Romans.  Patriotic Countrymen.  Lend me your ears.  I come not to praise Landmark Communications.  But to bury them!  I am so gonna' bury, The Kentucky Standard.]

I did my best, clear-cut hand-written impersonation of Dick Cheney, when I explained it to the two of 'em, that I was under Oath, to be a Gatekeeper of Democracy...To God...And to the Commonweath of Kentucky.

I AM THE U.S. GOVERNMENT!!!

But Stephen.  NONE OF THAT MATTERED!

Dat' ain't right!  This leprechaun ain't no impotent Jedi.  Facts are.  I quake.  The World shakes.  Cain't I make it any simpler, than that?

So, I had to make a dent in the heads of these goons.

I reached into their minds, the way us Leprechauns can do, and from across an Internet distance...I scared 'em. 

Whispered more secrets to them, that right now, only they, and I, know.

Stephen.  Remember when I told you...it's just my true-life story, that's being suppressed?

Dig this...

In the comic book world, Spiderman emerged from a college biology lab, having been bitten by a bug. 

In the real world, back when I was just a 12 year-old leprechaun, the Government came in to my school and built a monster from a kit, [unknowingly] using me for spare parts and upwardly mental mobility.

I didn't have to expose my genes to 'em, but lemme' tell you what OUR government did with me, up there at MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME JUNIOR HIGH that makes me The Man who can now drop the Prohibition Dragon before Kentucky's very feet.

Delusions Of Grandeur?

I AM.  Who AM.  The Epitome.  In no way delusional.  Mr. Greenwell.  The very Definition of Grandeur, itself.

[spit]

'call 'dat a gift.

My True Life Story.

"The Incredibly Strange Case Of Joe O'Bryan"

[to be contiuned...] 

Joe O'Bryan
THE LEPRECHAUN

IMPERIAL GRAND WORD WIZARD
Election Officer Sheriff
Commonwealth of Kentucky