Yet another personal letter, this time to a thief:

Dear Asshole(s) who stole my Obama sign out of my front yard,

Fuck you. We live in a democracy and I'm aloud to support candidates on my own property, and also? I paid for that sign. I can see why you might be so threatened by the measly Obama sign in our mostly white, upper class neighborhood of Carrolwood where Obama is a huge danger to your way of life. My sign is likely to persuade the thousands upon thousands of people who drive down our col-de-saq every day to suddenly change their minds and vote for Obama. Very likely. And if that happened? Holy shit! If your taxes go up to a reasonable and responsible amount instead of being cut because you make over 250,000 a year, you might just be aiding the economy and people who are worse off than you - and our country might actually get out of this shit hole cesspool we've belly flopped in to...we just wouldn't want that now, would we?

Or maybe you just didn't think my sign fit in with the rest of the decor. This is the view from my front yard. Honest to god. No joke. only my front yard.

I know these are shitty pictures, but let the red arrows be your guide. Especially for that fucking billboard my neighbor has.

So, go to hell. We live in a democracy and what I am doing is voicing my opinion as an American, what you are doing is immature and illegal. Because did I mention I paid for that sign?

-Sarah

P.S. I just went online and bought several more signs and had them rushed delivered even though I can't really afford that right now. Both for me and my one other lowly neighbor who had her Obama sign stolen as well. So, keep stealing, I'll keep putting signs out.

Something about hell and freezing and improbabilities and such...

Baseball season just last year when people would walk around the beach handing out tickets for - do I dare say begging - people to attend a Devil Rays game.

So we drop the devil and go to the world series. Some might say God had something to do with this.


I don't say that, but I see where the connection can be made.

Me, Joanna, T-Pai, Jana, Mary and some guy wanting in our picture

They kept putting the five of us on the jumbo-tron so often that by the 4th inning, people were leaving their seats to come and find where we were sitting, just so they could be on the jumbo-tron, too. I want to be clear that I'm not trying to brag about being on the jumbo-tron constantly that day, but illustrating the point of how few people were there.