Blogger Finds Himself in the 5000% Tax Bracket

Here is a quick list of activities in which you may have participated in 2009 that would have been more financially-successful "businesses" than the Scotticus Finch blog:

• Accepting gas money for a lift to the airport
• Returning a modest Christmas gift for a refund
• Checking vending machines for forgotten change
• Winning a bet that you couldn't eat a tablespoon of cinnamon

Certainly blogger Sean Barry of Philadelphia wishes he'd chosen one of those routes instead. Because of the $11 in Google AdSense revenue Barry earned over the course of two years, the City of Brotherly Love is hitting him up for a $300 business privilege license.

Marylin Bess received the same demand after claiming about $50 in revenue "over the last few years" from her green-living blog and other freelance writing online. And when Bess contacted the city: "I was told to hire an accountant," she says.

You can't blame the city for extorting every dime it can find, though. After all, Chinese hookers aren't just going to pay for their own responsible-drinking seminars.

Read the whole piece at the Philadelphia City Paper here.

Because You're Never Too Broke for Chinese Hookers

Last week, I bought generic Hamburger Helper to make dinner for baby Wyatt and me.

Hamburger Helper is a food-like product than normally costs around a dollar and a half, but I saved nearly fifty cents by denying the siren song of that creepy severed Mickey Mouse hand mascot. And while the generic version couldn't quite match the lofty prison-cafeteria standards of the real thing, tough economic times dictated I make the sacrifice.

Keep that sacrifice in mind as you watch this three-minute video from the Cato Institute blog:



Here's hoping that many more Congresscritters book trans-Alaskan flights, and soon.

You Think the House was "Disorderly" Before? Just Wait Until SWAT Gets Done with It

I'm already growing calloused to this never-ending parade of isolated incidences, so I'm going to start at the most important problem I found in this article, and that is:

What in the name of Poseidon's wet wedding tackle does the charge "disorderly house" mean?!?

CEDAR RAPIDS – Police in SWAT gear busted through a door and searched a Cedar Rapids home for drugs Thursday morning, but came up empty.

At least 12 officers surprised the tenants at 1135 33rdSt. NE when they arrived around 7 a.m. with a narcotics search warrant. Sgt. Cristy Hamblin, a police spokeswoman, later confirmed that nothing was seized from the house.

No one was taken to jail, but the tenants of the house, Justin Davis, 28, and his girlfriend, Erica Lewis, 26, were charged with disorderly house and signed a promise to appear in court, police said.[emphasis mine]

The end of the article goes on to explain that "'[d]isorderly house' is [a city ordinance] described as a building or room where someone 'resorted to for' illegal activity involving drugs, alcohol, gambling or prostitution..."

So, I ask again, what in the name of Pinocchio's splintered sphincter is "disorderly house", besides a consolation prize for homeowners who didn't satisfactorily play their role in the local police's action drama?

A New Game

First, thank you all for the concerned calls and emails. I know I disappeared as abruptly as I initially burst onto the scene. Unlike Scotticus, I was not kidnapped by nefarious ne’er-do-wells. I was in self-imposed exile and on a terribly painful hunger strike, in the vain hope that my deprivation might call attention to the injustices being perpetrated against one Milorad Blagojevic. (Just “Rod” or “Blago” to you racist Anglophiles out there.) Whatever your take on the strength of the Feds’ case, we can all at least agree that Blago personifies the American dream. “E Pluribus Unum” and “Don’t Tread on Me” be damned! Join with me now in solidarity as we cry out the new American slogan:

“"I’ve got this thing and it’s *%$&ing golden, and, uh, uh, I’m just not giving it up for *%$&in’ nothing!”

Whew, that feels better. Now while I slowly rebuild my strength with Red Bull, Doritos and Alpha King, I’d like to introduce a new game. It’s called:

Nobel Prize-Winning Economist or Dropout Populist Grocery Bagger?

It’s easy: I provide the quote, and you try to tease out which summary appears at the top of the speaker’s resume. Here’s today’s quote:

“When we save a schoolteacher’s job, that unambiguously aids employment; when we give millionaires more money instead, there’s a good chance that most of that money will just sit idle.”

…OK, I know, that was too easy. The elementary understanding of productivity and wealth creation indicated by the “anyone getting paid for anything is a jerb, and that’s unambiguously GOOD” statement, on top of the economically illiterate idea that money invested in stocks, bonds, or bank accounts is “idle” makes clear that this could be none other than… a Nobel Prize-Winning economist.

Thanks, Paulie, and let me know how much you got for your soul.

Repealing the Syntax

I once stopped Red Leader from stealing the Eiffel Tower on the same day I freed hundreds of political prisoners from a North Korean gulag. US Attorney General Gonzalez used to call me "The Human Paddywagon". I convinced Tom Hanks to pass on Waterworld and to check out a little script called Forrest Gump instead.

In short, I've cleaned up more messes than Gallagher's road crew, but nothing I've ever undertaken has even approached the epic magnitude of these guys:

Incensed by a "no tresspassing" sign, Jeff Deck launched a cross-country trip to right grammatical wrongs.

He enlisted a friend, Benjamin D. Herson, and together they got to work erasing errant quotation marks, rectifying misspellings and cutting unnecessary possessive apostrophes.

...

In 2 1/2 months, Herson and Deck traveled the perimeter of the country, exploring towns and cities in search of typos. They found 437 typos, and were able to correct more than half of them.

For anyone who ever tilted his head in disbelief at a sign advertising "Rice Krispie's Treat's" or warning that "Your Being Watched", Deck and Herson are doing gods' work.

Why is Wealth Always Wasted on the Driven and Motivated?

I dreamt I had money.

And not just money, but money. It was two hundred yards of immaculate bluegrass from the lakeshore to my whitewashed chair on a whitewashed deck between white oaks and an avalanche of kudzu, and a humid breeze evaporated the traces of grapefruit juice and Bookers on my top lip. There was nothing to pull me away – no meeting, no timeclock, no errand – and if the notion took me, I could have lethargessed in that chair for a month.

And that’s exactly why – outside of a dream – I will likely never find myself in that chair. An interviewer once reportedly asked Warren Buffett why he wasn’t content to stop at, say, a billion dollars and spend the rest of his life relaxing. Buffett tersely replied that anyone who aspired to stop working didn’t have it in them to ever become wealthy in the first place. I’m despondently certain he’s right.

Given the means and the time, I wouldn’t collect cars or finance films or tend topiaries, so there are no secret clues to what my destined vocation really is. Given the means and the time, I would sit in the sun and read for days on end. That’s it. And don’t tell me I’d get bored. Like the midlife salesman who swallows his fury every time someone tells him "Oh, I enjoy traveling! I think I’d like that!", equally complete is my dismissal of the limits of my languidness.

In a literal sense, of course money can’t buy happiness. But it can buy a functional copy of The Great Gatsby*, a whitewashed chair, and two hundred yards of immaculate lakefront bluegrass. Explain to me the difference.

*Yes, I get the irony.

Coeds with Cell-Phone Guns Overrun Several Arizona Farms, Take Our Jobs, Begin Chemtrailing

My injuries are severe, but not fatal. (It takes more than a blast from Red Leader's feral wave inducer to stop ol' Finchy!) While I'm on the mend, please accept this post reprinted in its entirety from Radley Balko's blog The Agitator.

Another arrest for shooting video of an on-duty cop, this time in Ohio.

When a deputy sheriff began questioning Melissa Greenfield’s boyfriend at a Delaware County truck stop, she began recording video with her cell phone.

She never thought that she, or her phone, could be viewed as a danger as she documented the activities of public employees in a public place.

"I’m a 115-pound, 20-year-old girl wearing a cervical collar with nothing but a cell phone. I was not going to harm any officer," Greenfield said yesterday.

However, a sheriff’s sergeant saw the situation differently after Greenfield announced that she was recording video "for legal purposes and our own safety."

Sgt. Jonathan Burke wrote that he repeatedly ordered Greenfield to place the "unknown" object in her pocket and keep her hands free. When Greenfield refused, she was arrested and charged with obstructing official business and resisting arrest.

Burke wrote in his report that he feared that Greenfield could have been holding a dangerous object such as a "cell-phone gun"...

"Not knowing what the item in her hand was and having prior knowledge of all types of hidden weapons, including a cell-phone gun, I asked her several times to place it in her pocket and to keep her hands free," Burke wrote.

Greenfield said that, while driving her to the jail, Burke said that it was "unacceptable for me to be filming his activities."

"I wish I could be surprised," she said, "but I’ve heard so many stories of incidents like this happening before. ... There’s no law against videotaping police encounters."

Emphasis mine, to draw attention to the utter inanity of Dep. Burke’s report.

Greenfield is right. There’s no law in Ohio against videotaping police encounters. Unfortunately, there’s also no punishment for cops who violate the rights of Ohioans who try to do it. Delaware County Sheriff Walter L. Davis III is defending Dep. Burke and his cell-phone gun fears.

Greenfield says when she got the phone back, the video had been erased. Davis denies any of his deputies erased the video. Must have been a glitch.

Greenfield spent three days in jail. She pled no contest to the obstructing official business charge and was fined $20.

Also, depending on how you like the site redesign, it was either all my own inspired work, or the unauthorized meddling of the interns while I was bedridden.

From Hell's Heart, I Blog at Thee

I don’t have much time.

For the last month I have been held captive in some sort of highly-secured windowless cell. I am perpetually blindfolded, but based on the sickening odors, I have deduced that I am either downwind of a dysenteric Tibetan yak farm or somewhere in Detroit.

I cajoled a guard into allowing me to use his iPhone by promising him I could copy over all the contacts stuck on his old phone, so I only have time for a quick post and maybe three hands of Party Poker.

Do not forsake me, my Scotticus Finch acolytes. Like the heroic Balloon Boy, I will inevitably pop up inexplicably close to where you last saw me, none the worse for wear, and just as misanthropic as you remembered.

Mostly, I can’t wait to escape so I can finally find out what ingenious plan British Petroleum and President Obama implemented to quickly and efficiently stop that silly little oil leak in the Gulf. Remember that? What a slightly inconvenient nuisance that must have been for a few fish in the immediate area and absolutely no one else on Earth. USA! USA! USA!

It'd Be a Real Shame if Something Were to Happen to One of Them...

So I've got a case coming up before the local judge. Everybody says I'm going to lose, and that I better prepare for the worst. But I'm not so sure. As I explained to a reporter yesterday about the judge in my case:

"He'll see - maybe he will see the light of day. Maybe he will have an incident and he'll change his mind over night - you know, going to and from work."

You know, an incident.

OK, so that wasn't me. Even if it was me, it wouldn't be credible, seeing as how the closest I get to the city's underbelly is that one bar where the bartenders are a little surly. But it's actually a little scary when it comes from the head of Chicago's Machine himself, Richard Daley, talking about the freaking U.S. Supreme Court.

Later in the press conference Daley got tired of insinuating, or at least hoping for, violence and "jokingly" threatened to shove a bayoneted rifle up a local reporter's butt and also to shoot him with it.

Cleaning House... Or at Least Cleaning a Spot On One Rug Near the Guest Bedroom

The angry electorate has roared! The nation is gripped by an anti-incumbent furor! It's open-season on the bums!

So whaddaya think - will 40% of incumbents go down in November? 50%? 75%? Hold onto your hats, folks - 2010 will be the biggest shakeup in Washington since the Reagan Revolution of 1980 if we replace... 26% of Senators and 13% of House members seeking reelection. And don't forget that only about a third of the Senate is up for reelection in any election year; we're really getting revolutionary if we toss 9 whole Senators this year (for hardcore math types, that's 100 Senators / 3 * 26%, rounded up to the next whole powerhungry slug).

Count me among libertarians strongly in favor of a Constitutional amendment implementing term limits on Congresscritters.* Because we collectively make terrible exterminators.


*For those interested, yes, this statement is consistent with libertarian views. Libertarian != anarchist. I believe there is a short list of proper functions of a government, most of which can be summed up by its role as enforcer of nonagression. If it must exist, it must have structure (to bind it); term limits give structure just like the seperation of powers and the bicameral Congress.

DHS Asks States to Help Justify Their Bloated Budget

Jim Harper, writing for the too-good-for-a-comments-section Cato@Liberty blog, remarks on a doozy of a memo from the Department of Homeland Security:

Here’s a window onto the upside-down way government spending works. The Department of Homeland Security has sent a letter to states begging them to spend federally provided money on implementing REAL ID, the national ID law.

"DHS is regularly asked by members of Congress, as well as the Office of Management and Budget, if these funds are needed by the states, and whether these funds should be reallocated to other efforts," writes Juliette Kayyam of [the DHS] Office of Intergovernmental Affairs. "As both the states and the Federal government face increasingly tough budgeting decisions, it is more important than ever that these available funds be utilized."

That’s right: Tough budget times make it imperative to spend more money.

Check out the memo here (.pdf), and keep in mind how quickly any branch office of a well-run business would be shuttered for engaging in this kind of accounting tomfoolery. DHS isn't asking states to "use it or lose it," which is defensible; it is imploring states to dig deep into their collective imaginations and come up with ways to spend this money.

As Harper's closing points out: "It's flabbergasting."

A Very Long Straw

Stop me if you've heard this one before. Some guys from BP walk into a bar. One of them orders a milkshake. The other pulls out a very long straw...

Freedom Loaf

Mrs Finch was out of town for a week and I was left to hunt and/or gather my own food. For six out of seven days, I subsisted mostly on packets of unsweetened Kool-Aid mix and potpourri, but on day seven -- glorious day seven! -- I reached deep into the pantry and created a meal. Gentle readers, I give you... The Freedom Loaf*:

1 lb ground beef
1 egg, beaten like Gordon Brown
1/2 cup O'Charley's honey mustard
1/2 cup ketchup
1/4 cup Frank's Red Hot sauce
1 tbsp Dale's Steak Seasoning
1 tsp chipotle chile powder
2 cups garlic and onion croutons, pummeled angrily to dust
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mush everything into a big pale greyish lump and plop into any pan with sides (1" or deeper). Cook uncovered for one hour. Remove from oven using clean(ish) bathmat since you can't find a potholder. Scrape the fat drippings from the edges to give to your dogs, then slice meatloaf and serve with Cool Ranch Doritos or Nutter Butters.

*That's right. Scotticus Finch's milestone 100th post is a meatloaf recipe. Deal.

Goofus and Gallant, Special Illinois Edition

Gallant says, even though he is a police officer, he should be treated like everyone else.

Goofus tries to prove it by getting drunk, firing a gun outside a bowling alley, and waiting to see if he gets convicted.

He did not.

Bonus seek-and-find for the kids: Try and spot the minor drug possession arrest!

One of These Days, I’ll Give to NPR

OK, not likely, but they certainly set the clock back a few more months this morning (and I admit, I do feel a twinge of guilt every pledge drive in the seconds it takes me to lunge toward the radio and change the channel). The peoples’ radio also provided evidence that the proliferation of new media sources, and the corresponding decline of the old, allows for a more informed demos (and certainly not a crisis requiring a bailout).

Here’s how it happened: I’m rockin’ along this morning to the sweet sounds of Steve Inskeep and Renee Montagne, and find myself being informed about the trusting nature of today’s yoots toward the federal government. I’m hearing about a huge gap in trust between those under 30 and the rest of us toward Unca’ Sam. The evidently trusting Millennials are contrasted with the “never trust anyone over 30” Flower Children. For evidence we get saccharine quotes from Brittany (“I feel like they are trying to do what's best for us and their constituents.”) and Tucker ("It gives you hope, and that hope turns into trust in the government, because you believe that things can change — or like good things can happen.”) Like, indeed. Are we on the verge of a statist paradise, where Potemkin despots dance naked under rainbows with their perpetually naïve serfs?

Alas, that proud day isn’t as close as it sounded this morning. I’ve read the NPR transcript now and can see that I missed the one “it’s worth noting that” that would’ve somewhat clued me in, but it was only upon seeing the survey in question on Hit'n'Run that I discovered the results of the story’s foundational survey. In fact, NPR themselves had previously run the results under a headline of “Trust In Government Hits Near-Historic Low.” It turns out 20% of those over 30 agreed with the statement “Do you trust the federal government to do what is right?” And those youthful revolutionaries? 32% of them agreed.

I have seen our future, and it is cynical. And it is good.

(Also, if you only get your news from one source - start practicing your naked rainbow dance.)

Terrible Title, Depressing Themes, Susan Sarandon... HBO Must Hate Me

You Don’t Know Jack has been playing on a near-continuous loop on forty-two of the forty-six HBO stations lately. Starring Al Pacino as the infamous assisted-suicide advocate Dr Jack Kevorkian, Know Jack treats the viewer to an interminable* and macabre parade of heart-wrenchingly desperate invalids, each one begging Kevorkian for a means to end their suffering without leaving their loved ones to dig a bullet out of the headboard.

Liberty’s most basic premise is ownership of one’s body, so most of my gentle readers can likely extrapolate their own Finch-worthy argument in support of Kevorkian’s efforts. What struck me from the film, though, was the unexpected nausea induced by his methods. After losing access to the planned site for Kevorkian’s first assisted suicide at the last minute, the doctor carried out the procedure in the back of his VW van rather than pulling the plug* for the day and rescheduling. His apparatus for administering the lethal drug cocktail was jerry-rigged from secondhand bits of mismatched aluminum and binder clips, and –- in the most upsetting scene of the film -– when Kevorkian began trying to reduce how much gas it took to achieve termination, one elderly man was subjected to saying goodbye to his wife from inside a miserable-looking Scotch-tape and Saran Wrap gas-retention tent which bore striking resemblance to a grade-school astronaut costume.

Don’t misunderstand; the melodramatic pageantry of post-death rituals these days is atrocious and generally exploitative. But considering nearly every one of Kevorkian’s cases left behind the deceased’s loved ones who will forever struggle with their own decision to "let" the suicide happen, the doctor owed them a bit more effort in terms of professionalism. According to the film, Kevorkian himself reached this same epiphany from jail but was stymied by a government committed to suffocating* his plans to open an end-of-life clinic in the US.

A life so painful that death seems winsome is positively unimaginable, but an eternal solution that strips any dignity from one’s final moments manages to make it worse. Government needs to stand aside and let the market perfect this process.


*Get it?

Missouri Drug Raid Video

As promised, here is the video mentioned in (Redacted)'s post on the February Missouri SWAT raid. As the video plays out -- particularly as the man in custody realizes his family pet has been killed in his kitchen and his seven-year old son sits terrified on the floor -- ask yourself why on Earth he couldn't have just been arrested on his way to the mailbox.

Battlefield: Grover's Corners

Thanks, Scotticus, for making a little room for the O.G. freedom fighter. (Okay, okay, freedom grouser.) Let's just say I was grousing the good grouse back when Scotticus still thought GM and Goldman Sachs were run by Hank Reardon and not James Taggart. But enough with the intro and on with the show. I'll try to post something less painful in the near future to make up for this sucker punch.

First off, I strongly support the legalization of most, if not all, drugs that are currently illegal in the U.S. My fundamental reason for that position is that I believe we are not free while living under an authority that has control over our use of our own bodies in ways that do not violate the rights of others. To paraphrase Bosephus, if you get stoned and sing all night long, ain't none of my business. (Aside to make it painfully clear: I favor strict prosecution of any true crimes - those involving the violation of nonconsenting persons' rights - a person commits, regardless of their state of intoxication; that is, intoxication by any substance is no defense.) I also understand that reasonable people can disagree about drug legalization (though of course I'm right :-)

What I think is indefensible, and a point on which I do not believe reasonable people can disagree, are the tactics increasingly used in the prosecution of this "War on (Some) Drugs". Through the explosive use of SWAT teams over the past 30 years our police have become militarized and are being deployed in ways fit for a battlefield in Afghanistan, not against nonviolent citizens of Grover's Corners, USA (nor South-Central LA) who may posses intoxicating substances not granted the Big Brother Seal of Approval. Tactics include: predawn raids on family homes (yes, with small children present); teams of SWAT police armed with fully automatic rifles, tear gas, and flash-bang grenades (these ain't firecrackers - they are so bright they blind you for 5 seconds and explode with a blast louder than a 747 on takeoff, but in your living room); no-knock entry; and basing raids on the testimony of known liars who receive reduced sentences for providing information - true or not. These raids were conducted over 100 times a day as of 2006 and based on SWAT team funding have likely increased in frequency since then. They have resulted in the violent deaths of "criminals" guilty of nothing but possessing an intoxicant unapproved by our overlords, as well as people innocent of even that "crime" who were unlucky enough to live at an address raided incorrectly. Don't forget the many family pets killed, and even some of the raiding police officers. And it is entirely because the police themselves are taking a nonviolent situation and making it intensely violent.

Unfortunately, most of these incidents go unreported by the majority of our state-tonguebathing media. When they do make news, reporters almost never question the accounts provided by the police involved, regardless of those accounts' preposterousness. There are some true reporters who dig deeper (as Scotticus has mentioned, Radley Balko is exhibit A: www.theagitator.com; he also writes for Reason and for the Cato Institute), so thankfully there is some information available. But as much as all those stories can boil the blood, a video brings it home like nothing else. Presented now for your edification is a 5 minute video of a nighttime SWAT raid of a family home in Columbia, MO with the suspect - a nonviolent man suspected of possession of marijuana - and his wife and 7-year-old child at home. Please watch the video and ask yourself what crime would justify these police actions. I am going to assume possession of a small amount of an intoxicating substance far less dangerous than alcohol makes the list.

Here's the newspaper account.

Bottom line: Police are not soldiers, drug users are not an opposition force, U.S. neighborhoods are not battlegrounds. There is no war and dead citizens are not collateral damage.

"And Now I Know for Sure, I Just Added More Guys to My Wolf Pack"

The Scotticus Finch talent scouts and headhunters have been hard at work the last few weeks trying to lock down contracts on some new contributing columnists for the blog. After several false starts, the team has convinced me we cannot actually charge writers a fee to contribute here, and that somehow we should be focusing on enticing them instead.

Hrmph. You kids, with your Super Nintendos, your Huey Lewis rock and roll music, and your expectations of being compensated for work...

So keep an eye out for the "posted by" line after each post in the coming months. I am not yet at liberty to divulge the names of our most-promising targets, but let's just say that if you've spent much time loitering behind the downtown YMCA or standing in line for Rob Schneider films, you're already familiar with the type of folks we're after.

(And to Naomi Klein: Please stop sending muffin baskets to the office. It ain't happening.)

Title explained -- as if I needed to -- here.

Seattle Boy Makes a Wish, Superpowered Blogger Cries Like a Woman

I got a significant amount of flak for my rail against Cormac McCarthy's The Road last month. As an active misanthrope with pessimistic proclivities, the fledgling joy I find in life comes from those bright, unexpected moments -- your favorite song on the radio just as you start the car, clear sunny skies on your day off, a toddler cracking up at his own reflection. Those moments simply didn't exist in McCarthy's world.

Thankfully they do in ours:

Thursday was shaping up to be just another school day for 13-year-old Erik Martin, but then something extraordinary happened: Spider-Man called.

Spider-Man happens to be one of the few people who knows that Erik, too, has a secret identity — he's Electron Boy, a superhero who fights the powers of evil with light.

And Spider-Man needed Erik's help.

Erik, who is living with liver cancer, has always wanted to be a superhero. On Thursday, the regional chapter of the Make-A-Wish Foundation granted him that wish with an elaborate event that involved hundreds of volunteers in Bellevue and Seattle.[...]

Pulling off a wish like this one required a big story, and a lot of heart. And so, with a note of panic in his voice, Spider-Man explained the dilemma: "Dr. Dark" and "Blackout Boy" had imprisoned the Seattle Sounders [soccer team] in a locker room at Qwest Field. Only Electron Boy could free them.

Erik got into his red-and-blue superhero costume, and called on the powers of Moonshine Maid, who owns a DeLorean sports car. For good measure, more than 20 motorcycle officers from the Bellevue Police Department and King County and Snohomish sheriff's offices escorted Electron Boy to Seattle.

"They shut down 405 — they shut down I-90," marveled Moonshine Maid, aka Misty Peterson. "I thought it would just be me, in the car."

At Qwest Field, Electron Boy was directed by frantic fans to the Sounders locker room, where the entire team was shouting for help behind jammed doors. With a little help from Lightning Lad, the alter ego of local actor Rob Burgess, Erik opened the door with his lightning rod. The Sounders cheered.[...]

Electron Boy seemed a little dazed by his powers. Out on Qwest Field, the Sounders gave Erik a hero's congratulations, posed for pictures and gave him a jersey and autographed ball.

Everyone was startled when, overhead, the Jumbotron crackled to life.

"Electron Boy, I am Dr. Dark and this is Blackout Boy," sneered an evil voice, as the villain — Edgar Hansen, and his sidekick Jake Anderson, both of Discovery Channel's "Deadliest Catch" — taunted the young superhero. "We are here to take over Seattle and make it dark!"

On the Jumbotron, a video showed a Puget Sound Electric employee Jim Hutchinson trapped in the top of his bucket truck in front of PSE's Bellevue headquarters. Only Electron Boy could save him.[...]

More than 250 PSE employees gathered outside the company's headquarters and cheered as Electron Boy freed the trapped worker. "It was so loud, people in office buildings were looking out the window," said Make-A-Wish communications director Jeannette Tarcha.

But Dr. Dark and Blackout Boy were still at large. Electron Boy got a tip that the evil duo were at the Space Needle, where they had disabled the elevator and trapped people on the observation deck. Racing back to Seattle, Electron Boy stepped out of the DeLorean to a cheering crowd of dozens of admirers, and confronted his nemesis.

"How did you find us, Electron Boy?" Dr. Dark demanded.

Erik wordlessly leapt at Dr. Dark with his lightning rod, freezing the villain. Then he unlocked the elevator and freed the people trapped upstairs.[...]

Seattle City Councilwoman Sally Bagshaw stepped forward with a key to the city and a proclamation that Thursday was Electron Boy Day. Afterward, Erik posed for the TV cameras, flexed his muscles and spent some time astride a Bellevue police motorcycle.[...]

Watching her son run across the plaza in front of the Space Needle, mom Judy Martin said Erik goes to school when he's able, but is often too tired. "He hasn't had this much energy in a long time," she said. "They called it the power of the wish, and they're right."

Like any good superhero, Electron Boy kept his innermost thoughts to himself. But he did have one important thing to say:

"This is the best day of my life."

From the Seattle Times here. Cormac McCarthy's powers are no match for Erik.