The Meaning of Davenport

In the past, some people have asked me, "What's the big deal with Davenport?" An every time I answer them in the same way, which I share with you today. The reason that Davenport is so great, is that Davenport is just Davenport. Davenport isn't just a city, its a way of life. Davenport is about bitter hatred of the three Quad Cities who are unworthy to be named here. Davenport is about going to Swing of the Quad Cities Games with your best friends dressed as a swing band, then being asked to leave by security. Davenport is going on inane scavenger hunts at John O'Donnel Stadium. Davenport is about going to the post office and having a good time engaging people in conversation. Davenport is about heckling the clowns when the circus comes to town. Davenport is about later tracking those clowns down and heckling them again in the elevator of the Clarion Inn. But mostly, Davenport is about pride. Sweet pride. Davenport Pride. Pride in the name of Love. Love of Davenport. For in reality, Davenport is love.

Proud in Davenport,


Steve

Failure

As some of my readers may know, I am the safety officer of my apartment building. As the safety officer, it is my job to ensure that the health of my fellow tenants. Normally, my job is well respected by my fellows, but today, one man dared to defy my job. Today at approximately 5:30 PM, I was just getting home from work and promptly went upstairs to my apartment to feed Rusty. At 5:45, I heard an argument coming from down the hall. As the safety officer, it is my job to stay aware of the other tenents. As I entered into the hall, I saw a group of five police officers standing outside my nighbor Rob's apartment. After a period of three minutes, Rob was arrested. I later got the story from Old Ms. Pavoratti. Apparently for the past few months Rob has been running a prostitution/drug ring from his apartment.

I feel like a total failure. David has already moved to have me impeached from my post. I had a responsibility, and I failed. I almost wish I was dead. Of course if I did, I would have to report me to myself, and that couldn't possibly work out for the better. Ms. Pavoratti has been very supportive though, I can always count on her for support. I'm not sure that she remembers who I am, but the point is that she is a supporter. And we should all be supportive. Absolutely we should.



Ashamed in Davenport,



Steve

Sunday in Davenport

Howdy folks, how you doin? I'm dandy, thanks for asking. I just spent my sunday not selling cars and it treated me pretty good. I woke up roundabout 10 AM, and promptly fed my golden retriever, Rusty. Rusty is probably my best friend in the world. Some times I wonder if he really is a dog, maybe he's a human trapped in a dogs body because he angered the gods, like that one episode of "The Twilight Zone". I'm just kidding. I'm a god-fearing man. Actually, Yahweh is my best friend. Yahweh as in my brother in car sales. But the other Yahweh is pretty good to.

Anyway, I fed Rusty, then pretty much just spent the day watching ESPN 9's coverage of the 9th Annual Frisbee Golf Tournament. You, know, I could have gone pro in frisbee golf. I was this close. And by this close, I mean I was close. But it was a matter of my father kicking me out of the family if I got a career in such a frivolous sport, and getting kicked out of the family means that I don't get to go to the Christmas party, and my aunt makes some smoking good eggnog, and I honestly don't think that I could live without my aunts eggnog. Its addicting. And that is my sunday in a nutshell, so good evening, happy sleeping and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Stay Wicked Sweet,

Steve