So close to my mom’s 49th birthday, I can almost smell the wax on the pure chocolat birthday cake.  But it’s time for me, once again, to come clean and confess how much I miss my sister Sue, and the incredible presence of her unique husband!  (How wonderful to be able to handle the English language!)

My sister Mona pretended to be shocked or put off by the fact that my older sister had come out gangbusters for Sarah Palin.  So was I, and I was happy to be able to share with Mona several imaginary wounds coming from our sister’s apostasy.  The fact is that this didn’t prevent one sister from having a helluva good time with the other, and from putting politics aside.  I’m all for that, believe it or not!

My problem is that my sister Sue is either angry or ashamed of my poor failed life.  Compared to hers, it’s true that mine doesn’t hold a candle to such achievements.  I say to myself: my only chance is Marc, Marc Trumpeter, who might be able to trump up a little support for the revolutionary idea of one sister participating in the family blog of her brother.  This may not see the light of day, for reasons that will remain forever sealed from my inquisitive glance — so be it.  Here, however, I’m ready for a fucking wing-dig into the archive of my passion for my oldest sister!  Here goes!

Can you imagine a grown man, with something like a life, despite so many failures (Mona calls these “mistakes”), spending hours on Google earth, shuttling between International Falls and Ely, Minnesota?  Is there any example anywhere on earth of someone who, instead of picking up the phone, prefers all manner of masturbatory scenarios to the quick fix of a voice saying “boy am I ever busy, and so fed up, and long live the advent of a moment that perhaps will never come”?  Can anyone imagine that?  Try me: try me on Ely: I could drive a taxi through Ely and never miss a tip.  It’s true!

But now it’s time to come down to earth, and talk about  the great state of Minnesota.  There is much talk of Minnesota, since Al Franken was confirmed senator from that great state.  I try to imagine my sister’s reaction, and I must confess that I miss her dearly, because there is not only Senator Sue Collins, but there is also Sue Collins, Tom Collins’s sister, which from my humble point of view is far than enough to ensure a place in the memory of the world! 

In our nuclear family, we know then that Sue Collins (sister of Tom) is convinced that Sarah is the future of the party of her heart.  It goes a long way in proving how much I love her, how much I miss her, because the simple fact that she feels the way she does puts me under the obligation of  finding all manner of justification and hidden depth in the broken English of Sarah and her lying ways.  Honest to God, if this would open up a channel between my sister and myself, I would volunteer my services for Sarah’s next campaign.

All kidding aside, Minnesota is a strange place.  Perhaps my sister has grown to be a strange pre-old woman simply because she’s spent so much time in Minnesota.  Take 1982: I was already arguing with my ex-wife Sylvie (who went over big with my sister Sue: I’m sure she struck me off her list of correspondants the day she learned that we had divorced) about this and that, but in Minnesota they had just learned that Rebublican governor Albert Quie had — guess what — dropped out of the reelection campaign before it had even begun.  (Sound familiar?)  The rest is history, and nobody gives a flying something through a rolling donut, but what I retain is that Minnesota is a special place, just as I feel how special my sister is, to everyone she has influenced, beginning with me!

My sister has spirit.  All of you at the family reunion who have played a round of golf, not necessarily with her but close to her round know what spirit is all about.  the closest thing to the verbal antics of my sister on a golf course would be Rahm Emmaneul on any given day.  This spirit is also that of Minnesota.  They vote like crazy: 77.8 percent of them vote!  Can you imagine that?  Is that not mother-fuckin awesome?  Let’s not talk about French participation in the recent European elections, let’s go on about my sister Sue.

Hubert Humphrey hails from Minnesota.  So does Eugene McCarthy.  And Jesse Ventura.  A former pro wrestler, like Franken in fact.  And of course Paul Wellstone, the most liberal, radical politician to have been born in the States in the twentieth century.  And let’s not forget governor Perpich (my favorite) who proposed to install a chopsticks factory in the great state of Minnesota! 

I’m going to post this as it is.  My point was a simple one: now that we know that Sue is serious about Palin, we have to keep our mouths shut because we have Franken.  I think Sue has the shitty end of this stick, but I’m prepared to continue the discussion on an even keel.  Palin and Franken.  Two unlikely political figures on opposite sides of the spectrum, with loads of talent, but perhaps not particularly political talent.  Time will tell.

I hope Mona has the good idea to relay this post to my sister just before the family reunion begins.  I once again wish a very happy birthday to our mother, who deserves to have many more, if only to preserve the precious locus of so many funny and on the mark comments about the world and above all about all extended family!