Sh*t happened 12/17/14: Bush's presidential bid, Rick Scott's FDLE upset, AirFest cancellation & more


A ringtone crowed — a techno version of No Doubt's cover of Talk Talk's "It's My Life." Pestilence's horse turned his head and shook his mane, agitated, ready to go. Pestilence patted his pockets; before he could find his phone, a man outside the gelato shop across the street from the carriage roost retrieved his own and silenced it. Pestilence soothed his mount, stroking his neck. "It's not us," Pestilence breathed. "But soon, my partner, very soon. After all, just take a look around."

The horse calmed. "Really, though," said Pestilence with a laugh, "what are the odds?"

Jeb Bush is maybe, possibly considering a run for the White House in 2016. Tea Party conservatives are horrified, because after Mitt Romney and John McCain, they're hoping for a ticket that's somewhere a few miles to the right of Mussolini, and Jeb Bush is sorta, you know ... sane.

Florida governor Rick Scott suddenly ousted the commissioner of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. Everybody in the Scott administration is being crazy tight-lipped about the forced resignation, leading some liberal pundits to suspect the now-former FDLE honcho might have awakened one morning thinking, "Oh, shit, you know who's a massive criminal? Rick Scott." 

Bayfront Tower, St. Pete's oldest condo skyscraper, sprung a leak that left residents without water. My suggestion that residents temporarily bathe outdoors in Williams Park as an "empathy exercise" was met with FANCY, FANCY LAWYERS.

MacDill Air Force Base has canceled its (usually) annual AirFest cavalcade of vintage aircraft, synchronized flying and a whole lot of other stuff that shouldn't really be interesting to enough people to cause traffic issues — but usually does — because of tightened defense budgets. Yup, the sounds, stands and jet fuel of weekend military air shows are paid for out of the U.S. defense budget. Who will defend the children from the crushing boredom? And at what cost?

And finally, the "Dr. Dolittle of St. Petersburg," veterinarian Albert Few, died at the age of 79. Few, who often provided care to lost or stray animals — as well as those whose owners wouldn't or couldn't pay for treatment — and helped fund his daughter's education in veterinary medicine with the caveat that she "never turn away an animal," was an indirect influence on a legion of Tampa Bay no-kill shelters, fosters, rescues and adoption programs. Which makes him a fucking icon, as far as I'm concerned.


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