Mayor Mary Jane Dolan, mayor of Lynchburg, Virginia, I am asking you yet again to go to the blog titled:
and answer the question. Is the story fact or is the story, fiction? You know that it is only going to be a matter of time before some intrepid reporter digs deep and then sticks a microphone in your face asking that same question. You may as well come clean and get it over with.
Now in the previous blog, I did not go into much detail, but tell your constituents about your former employees, Mitzi and Gretchen. Tell your constituents what they did and what you did about what they did. Tell your constituents about your stance on law and order and what should happen to criminals when they commit crimes.
I’m about to help you go down memory lane because I know that you are quite nostalgic about your younger years seeing as how you look like shit now. Old age ain’t wearing well on you, it really isn’t. I remember that house you all lived in that you had to drive down a really steep hill to get to and my mother used to complain about the ice and her spinning out of control trying to reach that particular home of yours. She hated going over there because she found snake skin in the basement all the time and you must know that my mother is terrified of snakes. I remember that beautiful dog you had named, “Buffy.” She was a beautiful golden retriever. I remember one day, your daughter invited me to go swimming in your pool, but I declined. I did not have my own bathing suit and I was averse to wearing someone else’s even though my mother did the laundry quite well, didn’t she? Of course she did since you begged her to come back to work for you when you moved yet again further away from Lynchburg and expected her to drive a great distance for the same pay. She sure showed you, didn’t she? But I digress as usual.
My mother used to have us come to your house to help and I do remember having to clean your dear departed husband’s study and I was quite aghast at the stacks of Penthouse and Playboy magazines I found in there. But of course he was the CEO and president of a major company here until another company bought that one out and threw his ass to the curb. I wonder why he was never able to find another CEO or president position or any other job for that matter. George Stewart carried your husband, didn’t he and when Stewart died, there went your husband’s clout; out the door along with his racist ass. But now, dead dude has been heralded as the second coming of Christ simply because he croaked, but before he did, he donated some money to some charities like that makes everything one does in life, okay. NOT! So, please understand that when a person helps out the housekeeper, they are privy to much shit that goes on in other peoples’ homes. When you won’t clean your own home or business and you hire someone to do that then you know what comes with the territory, right? Riiiiiight.
Now remember, my mother did not just clean your house, but she also cleaned your business and she saw who worked there and even if she didn’t, she told me things that a little bird whispered in her ear, little things that I had the good sense to record. And who would that little bird be, Mary Jane Dolan, mayor of Lynchburg, Virginia? Would you happen to know who that little birdy was? Let me ask you a question. Are you still using your ‘traction’ pulley for when your back is out? And I was the one who got your laundry out of the basement when my mother was too scared to go down there due to the snake skin all over the place. So, I even know what your underwear looks like. And your dear departed husband’s drawls was the size of a barn. I was also the one who helped clean many of the rooms. I know so much about you guys because we had the run of the house, cleaning it and all. So, do you really think that I don’t know what you did mayor? And how is your dead husband’s son doing these days? You know, the one who got the basement as his room. Poor fellow, roomed with the snakes. He was the only one I felt bad for, at that time but not anymore. And thank you for telling my mother on me back then for asking you about coming to the hayride. I got so used to everyone telling my mother about me swinging from chandeliers in hotel bars, sipping champagne out of my stiletto heel while clinging to the chandelier and staggering to my car, drunk. Who cares? I was over 21. But I never did anything, dishonest. How bout you? But believe me, that tattletale shit won’t work now. Ask her.
I’m going to leave it here for now, but tune in next week for more details on why you should resign Mayor Mary Jane Dolan because now that I’ve been going down memory lane, I’ve just got SO many memories. Pig roasts, hayrides, meetings and so much more. Stay tuned and try not to age any more. You look bad enough already.