By Scott Sullivan
Editor
Subpar Sushi Man
Who needs civics classes when we can learn watching local leaders fight over playgrounds? For advanced studies, turn to Traverse City, where two men engaged in what police called a “sword fight” over subpar sushi.
One brought sushi to share at the Traverse Commons homeless encampment last week, prompting the other to swing a machete or hatchet at him. The server swung back with shovel, spurring a mediator to fling feces at them both.
This begs several questions. First, machetes, hatchets and shovels have steel blades in common but decapitate people differently. You’d think cops would know that. Swords you draw from scabbard.
Each is handy to have around should a hotel owner claim you dug holes illegally, but restraint should be exercised in most cases.
Next, if the food’s free, why bellyache? Bill Clinton, who put pot to his lips but did not inhale, was rewarded with two terms as president. Should you mistakenly swallow subpar sushi, just throw up on the server; no need to fling feces at him. If the food’s that bad, who will know the difference? Last time I pitched poo my daughter cried, “Why not Piglet too?”
Donovan’s 1966 hit song “Sunshine Superman” has nothing on Subpar Sushi Man, who I summoned to feed someone starved for more playground news.
“Since the city’s new short-term rental laws,” complained X, “I’ve been forced to camp at this 304-acre compound next to Lake Michigan, but no one’s brought fish.”
“I know just who to call,” I said.
Why my wife named her parrot “Phone Booth” I don’t know, but that’s what I needed; what else can a superhero emerge from? Although cell phones have rendered them extinct, her parrot flew by to drop one off.
“You dangled participles back to back,” the bird squawked.
“Beat it,” I said, just as Subpar Sushi Man burst through doors bearing tako, tamaki caught off the coast of Tacoma, take-out tacos, kamikazes, saba, SDABA and alewives for local flavor.
“This fish ain’t fresh,” the beach billionaire bitched and swung a scythe at him. Subpar Sushi Man scooped up parrot poop and slung it back.
“If you’d bought it before I brought it,” said the superhero, “you’d value it more for each cent you spent.”
Who needs finance classes when you can walk downtown Main Street pregnant with playground gear waiting for installation? I found some stacked and wrapped on pallets, an open faux-stone plastic tunnel, curved slide pieces inside what looked like cellophane, all under eyes of manikins peering through glass of unopen shops.
Few know of Subpar Sushi Man’s twin cousins: Subprime Sucker Man, who floats houseboats from which you can catch fresh fish; and Sublime Succor Man, who knows how to fix them right.
He learned all he needed to know at the Jenison Wendy’s being sued now for $20 million after sickening a Hudsonville girl with E. coli-infected food.
The site had been cited prior for serving moldy and spoiled food, improper hand hygiene, diluted sanitizing solution, food stored at unsafe temperatures and overall dirty premises “at an excessive end of the spectrum,” Ottawa County Health Department records said.
Had she known, she could have at least swung a splork before being diagnosed with life-threatening hemolytic uremic syndrome. Saugatuck-Douglas has seen nothing like it since Kalico Kitchen closed.
I welcome artificial intelligence given lack of actual. In other news last week, Ottawa Impact candidates, known for slogans like “Where Freedom Rings” and “Protect the Children,” filed jointly for rerun terms on the county board.
Rumors their ex-avatar —fired administrator John Gibbs — seeks the Saugatuck city manager’s post have yet to hit social media, which doesn’t mean they’re not true.
Gibbs warmed up for losing his latest job being the first district GOP candidate to lose to a Democrat in 50 years post exit as Donald Trump’s assistant Housing & Urban Development secretary. Maybe he’ll land back at Traverse Commons soon.
Who needs to study law except those determined to circumvent it? What good are shoelaces without loopholes?
It appears now there’s peace in the dug-out valley where pieces of misplaced playground toys can go. Bring your shovels, swords, hatchets, machetes and manifestos in case things do not go smoothly.
Who needs any class at all when you can write fiction and non-friction pieces asking grown-ups to clear the way, let the children play?
