John Boston | Elect Mr. SCV as Your Next SCV Congressman…

John Boston

Thought you beloved SCV people should know before you read it in the tabloids. I’m running for the Santa Clarita Valley’s recently vacated 25th Congressional District seat, provided, of course, it’s been properly washed.

I am doing it for the children.

And, for the pet owners.

When elected, I shall work tirelessly, creating endless legislation making it mandatory for dogs and cats to get along. After that, it’ll be a cake walk for people.

I was going to put in — “slippery slope” — instead of — “cake walk.” But, with the recent Love That Knows No Name fully illustrated adventures of our former congressperson, I didn’t think it would get past the watchful eye of The Signal’s nihilist copy desk.

Under an avalanche of enough sexual peccadillos to make a Fellini film festival, our Washington representative resigned Sunday. It must have been tough to handle. I know when things go south for me, I lose myself emotionally in a big, giant, Poke bowl.

I wonder what she did?

Who will I run against? There’ll be the usual tedious slack-jawed GOP visionaries, touting resumes filled with decades of vanilla and middle management doldrums. What will they offer you, the voters?

Let me guess. 

“Vision for Santa Clarita?” Better: “A NEW Vision for Santa Clarita.” Promises to appoint blue ribbon committees of the daft, connected and elderly to further study the matter? Hire More Teachers/Fire More Teachers? Roads? Jobs? Jobs For Roads? Roads For Jobs? After I whip their sorry somnambulistic GOP butts, I’ll face the Jackass Party candidate. It’ll be another tedious liberal bozo disguising themselves as sane just like the last tedious liberal bozo-ette.

I’ve no advice for my upcoming Democratic opponent, save for if you’re in an open relationship — close it.

For the children.

I haven’t held office since 12th grade. I was Hart parliamentarian. Back then, we were a small town of 48 people. I was the only person in the valley who could spell, “parliamentarian.”

Granted. Times have changed. “Santa Clarita” has become synonymous with an online TV show on cannibalism.

Created by Democrats, the show was pro-cannibalism. 

Our last D.C. rep resigned for turning the SCV into a porno meme factory and world laughingstock. Reindeer and people in Lapland were hurting their necks, leaning into their computer screens…

Geez. How can a guy top that and serve in Congress?

I’ve no nude photos of myself. I’m tattoo-less, although, I do have a series of moles that, when one squints, could pass for the constellation Orion. I shower alone. Not so much out of preference, but because of a 1974 felony-ish misunderstanding resulting in a court restraining order involving a women’s semi-pro water polo team in Winnipeg.

I still feel it was mutual consent.

It only gets worse. I’m the only person of my generation to NOT take drugs. No fooling. No heroin. No coke. No marijuana. No healthy dollop of Vick’s VapoRub dissolved under the tongue or served on Wheat Thins as an appetizer.

Vick’s VapoRub.

It’s a Gateway Drug.

I promise you this. If elected, I’ll launch a time-consuming, multi-billion-dollar investigation as to just who this guy, Vick, is.

Our last congresswoman resigned. I wasn’t following the story. By the time details got to me, they made it sound like our former representative was accused of being in a complicated sexual tryst involving midgets, the CalArts Pep Squad, 50 gallons of latex paint, Vick’s VapoRub of course and 1,106 Rotarians from Palmdale. 


Can you imagine?

Palmdale? Everyone looks like a dehydrated Katy Perry, only with 9-inch foreheads, Halloween teeth and disinterested insect meth stares. Thanks to her, the SCV is now famous for being the home of the “throuple.” That’s sexual relations amongst three people. Sexual relations with 1,106 Rotarians is a van accident carrying Hieronymus Bosch and Edvard Munch paintings.

Group sex? Old-fashioned me again. I have a short attention span. How ever would I find my underwear?

Our former federal official complained that the threatened release of hundreds of naked pictures and saucy texts was “Revenge Porn,” courtesy of her pervy ex hubbie.

I’m no biblical scholar. But isn’t Revenge Porn one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

The name of Elizabeth Warren’s imaginary TV Indian sidekick?

If our former congresswoman hadn’t skedaddled, she’d be confronting me at a 2020 Mighty Signal Debate. I’m asked a trenchant question. It’s on Universal Health Care for All — Including Transgender French Midget Mimes. I give the boilerplate intelligent conservative response: “NOT with MY damn bloody money, Bosco…!!”

I’ve a rocky road ahead to become your next SCV congressman.

When I fill out my application, will I have to answer a question about my sexual preference?

I’ll just go with the truth: 

“Unwilling Participant.”

After all.

It’s for the children.

John Boston is a local writer. And, just maybe, your next congressman. To help, bring $7 million in unmarked campaign dollars to the rusting 1953 Ford pickup nonchalantly parked along Highway 126, at the Ventura County line sign…

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