Buffalo, NY— You’ve heard it for four years: “How could the Poles have been  so wrong?”  “I thought the Poles were scientific and reliable?” “I’ll never trust the Poles again!”

2016 made a lot of people feel betrayed by the Poles. Some of us swore to never even look at a Pole again. But is that an overreaction? To figure that out, I needed to interview some of the REAL blue-collar folk who have their fingers on the pulse of this election. I put on my investigative hat and went out to Broadway-Filmore where I hoped to get some hard facts about local poles.

You can watch the full piece tonight at 11, but here are a few highlights:

Bogdan Kowalski – “The Poles were NOT wrong in 2016; people just didn’t know how to read them. Poles can be tricky to understand. In fact sixty percent of Poles have a significant margin of error. Last night I thought my wife was showing approval for some late night sausage tucking. She was not.”

Adam Wójcik – “There are a lot of fake Poles out there. You know, Poles that just say whatever the lamestream media wants them to say. It’s not always easy to spot an authentic Pole. Unless you see them in the shower, if you catch my drift.”

Len Kasprzak – “It’s these kids nowadays, they never say what they mean. Back when I was young you could trust the Poles no matter what. If they said that middle-aged chimney sweeps were voting for Hoover, you could take that to the bank!”

Lucasz Ostrowski – “Did Lena put you up to this? You know what a cold November wind can do to a pole??”

Later in the evening I made my way to Kasper Gorski’s Gentlemens Club “Poles on Poles” to talk with the owner about how he saw 2020 playing out. “We have too many polls these days. Back when I was a child in Warsaw, they released a poll about Poles maybe twice a year. Now every three days there’s a new poll!” I glanced toward his employees and mentioned that poles could be slippery things, at which point he asked me to leave. (Out in the parking lot one of his patrons offered to show me a pole he pays a lot of attention to; while it didn’t do much to shed light on next Tuesday, it was quite impressive.)

While the Poles are admittedly all over the place, there’s two things they agreed on: (1) a minimum of 1000 Poles are needed for accuracy in any polling group, and (2) get your ass to Wisconsin.

By David P. Zach– Senior Mud Contributor

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Buffalo NY—A 911 call was placed by Kaisertown resident Stan Dombrowski when his wife, Marion became unresponsive during an extended session of coitus. The couple had recently resumed their long dormant sex life with the help of modern medicine.

Mature Kaisertown Woman Stumbles Onto Secret For Mind Blowing Sex

First responders from Rural/Metro Emergency Services responding to the call at the couple’s Willet Street home, said the traumatized seventy-four woman was in a state of extreme elation with an elevated body temperature that was red-hot to the touch. Efforts to revive Mrs. Dombrowski as she drifted off moaning: “Stan the man; Stachu, my monster; Never stop Stan,” were unsuccessful.

Police were called when moments after attempts to revive Mrs. Dombrowski failed, her distraught husband seemingly admitted to first responders that he accidentally killed his wife.

Paramedic Carl Riptide who treated Mrs. Dombrowski, said that though distressed and perhaps going into a state of shock Stan Dombrowski repeated over and over again: “Oh my god, I killed Marion with my dick.” He further added, “I can’t believe it, I fucked Marion to death.”

According to statements made to the police, the Dombrowski’s were antique shopping earlier in the day when Stan became extremely agitated with the activity. Though his wife was well aware of his agitation and his overall disdain for antiquing she kept pushing and pushing him until they ended up at Wendell’s House of Bed Frames on New York-Pennsylvania border. Police said the extreme anger led Stan Dombrowski to take several extra doses of the medicine that aided his sexual functioning with the intent to kill his wife for putting him through: “ . . . a half day of this antiquing bullshit.”

Since Stan Dombrowski clearly admitted to wanting to kill his wife with sex, police felt it was a premeditated act with intent, and were compelled to refer the case to the District Attorney’s office.

No time table has been set to review the case and Dombrowski was released on his own recognizance. In the meantime, police removed all the little blue pills from his medicine cabinet and stopped his prescription at CVS.    

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Buffalo NY—After years of a shaky sexless marriage Marion Dombrowski of Kaisertown finally talked her way too proud husband Stan into securing pills to help him and her with his erectile dysfunction. As they became re-aquainted with each other Marion stumbled onto the secret for mind blowing sex. 

After a few glasses of wine one night as they were waiting for the pills to take effect, Marion started to play around getting down on her knees putting Stan’s limp member up to her ear and saying, “Klondike 473 . . . is anybody there? Hello . . . hello . . . are you ever going to pick up, Klondike 473?”

Stan, who always had a temper, was furious and stormed out of the room leaving Marion to her own devices, again.

Though proud, angry and none too bright Stan didn’t know what to do with himself once the pills kicked in, so he went back to Marion and got after her like he was twenty years old again.

As she luxuriated in the spooning bliss afterwards, Marion had an epiphany. Given Stan’s neanderthal like brain and his tendency to blow things out of proportion she thought she might be able to tweak his dark side after taking a pill and hopefully it would get him to perform like he did that day. Or better yet, like a young Harrison Ford. Still, better, she thought like a young Darth Vader. She could hear the Vader theme song in her head and could feel his dark charisma as he approached. The music would fade and he would say: “Marion, I am here to sex you.”

It worked like a charm. Several minutes after taking a pill Marion carefully poked her husband:

“Stan, tomorrow morning I’m going to Earsing’s for more hanging baskets.”

“Goddammit, Marion, we’ve spent a fortune on hanging baskets already. There’s no room for anymore baskets. I’ll have to buy more hooks and build a goddamn addition on the house. NO MORE BASKETS.”

Marion was such an expert at pissing Stan off, she soon didn’t even need to have a complete thought:

“Stan, you know what we should do . . .”

“Stop right there Marion. When you say we, I know that means just ME. I WON’T HAVE IT. I CAN’T KEEP UP AS IT IS. NO MORE PROJECTS AND NO MORE OF THIS: YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO, BULLSHIT…”  

And just when she thought her sex life, which had been missing for so long, couldn’t get any better, a throwaway line in a moment of passion produced mind blowing results.

Stan was going through his new found routine when Marion, already overflowing with joy from his angry love, breathlessly said, “I want to die like this.” These words seemed to infuse Stan with a new urgency, an added commitment. He thrashed and thrashed at Marion until she was a puddle of exposed nerves. Afterwards, as the vibrations of her bliss slowly dripped away, she asked Stan, who was fully dressed by then, what had gotten into him, to which he responded, “Quite frankly Marion, I love you, but you really piss me off. And, when you said that bit about wanting “to die like this,” well, I tried to kill you . . . with my dick.”

Marion sometimes wonders if their new supercharged sex life is a bit much for Stan and his health. But then she reconsiders, thinking, in the end Stan’s anger will most likely do him in anyway, so why not get something out of it for myself.     

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