I would normally rule the world from the comfort of my Westin-Grand-Bohemian-meets-the-Clampetts Vermont home, but the internet at the house is out.
So I came into downtown Bellows Falls to have some coffee and a bagel with lox and hazelnut cream cheese (no capers, thanks, or whatever those things are) ...a treat for my normally reclusive self to be enjoyed at a cool little cafe. In the architecture of the building, in the rain-slick narrow street it lines, in the disinterested friendliness of the staff, the place seems right out of the East Village.
I brought my notebook computer in a backpack. I found an empty booth in a Feng...shui...ish-ly comfortable spot and unpacked my computer. At the next booth sat a young husband and wife with their son, probably around three years old. The boy watched me walk up, sit down, and turn on the computer. He asked, in the innocent way that only a young child can, "Are you going to destroy the world?" His parents smiled and laughed with me --though, I'm guessing, for completely different reasons. "No, son," I thought, "Let's hope I know what I'm doing."
From the mouths of babes comes the very word of God...
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I find it funny that the White House (or, more precisely, the interests that employ George Bush as their plaything) calls journalists "unpatriotic" for revealing uncomfortable truths.
When your standard, tobacco-chewing, thirty-thirty-carrying, good ole boys finally figure out that you are not...of them...watch out. You are about the least patriotic thing one could conceive of.
So I agree with you: Traitors deserve the full fury of a hoodwinked nation... No one likes to be tricked, you big silly...
And if you, dear reader, have been flirting with treason rather than having committed to it, you had better get right, whistle a happy tune, and sidle away from the you-know-whos.
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That Bush itinerary that wound up in the trash? Conveniently found by a bum or somebody... a bum who found time to be so concerned about the welfare of a man of the people...that he turned it in. Yeah.
I haven't followed the issue, because I really don't care. I seem to have half-heard or seen a story to this effect. So I'm not sure of the details.
But if it turns out that my half-heard appreciation of the story is true, then I'm guessing this printed itinerary was a plant. Probably designed to give plausible reason for replacing the Secret Service presidential security detail with some military guys. George Bush is afraid his own Praetorian Guard is going to knife him.
Some call George Bush paranoid. Well, maybe. But as WKRP in Cincinatti's Johnny Fever once sagely explained, "When they _are_ out to get you, paranoia is just good thinking."
So I retract everything I said before about George Bush being stupid. He's actually a genius. ...Because they _are_ out to get him...and that whole bunch...
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When I came into the cafe an hour ago, I stopped at the table of a man I know casually and professionally...through the job I held at the computer store. I showed my respect for his privacy by limiting my conversation to a brief moment. He seemed...OK...that the conversation was short.
When he left, I noticed that he made no effort to say goodbye. That's OK. To him, I'm a crazy. But to you --and for the boy I earlier met-- I'm saving the world.
But we'll keep that our little secret...
