So W is going to be in NOLA on Thursday morning. Hmmm....let's look at the calendar. Can't get an appointment with Aidan Gill until the following Thursday, so I guess I'll go with that Dilbert's Boss look I've been cultivating. Actually with the beard, i look more like a balding Castro. Actually, since the hair is curly, I look more like an Hassidic Jew.
Well, what else. Hmmm...could watch the eternal Dragon Tales marathon that is PBS Sprout. No, that would just make me go postal.
I guess I'm going to have to go there. Hear the ordained one speak. Carry a placard that says, oh, something appropriate. Maybe that will work. Maybe I'll end up getting carted off by secret service men.
I had an episode with secret service men once before. During the Reagan years, Ronnie showed up at a beach on the Mississippi Gulf Coast to give a speech. I was in the USM marching band, and we had to play. Why, I don't know, but we were told it was an honor.
An honor to get in our monkey suits, go through metal detectors and secret service screening, and sit in the hot sun for 8 hours without access to cold drinks. Honored, indeed.
So as I, Knife, go through the metal detectors, the things start wailing like Cyril Neville at a Bring Back New Orleans rally. Guess what: I played drums, and the metal carrier was under the uniform. These guys were insane, reaching inside their coats and pushing the lapels to their mouth to ask for a SWAT team to rappel to the beach.
One of them started getting smart with me, and I guess I didn't nod appropriately. So I remember his quote to me: "Write your own ticket". I instantly replied: "Mezzanine, 3rd row, near the aisle".
At that point, I guess he figured a jackass with a xylophone probably wasn't going to be a thread to National Security, just a jackass.
My, how I've changed...
So I'm pretty sure that if I show up to see Shrub with a placard, I may be whisked off to Gitmo. Maybe I could just carry a big one that said in big letters FYYFF.
You think he'd get it?