Did you ever have the experience of meeting someone for the first time,
only it seemed like
you knew them all of your life? Well, that was my experience last Wednesday, when Tally Briggs,
from Los Angeles, and Isaac Peterson, from the Twin Cities, came out to join me for the
Bugliosi-fest scheduled for the following night.
The two arrived at the San Francisco airport in the early afternoon,
and settled soon enough
in their hotels to make the drive down to Palo Alto, where I work, to join me for dinner.
When they arrived, Tally called me from her cell phone, to let me know they were here at last.
I finished my work in a blazing minute, hopped the elevator to the parking lot in order to stash my briefcase,
et al, in the trunk of my car and emerged from the driveway to find familiar strangers waiting for me on
the sidewalk. Tally, not so short as she thinks she is, gave me a big hug (it was enough to make the month
worthwhile), and Isaac and I exchanged one as well. Tally is a very attractive redhead (easy to see why
Ben Stein would make her a proposition), and Isaac--a tall, good looking, African American with
penetrating eyes (at least when he's not wearing his Fearless Fly sunglasses).
After some exchange of pleasantries, we had a little gripe session about
the trouble-maker in
the White House, and then discussed the more important issues about how bad the maid service
has become at Bartcop Manor. (By the way, BC, Tally tells me that she is regularly offered
the Stalin Room these days. Whenever I come, I'm always shuffled off into the Gorky Room,
downstairs, that doesn't even have a private Jacuzzi. What's the deal?) Then it was off to a bar
for vodka shots, and to discuss ways to take guns away from freedom loving, compassionate
conservatives. After all, it's a little nerve wracking hiding underneath their beds, and in their closets,
when they are still allowed to keep a .38 under their pillow. Damn! Ya know, we almost had it done
until they got rid of that Communist inspired free speech. We can't even get into public schools these
days to suck the blood of their children since they've started hang crucifixes over the doors.
We won't even be able to recruit the poor anymore, now that they'll be getting religious instruction
before receiving financial aid.
Oh, well--such are the trials and tribulations of being a DNC funded agitator.
After several shots, I treated both Tally and Isaac to dinner at Spago's,
as I had just gotten my
welfare check that very day. A good time was had by all. We had another bottle of wine, each,
and got in our cars to head for home. The idea, of course, was to aim for Freepers (those awful
guardians of freedom) on the way, knowing that being three sheets to the wind might serve as a
good technicality for some tricky defense lawyer to get us off, should someone attempt to prosecute.
But, alas, no Freepers in sight. I guess they just go to bed too early.
Taking the next day off work (Hell, it seems like I take a lot of time
off since the Communist
Workers Party was able to engineer that 40 hour work week.), I rolled out of bed, and pointed
my Rolls toward San Francisco, to meet T & I for a day of fun at Fisherman's Wharf. We watched
a hundred lazy seals lie on the docks in the harbor, their heads turned up, begging people to toss
them handouts. That made us feel good. Ah, if only all of America was like that.
At the end of the day, we piled into my Rolls, and made our way across
the Bay Bridge to Oakland
to go see Vincent Bugliosi speak. We, the Party, have been re-programing (brainwashing) Vincent
since he put our Comrade Charles Manson behind bars, and now he is a glorious sight to behold.
We were expecting him for dinner, but he got into town too late, having had a programming glitch
that need to be addressed. He needed to be at his best because we needed him to convince the
audience to overthrow the government by impeaching the five patriotic members of the US Supreme
Court who managed to save America from our fearless leader, Al Goresky--eh--I mean Gore.
I can't begin to tell you how he disappointed us in his speech.
He yammered on and on about the
Constitution. Afterwards, we had to sit him down and remind him that the only clause in the
Constitution that means anything of importance is the 2nd Amendment, and the Supreme Court
didn't even address that in Bush v. Goresky--eh--I mean Gore.
"Maybe that's it!" he exclaimed. "I should tell people that any
analysis of the right to have your vote
counted should include something about, 'at the point of a gun,' and the court didn't include that!"
"Now your learnin'!" we patted him on the head gently.
"Now get out there for the flag burnin', Big Guy." And he trotted off again to join the rioters.
I'll tell ya, BC, it warmed our hearts. But things have gotten
so difficult now that that diabolical genius,
George W. Bush, is Commander In Chief. Pretty soon, he is going to have our whole, precious,
Communist inspired Constitution whittled down to just, "You have the right to pack a bible, a crucifix,
and a heater." When that day comes, America will be free at last, free at last--and then, God Almight,
where will we be?