It’s high noon. A trickle of light from the sun has finally begun to seep through and even though we’ve been stalled in the middle of this intersection for what seems like an eternity, we no longer harbor a sense of being abandoned on the dark side of the moon. Yes, we’ve witnessed some incredibly dramatic events unfold as we sat immobilized at the pinnacle of D.C.’s Donner Pass. And true, we’re not for the moment any better off than we were when our car first stalled, but at least the ignition started this time when we turned the key. Moving through and out of this impasse, we can, for a short spell anyway, coast our way downhill into the nation’s capital.
When we arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, we stopped to read the legal notice conspicuously posted for public viewing on the front fence. It was a 60-day Notice to Vacate. Looks like X-P "W’s" second 4-year lease term on the White House is up, and he's been ordered out.
No sooner had “W” been formally served with his 60-day Notice, when the film crews began showing up at his door and they weren’t there for him. Seemed he was now out of the loop, and no one thought to tell him that the White House had just been selected the new winner of an “Extreme Makeover-Home Edition”. When Ty Pennington appeared unannounced with his pros to measure for new drapes and furnishings, and then the “Queer Eye” ensemble popped in to begin their work of designing the new occupant’s flair (china, crystal, silverware, color schemes and seating arrangements) - and all of this without cost to the taxpayers - it was simply too much for a man of his stature to bear.
George immediately got Condi on the phone and secretly arranged a protest rally to take place on the White House lawn. Some would accuse him of being too inebriated to remember much of the 1960’s, but he was sure they used to do something like that back then, didn’t they? Well, instead of picketing for change, the protesters he was calling to action on what was still his front yard would be picketing for things to remain the same. It had been a good ride, and he couldn’t just stand by and watch helplessly as his heady error (or was that era?) of the last 8 years abruptly ended.
When George’s protest rally finally began that warm late fall morning (really it was more like afternoon when tee-times were over), we could see in the rear view mirror that it was a far cry from what had happened back in the 60’s when the lines of rickety buses would pour into Washington D.C. from every corner of the country and unload at the White House gates an endless stream of pot smoking, flag burning hippies wearing tied-dye, flashing the peace sign and crying out for US withdrawal from Vietnam, equal rights, free love and above all, change.
Fall afternoon 2008, Pennsylvania Avenue instead saw a line-up of Rolls Royce limousines, with a few Mercedes and Lincolns thrown in for good measure, far more impressive than any formal White House affair he’d ever hosted during his 8-year reign. One by one, the limos unloaded its Moldy Old White Bread (MOWBs-see definition) sporting tailored Armani suits and Rolex watches, well-fed on the caviar and Dom Perignon that had been elegantly served to them as they reposed in the backseat and waited for an opportunity to emerge from their transports. Once the MOWBs were properly assembled, they began to clamor in unison for US extension in Iraq (the oil revenues were just too good to give up, oh duh), more bail out money to pay their executive bonuses, and above all, keeping the Old Guard.
When “W’s” rally is finally over, will the heads of the protesters continue spinning in drunken power, or will their heads be splitting in pain as they endure the inevitable champagne hangover?
When we arrived at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, we stopped to read the legal notice conspicuously posted for public viewing on the front fence. It was a 60-day Notice to Vacate. Looks like X-P "W’s" second 4-year lease term on the White House is up, and he's been ordered out.
No sooner had “W” been formally served with his 60-day Notice, when the film crews began showing up at his door and they weren’t there for him. Seemed he was now out of the loop, and no one thought to tell him that the White House had just been selected the new winner of an “Extreme Makeover-Home Edition”. When Ty Pennington appeared unannounced with his pros to measure for new drapes and furnishings, and then the “Queer Eye” ensemble popped in to begin their work of designing the new occupant’s flair (china, crystal, silverware, color schemes and seating arrangements) - and all of this without cost to the taxpayers - it was simply too much for a man of his stature to bear.
George immediately got Condi on the phone and secretly arranged a protest rally to take place on the White House lawn. Some would accuse him of being too inebriated to remember much of the 1960’s, but he was sure they used to do something like that back then, didn’t they? Well, instead of picketing for change, the protesters he was calling to action on what was still his front yard would be picketing for things to remain the same. It had been a good ride, and he couldn’t just stand by and watch helplessly as his heady error (or was that era?) of the last 8 years abruptly ended.
When George’s protest rally finally began that warm late fall morning (really it was more like afternoon when tee-times were over), we could see in the rear view mirror that it was a far cry from what had happened back in the 60’s when the lines of rickety buses would pour into Washington D.C. from every corner of the country and unload at the White House gates an endless stream of pot smoking, flag burning hippies wearing tied-dye, flashing the peace sign and crying out for US withdrawal from Vietnam, equal rights, free love and above all, change.
Fall afternoon 2008, Pennsylvania Avenue instead saw a line-up of Rolls Royce limousines, with a few Mercedes and Lincolns thrown in for good measure, far more impressive than any formal White House affair he’d ever hosted during his 8-year reign. One by one, the limos unloaded its Moldy Old White Bread (MOWBs-see definition) sporting tailored Armani suits and Rolex watches, well-fed on the caviar and Dom Perignon that had been elegantly served to them as they reposed in the backseat and waited for an opportunity to emerge from their transports. Once the MOWBs were properly assembled, they began to clamor in unison for US extension in Iraq (the oil revenues were just too good to give up, oh duh), more bail out money to pay their executive bonuses, and above all, keeping the Old Guard.
When “W’s” rally is finally over, will the heads of the protesters continue spinning in drunken power, or will their heads be splitting in pain as they endure the inevitable champagne hangover?
For more on "W's" Retirement, see our ‘Dream Sequence’ November 1, 2008 posting "Will The Lame Duck Be Flying South For the Winter?"
Queer Eye? Don't ask, don't tell.
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