July 14, 2004


George W. Bush is in town, and has tentative plans to drive past my house. Police won't say which route he is going to take, but my street is on the list. As such, we are no longer allowed to park. I may or may not be at work when he comes, which may or may not be a bad thing.

My dad is really excited, and is out buying film. I don't know what crazy-ass stunt I should pull, but I'm thinking. It has to be really annoying, yet nothing to make the Secret Service throw a fit. I'll take ideas, but I have no idea whether or not I will implement them.

ADDENDUM: I was at work when Dubya drove past my house. Fortunately, he also drove past my place of employment. Sorry Kevin, I couldn't find a kielbasa, but I did act lewdly with a cucumber. No pics, though. Maybe next time, if I make a trip over to Washington. Unfortunately, Dubya was going about 45 miles an hour (in a 25 mph zone, the fucker) and was in a bus, and I was inside, beyond a giant parking lot. However, I'd like to think he developed an urge to grab his personal secretary and "herd some sheep" as he past.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.