The Inauguration Of George W. Bush (Part II) Requiem

It's 8AM Jan 20th, and I got drunk the night before, and got on the metro with a shaky sense of unreal. Here we go, nobody's going to stop this, dammit, but maybe they still will. The days leading up to the inaugural created the same feeling you get when you watch a historical documentary of a World Series where your team lost. Maybe Torre will play the infield back this time, maybe Lonnie Smith will hold at third this time. Maybe someone in Ohio will find 140,000 uncounted Kerry votes in a Cleveland bus station, or in a Toledo whorehouse, and Renquist will say "Not So Fast, Buster". But I had my ticket, and was ready to rock either way.

Stopped for breakfast before heading to work, there was much work to be done. Great breakfast, excellent crowd, seemed to favor the left and the mimosas. But there was work to be done. So I went to work.

Upon completing the work, I returned to the place of breakfast, and resumed the consumption of mango mimosas. Yeah, that's right, I said mango. Mango because I am a 38 year old man with a hangover, and I will not be a prisoner of the heartburn wrought by the satanic oranges produced by the President's brother. If ever there was an over-rated fruit, it's the fucking orange. There's no way to eat it elegantly. Pulp and sticky are everywhere, it's as acidic as a car battery. Someone in Florida had a friend at the FDA when they rated oranges healthy. Cats have short digestive tracks, and they eat complex meat compounds, so cat shit is actually high in protein. I'm convinced that if the guys behind the "orange is health food" campaign had nothing but barren fields of kitty litter to mine, we'd be eating cat shit pancakes for protein every morning. But the evil of oranges isn't the point of this story.

I had 2 tickets, so I grabbed an interesting stranger who seemed to be alone and asked whether he'd like to watch the event. There was a giant crush of people without tickets, just trying to move along. The secret service was securing the area ahead of the area that had to be secured, so we got screwed. We had tickets, but we had to wait with the commonfolk to pass through security so we could pass through additional security to use our tickets. By the time we negotiated the first wave of security, Bush had laid down his gauntlet against the world, so we headed for protest central with extra vinegar in our piss.

There is no way I can do justice to the pains the DC Metropolitan Police Department, and the US Capitol Police took to ensure the protesters had a prime spot. If you read or believe that protesters got shafted, that's bullshit. There was a stage 40 feet from the parade route where speaker after speaker came up and railed against the evils of this administration. There was about an acre of standing room to observe the stage. There also was a gigantic bleacher seat structure which was filled with old people who were obviously expecting to die within the next four years, and their signs all implied that America's vote had fucked them out of eternal peace. That was a little creepy.

Even more creepy was sitting in a bar, watching soundless news coverage, and seeing myself on the TV. Holy shit, that's me. That seems like 10 minutes ago, but it was hours ago. Let's get away from the TV and go to a quieter venue. We'll talk of mores, and rules, and exceptions. And when it's time for the cab, we'll forget what we did with our keys. And we'll forget almost everything else.

Despite the forgetfulness, it was one of the finest days I have ever had.

Go figure.