VME Poker Run

Somewhere on a Vashon highway
She rides a Royal Enfield
Her long hair flyin' in the wind
She's been running half her life
The chrome and steel she rides
Collidin' with the very air she breathes
The air she breathes

-Neil Young

Rude Awakening

Sunday morning, 5-something a.m.

The Cartel boss calls me on my cell phone, waking me before sunrise. He says in a booming voice, "Boy, ya betta get those fucking trucks outa Florida and back to New Orleans." His message is brief and I am rattled.

Hamsini is sleeping soundly by my side. I stumble into the kitchen naked. The house is cold. I turn on the computer and make some tea. I check Ike's track. The bastard Ike is ducking below Florida's foreskin. Ike is going into the Gulf. Nobody knows where Ike is going to hit land. Some are betting on Corpus Christi. The fundamentalists say Ike is going back to New Orleans to finish off the sinners.

I call Christopher in Boston. It is nearly 9 o'clock on the East Coast and he was sleeping, too. He is pissed. He hates guys like me giving him the third degree.

"Where are the trucks?" I ask.
"We finished unloading last night. The crackers are in a warehouse out by Homestead."
"Well, call the Teamsters again and get those snack foods loaded. We need that convey moving towards Baton Rouge."

Palin's Slice of Epiphany

Today I spent the morning playing doctor with the Doctor. You remember her? The good urologist.

After sex, we discussed politics. And ate waffles in bed.

Hamsini asked, did the Republicans resurrect the ancient rite of the Crown Cake to select Bush and now McCain's running mate?

You know, when things got really terrible the Christians baked a cake with a gold coin hidden inside. Whoever got the lucky slice was crowned king for a year (or 8 years in the case of King George W). The half-wit king could do whatever he wanted and nobody protested. The king behaved poorly, of course, as do most who inherit such immense power so suddenly.

The king mobilized the army and attacked other kingdoms just for the hell of it. The king had his way with the ladies (and the livestock, too). He feasted like a glutton and drank all the village wine. But in the old days, after a year of such nonsense, the villagers stoned the king and this made the crops grow tall and all was good again.

McCain and his fundamentalist handlers invited 13 potential vice presidents out to a hangar in Dayton. Everyone was served a big slice of epiphany. Lieberman was there. So was Tom Ridge, Tim Pawlenty, and Carly Fiorina. Guess who cracked a canine on the coin? The pitpull wearing lipstick...

I love Hamsini.

Today's buck went towards a three-pack of Japanese condoms.