This one seems right for the day. It's an oldie.
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I was on my way to the local dance hall on the south side of town when I first noticed a car behind me in both my side and rear view mirrors. At first, I just passed it off to some young drunks driving too close. Then the lights got closer and closer. I could imagine how their car lights were probably illuminating my eyes as they reflected from the rear view mirror onto my face, making me look like a scene out of some nuclear melt down movie.
Now, I'm not exactly high strung, but then I'm not exactly Mr. Mellow from the Lithium mines either.
After a few blocks of this tailing crap, I was beginning to get a little off my game. Then, the lights started blinking from high beam to low beam and the driver started honking the horn. Finally, I figured it out.
The people in this car must be my friends.
So, I pulled to the side of the road, about a block from the historic two stepping Dance Hall.
A large black Lincoln pulled along side of me. It was one of those signature series, like the five star hotels use, so I figured it was one of my pals in from out of town. The driver gets out of the mini limo and walks to my side of the car. He was familiar. Indeed, he was one of the driveway guys from the Hotel I always go to each day to work out.
"Mr Oz", he says. "We have a guest that wants to visit with you."
I practically live at this Hotel, so I am like totally comfortable by now.
"Who is it?"
"He says you know him."
Truth is, I know a lot of movie stars. I know a lot of famous musicians. I know a lot of famous politicans, so I really don't know who this might be. I guess I was hoping it was... naw, she would never hunt me down like this.
Since I'm in a pretty safe place, I put the car in park, grab my bag, and jump out of the car and in to the back seat, thinking that this is going to be fun.
The doors lock.
The person in the back turns to me.
I think it might be Zimmerman, but this guy is too tall,
but the scruffy beard is the same.
He takes off his dark glasses.
Yeah, you got it.
Holy f#*king freaking Jesus, I think to myself. (or allah or whatever)
You talk to the President right?"
"Yeah, but he never listens."
"But you have dinner with him, right?"
"Yeah, but really, he doesn't listen."
"I want you to tell him something for me."
"I don't know if I will ever see him again."
"Once they know you have been with me, you will see him again,
As sure as there is only one god, you can count on that."
I figured he was probably right about that. (not the god thing)
"I want you to tell him that I'm not a terrorist."
"Tell him that I don't hate freedom.
That is really a stupid thing, I can't believe you Americans fall for that."
"Tell him that I just want the infidels out of the Holy Land.
Imagine, if my country had troops in Jerry Fallwell's Virginia,
he would see why it is so, well, it's just over the top.
We don't make you wear our napkins on your heads.
So don't make us wear those textile nooses around our neck.
Tell him, that I think that Americans are great.
S#it! They made my family rich, for Allah's sake.
Tell him to use American Ingenuity to get off oil."
"I did that already."
"Tell him to take the obscene American military budget
and plow it into peaceful positive things like feeding the poor."
"I did that."
"Tell him to show the Islamic world that Christians can
practice what they preach.
You know, turn the other cheek,
love your enemy,
do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
All that stuff."
"I don't think they know how to do that."
"Tell him that if he doesn't do it,
I'm going to....."
"You're going to what?
"I'm going to run for President."
"You can do that?"
"I can do that."
"Can you win?"
"I can't lose.
Tell him that democracy works just fine for me."
I got back into my car and went on into the Dance Hall.
Janelle was dancing already.
I wondered if maybe my cats would believe a word of this.
But you can believe this:
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