Good afternoon. On the early out 2:30PM out of the City. Stormchasing.
Being a dutiful corporate officer, I paid all the bills, talked with clients and had a very late lunch. I left early to beat the impending mess that many just north west of the Metro area have already experienced.
A lot of very well known people have decided to take this same plan of escape. Wolf Blitzer is chatting cordially to a an ex-Apollo or ex-Gemini astronaut. The astronaut in question is wearing a leather bomber jacket with a large logo of a popular Kentucky bourbon whisky distillers logo on it. I guess if you’ve orbited the planet, you can promote whatever booze you please. I wonder if NASA developed shot-in-a-bag, Capri Sun style?
Three blue-collar men are sitting together in the other jump seat. The topic of conversation is high school football. It seems the regional contests for the Catholic league are happening now, and one fellow Dave is wondering if the other two fellas, Bob and Rick, say his (Dave’s) son make that winning TD against the favorited team, with their sonofabitch coach. Bob, who’s son is on the same team, said he didn’t attend because he was taking on extra shifts for a bit of extra coin before the holidays. The third fella, Rick is the least talkative of the three, allowing the other two to regale about recent highlights and the prospects for their respective boys for College tryouts. The fatherly pride is like a physical force field that can be detected around these two men.
Gordon Gekko is here, or a similar construct. Ginger hair trimmed back, military style. Light blue shirt, blue-red power tie, pressed slacks, our cunning corporate raider is feet forward and hunched over, elbows on knees supporting his two hands that, like a precious idol or talisman, wrapped and frantically working his iCrackerDroid. It is this magical device that will establish if he gets coal in his stocking, or be able to pay the last of these years’ alimony+child support and still be able to buy that new Beemer for himself for Christmas. He leans his forehead on his left hand as he deftly manipulates escoteric data, like runes, to fortell the movements of markets.
Honorable mentions must go to Gerald Ford, 38th President of the U.S., a stunning plus-sized model, Porthos of Muskateer fame, a beautiful Latina woman who is coming back from university, and Bert Convey.
Midwesterners – it’s gonna be a White Christmas. Stock up on sugarplums, victuals, firewood and spirits.