Good afternoon. On the, pre-causus-belli, 3:55PM out of the City. What a group.
I am sitting by myself in the jump seat. Harvey Keitel looked over and espied the open seat across from me, but decided instead to sit next to the Phillipino version of Regis Philbin. Our iteration of HK is taller than the acclaimed actor. He is married, owns a big-faced silver watch (analog), and is still using the Canadian iteration of the iCrackerBot. There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose. He’s kept his hair military-style short.
I mentioned this morning that I’ve been noticing patterns today. One of those examples from this morning – an attractive blonde, late thirties – Hillary FLOTUS 1st term doo – is sitting up top. She has a fabulous figure and shows it off with the one piece orange dress, mid thigh, with pumps to match the white rings that constitute the stripes for the dress. Each ring is spaced exactly, at about three inches, I’d say. She has the Stepford Wife look about her. I saw another woman this morning, different hairdo, same hair color, but navy blue instead of melon-orange for the wide stripes of the dress. Wild.
Sitting behind Clive Owen is a fellow that reminds me of a child actor or Olympic Athlete gone to seed. This linebacker looking fellow has a California Tan and a goatee matching his blonde hair. He is constantly playing with his thinning Sampsonian coif as he reads electronic mails from the heretofore unnecessary glasses he has now had to wear. Athos or Porthos, but not Aramais.
Benched War Correspondent is asleep. He is storing up energy for the upcoming infield reporting he is bound to do over the latest bad-tequila-hangover in the Middle East. He has one ear to an earned and getting the latest from AP, UPI and ASR. He must know more than the bloviating punditry is pushing out. Ah…we’ll wait for POTUS to speak tonight. We’ll see.
Also here are a blind redheaded supermodel who just purchased her first 9mm in Iowa, Zapata, Quintin Tarrantino, Clive Owen and Sheri O’Teri. All are armed.