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Boo's campaign with 'the guy in the chair'
By Deborah Taylor-Hollis
I knew there was trouble when I pulled onto my street New Year's Day and saw the scene. Not only were police surrounding the house, but also vans from the ATF, FBI and Secret Service were all on hand, agents decked out in riot gear. I immediately knew who they were looking for--there are only so many people in the world who can generate that kind of law enforcement response--and drove off to the local Denny's to wait out the stakeout.
No sooner had I slid into the back booth, pulled my cap down over my eyes and opened the newspaper to shield me from strangers, when a familiar voice asked me if I wanted hot coffee. I looked up to see my old pal Boo, wearing a cheap disguise. Quickly stripping off the nametag he slid in next to me.
"I knew you'd read the message I pruned into your bushes and get here just as soon as you could," he told me while we waited for the real waitress. Normally, I do not read anything in my shrubbery, but having an international vagabond like Boo for an acquaintance precludes taking anything for granted, including having your landscaping memo-free.
"Why, may I ask, are most of the defenders of the free world circling my front porch, apparently looking for you?"
Boo grinned and took out a letter from his pocket. "This is my copy. I sent the original to the Texas governor's mansion and The Washington Post last week. I announced my right, as a disgruntled citizen, to refuse to call the shrub 'Mr. President.' Apparently, I ruffled some feathers," he chuckled, adding 12 packets of pure sugar to the third cup of steaming coffee he'd downed in the six minutes we'd been talking.
"So I have the Armageddon force waking my neighbors because you have no manners? This is absurd! And since when do you bother to give formal notice of your peccadilloes to either Texas or the press?"
"Since I started the movement. Right after I snuck back into the country last year, I noticed that, over the last eight years, our president has not been regularly called 'President Clinton' or 'Mr. President' by Republicans quoted in the press. They usually call him 'Bill Clinton' or 'THE President,' usually with just a slight change of nasal whine tone when they do. I spent hundreds of hours going over all the network tapes, watching party spokespeople, congressional leaders, retired lawmakers and high officials in state government that were Republicans."
I had to interrupt him when the baked halibut arrived, but Boo didn't miss a moment, once he was sure the waitress had moved out of hearing range. "I went through Trent Lott's garbage last year, and I found the proof I was looking for in my theory. There are literally thousands of memos floating around reminding party members that, not only do they have to use the derogatory term when speaking to the press, but also that any member found acting reasonably about bipartisan relationships will lose all their campaign funding from the party, as well as their junket privileges."
By now I was on my third cup of coffee, and seriously wondering if Boo needed some simple bipolar medication, or radical keratotomy of the smart muscle.
"Just what planet are you on?" I had to ask, scanning the open windows for any police vehicles coming in for breakfast, now that the sun was up. "No one has any conspiracy about dissing Bill for the last eight years. That kind of disrespect just comes naturally to some people. But it doesn't make it right, or patriotic. I was raised that the president--no matter how vain, preppie, whiny, or self-absorbed, is still the leader of the our country and we use respectful terms."
I lectured quietly, trying to remember if I needed to go home at all until the weekend. It would be simpler to just hit the beach in Oahu.
"This is for real--and I am not going to show any respect for a man who believes he deserved the job 'cause his daddy had it, like it's some kinda legacy thing," Boo growled, dropping something into his water and stirring it in well before drinking the whole thing.
"I'll think about using the official title the day the Republicans do show some courtesy, or they find George W's humility. Until then, I'm leading the movement to disavow the election. He's just Bush, the guy in the chair," Boo hissed, grabbed his dark glasses and slid out of the booth.
"Wait, one more thing: Why are the cops looking for you at MY house?" I asked as he pushed open the emergency exit and slid out into the night.
"I used your return address for the membership drive. The first 20,000 were promised free cigar cases."
Track down Deborah Taylor-Hollis at dthollis@metronews.com.
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Willow Glen, California Since 1992
