So…it’s been awhile. Understatement? Understatement. Chalk it up to the Bureaucrat being put on the back burner. To make it up to you, here is part 1 in what could become a series of stories about a completely made up bureaucrat living the DC young professional life.
If there’s interest, parts 2 through 20 will be forthcoming. If not, we can always blame it on some other agency.
Off the Back Burner, part 1
“America,” yells the man with the bullhorn, “you are the greatest nation in the history of the universe. But for how long, America?”
The Secret Service officers posted on Pennsylvania Avenue pay him no heed. In theory this nut stands less than a thousand yards from the President. In reality he is further from the Oval Office than a third party candidate who never goes to church.
“Wake up, America. You are asleep, America,” he proclaims, pacing frenetically in front of Lafayette Square.
The leader of a group of Chinese tourists cuts a wide swath around the man so her flock might better hear the informative shouting she is doing over her own amplified device. Follow her they do, because they have only been allotted ten minutes for their requisite photo opportunity in front of the White House, but not before taking a few snapshots of the crazy American to show their friends back home.
Competing for their attention is another man, this one clad in an American flag track suit. On the ground beside him is a portable amplifier connected to a microphone. “God is watching down on you,” he croons karaoke style. “Jesus is your light. Let him shine, let him shine, into your heart.”
As he sings he rides a wooden stick on which is mounted a cloth horse’s head. He gallops a few feet over – just as far as the tether of the electric cable will allow – to pose for a picture. Mid-chorus he holds the microphone out to the woman giving the peace sign in front of him while her husband frames the shot. She freezes, and for a few measures it’s nothing but background music and a mop horse caught mid-stride.
“Hello?” she finally whispers into the mic, then scurries back to the safety of the group.
“Hallelujah! Praise the lord!” says the man in the track suit. He rides back to his amplifier and launches into the next verse. Continue reading