That's right, last night the President the First Lady of the United States were mere blocks from my home. Apparently they were having dinner at Karl Rove's house, totally unaware that I was lurking in the dark just beyond the limos, the 30 unmarked black Suburbans, the uniformed secret service cars, the press vans and the ambulance.
And by lurking I of course mean driving past and rubbernecking as I tried to figure out what the fuck was going on. If I had known at the time that the Maximum Leader were inside, I might have stopped to yell my latest treatise on foreign policy at the windows of the Roves' very ugly home. I hear he likes it when you question his decisions.
