(noon. – promoted by ek hornbeck)
Oh man I just had the most horrible dream! You see I went to this diary, wherein I was told, join, join, join them, and you can change it. Learn the joys of coffee… then I went to this facebook page…..
Then I found myself somehow whisked to this town. It was a strange town where people wore these strange clothes, like it was the 1800’s, but underneath the 19th century duds and bow ties and hats they all had on instead of a button downed white shirt and blouse, an Obama T-Shirt.
No sooner had I appeared, than a man with a vacant grin approached me.
"Civility and reason to you, friend!", said he.
“Uh, civility and reason to you!” I replied, my eyes widening at this odd greeting.
“Coffee hour approaches,” the man went on, as if in the same vein. “What will you have? Mocha? Latte? Frappucino? Maybe a triple espresso cappucino?”
Well, I was getting a bit wigged out at the cognitive dissonance, you understand. Little alarm bells were going off in my head, but I couldn’t place it. “Uh, maybe some decaf?” I evaded, hoping to buy time.
"Isn’t Obama the best president evah?" The man prompted me.
“Uh, yeah, he’s great,” I answered, trying not to sweat too much. The man nodded and walked on, seeingly forgetting he had offered me coffee. “Coffee hour approaches,” the man mumbled, apparently to himself. “It is the will of Obama.”
“Hey!” I shouted at the man. He turned. “Aren’t you supposed to be a grass roots organization?”
“Yes,” the man smiled. “Civility and reason, and accountability, and equal justice for all. All together in the grassroots. Obama knows all, he sees all. You will see. Are you not of the body“? Suddenly the man’s expression changed. From vacant and pleasant to suspicious and demanding.
“Yeah, I’m of the body, dude. Whatever you say!” I smiled back weakly, then ran.
Anyway, I hid out between two buildings. At this point I was seriously freaked. And then I noticed on every corner there was an open air Starbucks, and all the people of the town were lining up at them, getting free coffee, except they were little ceramic cups and not Starbucks cardboard. And no one ordered decaf.
And they were all getting increasingly agitated. I sweated as I hid out, thinking, “What the fuck, is there METH in this Coffee?”
“Civility! Reason! Teabagger!” Soon the square was filled with shouts. A woman turned to me and said “Equal justice under the law!” And threw her cup at me. It shattered over my head.
I had to get out of there. I ducked into this shop to get away from the increasing carnage, my feet crunching on broken crockery.
So there were these two old men in the shop. One of them, not the least bit vacant, came up to me and said, “What are you doing here? It’s coffee hour!”
“What is this coffee hour?” I demanded, panting. “Can’t you see, people are throwing dishes at each other out there!”
The other man, with a more kindly aspect, patted my shoulder. “It is the will of Obama,” he sighed. “I will get you some decaf, and after Coffee Hour is over, you can stay here to sleep it off.”
“Decaf?!” the other man raged. Looking at me, he said “Are you not of the body?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I mumbled, no doubt looking desperate. “I just sort of want to keep on an even keel, you know.”
“Relax, Plouffe,” the kindly man said. “He’s from Denver. Their ways are different there.”
“Whatever,” Plouffe screamed. “You know, he could be a radical socialist Archon, sent here to change our ways. It is not the will of Obama!”
I suddenly decided to get clever. “Obama,” I sighed, adopting a cerubic smile. “He knows, he sees, he gathers all under his grassrootsy umbrella of civility and reason and goodwill.”
“I know your type,” Plouffe sneered. “We will see what the lawmakers have to say about this!” and stormed out.
Anyway, then I woke up. Man, caffeine. It can be nasty stuff when you overdo it!