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So here it is:
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Live blogging for Lieberman or how Bill Kristol saved my life
It's 6 AM. I'm in Joe Lieberman's "Command Bunker" somewhere in Connecticut, and I'm bleeding, badly.
* * *
I arrived early this morning at a little after 1 AM. The entrance was located in an unlighted vacant lot, overgrown with weeds and stinking of garbage. The volunteer had warned me about this, but assured me that looks were deceiving. The weeds, garbage, and to a certain extent, the location itself, served as camouflage, hiding the bunker's location from Democrats and, more importantly, bloggers.
I'll admit that I was more than a little jumpy as I made my way through this gauntlet of jimsonweed and Huggies, but as I grew closer and began to make out the outline of the bunker's entrance, I heard music, faintly at first, but growing louder with each footstep until I finally recognized it as ABBA's Waterloo. I relaxed then and even broke out in a smile a few step later when I saw Bill Kristol--yes that Bill Kristol, Irving and Gertrude's boy--standing in the entrance way.
My smile didn't linger. As soon as Kristol spotted me, he began angrily shouting questions at me, strange questions like "What did you eat for breakfast," and "What did you do last Saturday?". My answers seem to satisfy him because he switched to rummaging through my bags, mumbling something about ham sandwiches. Finally, he spied my laptop and asked the question I'd been dreading, "Are you a blogger?" Remembering the volunteer's warning, I lied, "No, I'm a day trader." That seemed to make him happy. He smiled, cackled, slapped me on the back, and led me into the bunker.
* * *
Tell me you don't want to read the rest. I dare you.
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