Back in the late nineties I had a short stint working for the US Department of Labor. I was based in the most excellent National (US) Postal Museum (a Smithsonian!), adjacent to DC’s mighty fine Union Station (google: Diocletian Baths) , but I (of course) digress.
My lunchtime ritual was to eat in Union Station’s wicked awesome dining hall. Cheesesteaks. Sushi. Pizza, on occasion. but most of the time it was a Burrito Brothers Burrito- not the best burrito i’ve ever had (it tastes a bit different from a burrito) but remains one of the best meals I’ve ever had. I think it would be my request for a last meal, with a pint of Guinness.
Anyway, one afternoon as I was cautiously crossing 1st Street, Northeast in the crosswalka speeding Ford Crown Victoria came barreling down at me. I mean, flying down the street. Who was the maniac behind the wheel of this tan, blahtomotbile? Fred Thompson. US Senator and candidate for president. Bad driver. Bad actor. And he looks like a jerk.
That’s my Fred Thompson story. Don’t vote for him. Vote for Dal LaMagna. It doesn’t matter- George II will cheat again and get re-elected.
