On behalf of AMG, I apologize this wasn’t written in a timely manner. But it took a team of six CIA translators to decode my notes taken from this event. All is written to the best of my ability. Scouts honor…
As of high noon, January 20th, George W. Bush is unemployed. It’s both ironic and sad on different levels. And after eight years of stumbling and fumbling on
So, stumbling and fumbling on
Cheers.
10:50 a.m. Riding around outside Manuel’s Tavern and I can’t find a parking place. Up and down side streets, wrong way on one ways, this place is more packed than George and Laura’s shit at 1600. I decide to throw it in behind the laundromat at Buddy’s. Fuck it. Surely they won’t tow me. Buddies don’t do that to one another, right?
10:55 a.m. My friend Kool Keith rang me while I was preparing for the day’s events (i.e. sleeping) and told me Manny’s was a mad house. He wasn’t kidding. I can barely get in through the front entrance. I slide my way down the bar (being small has its advantages) and find Armando from MJQ. I try to post up and get the bartenders attention for my first pint of hooch, but this isn’t going to be easy (being small has it disadvantages).
11:00 a.m. Right on time, Armando’s girlfriend nabs me my first High Life of the day. “Ahh, Miller Gold, breakfast of champions,” I say. Well … degenerate champions … of irresponsibility.
11:08 a.m. Watching CNN from two tiny TVs up in the corner of each end of the bar, I get reminded that Manuel’s puts the “reals” in “no frills”. I’m just glad we don’t have to adjust the rabbit ears on those relics.
The former President’s make their way out. George H. hobbles out with his grandmother, I mean, his wife, and its dead silent in the bar area. It’s so odd for 200 people crunched this close together to be this quiet. After a few moments, other people notice the awkwardness of the moment and laugh.
Clinton
walks out, looking daper in his yellow scarf and tie, and a cheer within Manuel’s lightens everything. We almost forget that we’re here to have fun. Bill reminds us.
11:18 a.m. Cheney’s and all his rottenness rolls out in a wheelchair. Boos are followed by laughter. It’s hard not to enjoy the karma of the biggest scoundrel of them all, freezing his nuts off in wheelchair. Poetry on two wheels, kids.
` W comes out smiling and waving to jeers like the part the bad guy wrestler plays. All he needs is a diabolical goatee. But it’s not a bad as I thought it would be here. We all moan and groan, but it’s like this guy’s already irrelevant to us. We survived – barely. It’s almost like we feel sorry for the guy. Or maybe we’re just glad it’s over.
11:20 a.m. Kool Keith finds me. He’s half through his first Bloody Mary. I’m assured it’s a more balanced and nutritious breakfast than the barely and hops in my hand.
11:23 a.m. Obama makes his first appearance. I think to myself, “This really is happening.” I imagine I’m one of millions having the same thought. I’m not embarrassed to say my eyes well up. But luckily, my tear doesn’t hit the floor – my smile catches it.
11:40 a.m. Jesus’ homeboy, Rick Warren rocks the house with the prayer. Everything is moving along smoothly with the good word, till our boy rolls up on this line. “…And with Barack’s two angels… SASHA… and MALIYA!”
The only problem is, he says it like he’s trying summon strength from Kunta Kenti leaving a voice mail to Mahatma Ghandi. Absolute hilarity. Sorry about that Jesus. Rick cracked us up with his Def Comedy
Jam.
NOON Even though he hasn’t been sworn in yet, Obama officially becomes President. Cheers, high fives, and hugs – tis is what we all came here for. We celebrate with another pint of
Milwaukee
’s finest champagne. It’s only fitting.
12:02 p.m. I send a “: )” in a text to a cute little tomato I’ve had a crush on. I figure the J emoticon says it all … without my dumbass getting in the way.
12:10 Barack takes the oath. We all cringe when Justice Roberts stumbles and stutters like Bob Newhart on an 8-ball. I just wanted it to be perfect. But I did think it was pretty cool that Barack catches it and tries to correct him. It kind of reminded me when at some weddings, the groom is retardedly nervous, so the minister has to go word by word in the vows, “I”… “.” ‘”Jay Winter”… “Jay Winter” “Do…”Do” “Solemnly…”
12:12 Aretha
Franklin
sings. She looks like a Christmas ornament on the world tackiest (biggest) Christmas tree. God bless you, Queen of Soul. Somebody let you leave the house like that.
12:27 Original gangsta, Rev. Joseph Lowery gives the benediction. And wow, what a benediction. The Rev was one of the Dr. Kings boys back in the day, and I’m just glad he was around long enough to not only see today, but be part of it. Without people like Lowery, there wouldn’t be a President Obama.
Barely tall enough to see over the podium, he starts off slow and shaky. You almost get nervous, but you know the crescendo. In true SCLC form, he slowly builds and builds until he’s breaking rhymes off at the end, “and the yellow… can mello. Brown can stick around. AND THE REDMAN CAN GET AHEAD, MAN!”
Even better than his speech at Corretta King’s funeral. ATL, represent, fool.
12:30 My cute tomato texts me back.
“: )”
Simple enough and enough said.
12:36 Bush gets on Marine One for the last time. You can’t help but remember the wonderful moments this man has given us while making this very walk. Like the time he spit, or when he hit his head on the top of the door. These very Presidential moments will be missed.
1:00 The bar is fairly cleared out at this point. It’s a Tuesday and some people do have real jobs, I suppose.
Four beers deep, I’ve set up shop In the middle of the bar. Kool Keith wonders back over and puts his arm around me. We tap glasses and he kills the last of whatever number of bloody Mary’s he’s had today. He says, “We did it.”
“Yes we can has,” I reply.
He turns and says, “Well … I gotta go teach my class at Georgia Tech.”
I look at him likes he’s speaking Mandarin.
“But I’ll be back,” he adds in English.
And off he went to mold minds on The Flats. Probably about as buzzed as a government issued crew cut.
1:05 Sitting at the bar by myself, I realize I haven’t eaten anything yet today. I give the room a look over. I look at my fresh Stella. I look at my watch. I might need to look at a menu or pretty soon I’ll be looking at either this ceiling, the back of my eye lids, or about three of the person sitting beside me.
BTW- This is just part 1.
part 2 is more of story of all the nutty characters I met through out the day.
and yes, i get pretty hammered.
fun stuff to come.