I don't go to very many places in Charlotte, but one place I do pop into upon occasion is the Thomas Street Tavern, here in avuncular Charlotte, North Dakota...I mean Carolina. Not sure why, perhaps I knew the President would, one day, go there. Maybe I was thirsty. The tavern used to be my post office. Perhaps I am a creature of habit. No doubt I am a creature. I do have a mirror.
But this is not really important, as is, say, flag-burning or the sad disappearance of the front porch swing. What IS important is that a geomantic concurrence involved our dear former leader, whom I have long advised, on a purely disinterested, volunteer basis, and one of whom might best understand the protean visions of an anonymous Moses. Everyone should have one.
So sorry to have repeated our peculiar left-hankshake, but I would still hope that, by some miracle involving the Information Superhighway, my dear old acquaintance will accept my good wishes that my fair city treated him well. And that, one day, he, Jimmy Carter, John Edwards, Billy Graham, Joel Osteen, Paul Newman, Peter Gomes, Skip Gates and I can share pithy apopthegms whilst pondering the pleroma of archons in our midst.
Short of that, a tip of the hat would do.
Oh, and Bill. Y'all need to anchor yourself near the North Carolina/New York border...as Jude and I are apt to say. We are the Andy Griffith State. We serve to heal and humor all who enter herein, that they may go forth a fine steward and exemplar, widening the circles of peace, mowing the lawns of satisfaction.
Well, maybe not that last one.
