This story was written in October of 1998.
 The day I got home from DC, my e-mail was aflame with people asking me
 what I thought about the Dr Laura spread-legged pictures, to give you a time frame.

 Part One of this story ran back then, and Part Two was almost finished,
 but between the vulgar Harpy straddle pics and Bill's Exciting Impeachment,
 I somehow became distracted and never pressed "send," on the rest of the story.

 Part Two has a goofy factor, written back in my heavy whiskey days.
 I left it in as a goof, to show my "maturity" as a writer.
 I may not write any more better than I did two years ago,
 but Koresh knows I'm writing a lot more.

 Remember when I used to do a 30K issue every four weeks?
 Now I do an issue by 2PM

 Warning: This includes the dreaded "Rape at Red Sage."
 That was a night several people won't forget.

 Anyway, here's that Part II, with starting with Part One as an on-ramp..
 Wish me luck!

 It was October 1988
 Part One of The Trip was originally posted in Volume 131

 The Trip to D.C.

 Our Van Gogh tickets came in and we're off to Washington DC.
 For the first time ever, we're traveling with a companion.  He's a world-class architect,
 who's done buildings you know, and houses of people you know, and he's successful enough
 at architecting to have a world-class art collection. We're going to see Van Gogh with an expert.

 I also took the Glock, against everyone's advice.
 You can pull my hand off the gun..., wait,
 you can take my cold fingers off the barrel... wait,
 you can pull the barrel from the... wait,
 you can take the gun by the barrel and... fuck it.

 Damn.

 I was a little worried about taking it, but I kept the flight crew informed about it,
 I didn't try to sneak it or anything,  ...didn't try to pull a Barry Switzer...

 I also learned the correct words to say when informing security that I'm carrying a weapon.
 I figure it's smarter to whisper, "There's a disassembled pistol, locked in my suitcase."
 They like this a LOT better than, "...I HAVE A GUN!!"

 ADM was, once again, very accomodating to offer us their new G5 for our trip.
 This one had a goddamn fireplace and a piano. The only bad thing was their schedule
 conflicted with mine, and we had to come back early or land at the ADM home office
 in Wichita (and see Andy - Iccckkk!) if we flew back Saturday.

 (more on that later)

 So, we're 28,000 feet, flying into Washington DC at night.
 Koresh, that's a pretty sight.

 The Capitol is all lit up.
 The Lincoln Memorial is all lit up.
 The Jefferson Memorial is all lit up.
 The Washington Monument is all lit up.

 But ...where's the White House?

 Maybe it's the angle, although we did it twice, but you can't even find the White House from the air.
 It's hidden in the trees, somehow.
 Makes sense - protect Clinton, keep him alive at all costs.

 So, we're approaching  REAGAN Airport, the pilot has cleared everything, and we're starting
 our final approach, when the tower comes on and asks if we're also known as "BartCop One."

 I told the pilot, Enrique, "Deny everything!!!"
 Enrique said he could lose his pilot's license if he was caught lying
 to a federal official, but I told him to do it anyway.
 (Liberals don't HAVE to follow rules, you know. ha ha )

 The tower comes back and says there's a "mixup" with our flight plan, and for "security reasons"
 we had to proceed to BWI Airport in Baltimore, "if we wanted to land."

 Yeah, asshole.
 We want to land...

 I grabbed the mic and told the tower:

 "See here! You're making a BIG mistake. I have friends, Sir.
  Powerful friends in the DNC who wouldn't want to hear of this slight,
  and if you know what was good for you, you'll clear us to land right away."

 So, ...we're headed to Baltimore to land the damn jet.

 We get to Baltimore, and I realize we now need a car.
 I check with the rental places for a car, and they're all sold out,
 except for one sissyfied, 4-cylinder, powder-blue Town Car.
 This was alllll the fault of the RNC, trying to sabotage my trip here.
 We got the powder-puff Town Car and headed to Washington DC.

 When you come into DC from BWI, you're on the Wash-Balt Parkway, or some damn road.
 When that Parkway ends, you'd better be caught up with your prayers because
 you're suddenly in the Chevy-Chase, National-Lampoon part of DC.

 At night.

 Here I am, with a Glock, Mrs. BartCop, and the world-class architect,
 driving through fucking Beirut in a pastel-blue Town Car.
 The GOFP - always trying to destroy me.
 I finally spotted a ramp for I-395 and we sped to safety.

 Continuing on, we drove past that new $65,000,000 NRA building.
 Our world-class architect friend said it looked "simple and phallic."
 That was a  Shocker...

 I felt a little better about holding the Glock.
 The NRA wouldn't have their Home Office in a "dry" county, would they?

 We arrive at the Arlgton Marriott too late to do much.
 We grabbed a sandwich and a drink and turned on the TV.

 They offer movies at the Marriott.
 They offer dirty movies at the Marriott in Arlington.
 They offer dirty AMATEUR movies at the goddamn Marriott.
 I need to get out more - open my eyes a little...

 First on the list was "Pam and Tommy - The Honeymoon Tapes."

 Why is the Marriott offering a stolen video of a young couple acting like
 Perot's rabbits on their honeymoon on their Pay-Per-View system?
 I wonder how the President of Marriott Inc. would like it
 if HIS honeymoon video was making the rounds?

 Don't get me wrong - I've had this video for a year.

 Remember the "Mayhem" tattoo that proved the man in the Lake Mead porn video wasn't me?
 (see Volume 94)
 That's this video and, surprisingly, their copy was better than mine.
 And let me also say that I think both Clinton and Clarence Thomas
 would really, really like the Pam and Tommy tape, but ...back to the story...:

 Why is this stolen, litigated, personal and private home video sold solely for the
 purient amusement of the customers at the goddamn Arlington Marriott?
 They have a little sign on the screen that says,
 "Don't worry, the title of the porno movie isn't printed on your receipt."

 Marriott Inc. - what a classy bunch.
 So Mrs. Corporate Suit won't find out what her dweeb-loser of a husband
 has been masturbating to when his cheap-ass can't come to terms with the
 toothless-crack-whore-hooker on the street, charging it to his company card.

 Gotta love those Marriott family values.

 They also offered "Peggy Gets Off."
 Swear to Koresh.
 They called it an adult "amateur" movie.

 Oh, pleeeeeeeeeze!
 Marriott Inc. paid a woman named "Peggy" to make a videotape of herself
 getting lucky with a small cooking apple stuck in a piece of plastic pipe?

 Y'know...
 It doesn't seem right.

 I'm a free-wheeling, 60's-type, anything-goes kind of liberal, owned a live rock club,
 but this isn't what I want from the Marriott Corporation.
 I'd like to think the sheets at the Marriott are CLEAN, if you get my drift.
 I wasn't happy about that, so we only stayed one night.
 (...and they didn't charge me for the movie.)

 ha ha

 Next day, up at the crack of dawn and we're off to Monticello.
 We're going to see the self-built home of Thomas Jefferson.

 I like Tom Jefferson a lot.
 He was nobody's fool, and that was 200 years ago.

 Here's a quote from Jefferson:

 "Politics is such torment,
   I would never want a loved one to follow in my footsteps."

 ...and this was BEFORE Herr Starr and Linda Tripp.

 We took the Monticello tour.
 Our guide was a little smug and stuffy.
 I sized her up as a ditto-monkey.

 Isn't that a kick?

 A ditto-monkey giving BartCop a tour of Monticello.
 She was giving off this "superior" vibe, like the woman who gave up some dittohead
 to be declared "Miss America."     The new Miss America said "Clinton should resign."

 Seems to me, if you're a ditto-monkeyette, you should do like Rush and Newt say
 and keep your goddamn stupid opinions to yourself if you have a uterus.
 It's like Bill Bennett (still smoking) said on Meet the Whore,

 "It's that thing between their legs ...makes 'em stupid."

 So tour-ditto-monkeyette is snarling at me, and I saw an opening.
 She just finished with some long-assed rant about how she considered Monticello
 Jefferson's "greatest architectual achievement," then asked if anyone had any questions.

 I had a remark, rather than a question. I said that, while the house was very nice,
 I didn't consider it Jefferson's best architectual work.

 Well, Miss Ditto-monkey snarled again and said if Monticello wasn't
 his best best architectual work, could I please tell her what was?

 I told her, in my opinion,
 Jefferson's best architectural work was the wall he erected between Church and State.

 Oooooooohhhhhh, ...she didn't like that.
 She didn't like that at ALL.

 She started whining about what a religious man Jefferson was, and I told her I had no problem
 with that, but thank Koresh Jefferson knew that religio-nuts need to be kept in check,
 so he built a brick wall between fantasy and science to protect us.

 Editor's Note: Thank you, Tom!

 Suddenly, ...the tour was over.
 The others in our group blamed me!

 HEY!

 It's not MY fault if I'm the only one currently standing on Jefferson's property who
 understood what he stood for.  At least they didn't call security on me.
 It was the first time that week I didn't get arrested.

 So, we left Monticello for Mount Vernon - home of George Washington.
 (You notice I didn't mention the fact that Jefferson raped a female slave, which produced
 at least one child that he denied while President. That's downright Hyde-ian.)
 Let's hope the tour guide at Mt. Vernon isn't another ditt.
 I'm not in the mood.

 So we get to Mount Vernon, and frankly, the place was a little rundown.
 Remember, we were with a world-class architect, who pointed out the state of disrepair,
 the cheap paint, the cheesy wallpaper and the "discount" wood-protection they were putting
 on the back porch.  They were using cheap materials to make repairs on Our Founder's home.

 I figured I might as well risk TWO fights, so I asked,
"What's the deal with the rotting wood and the cheesy wallpaper?"

 Our guide said "The Republicans cut our funding! We must become
 ENTIRELY self-sufficient by 2000, ...then we get cut off completely."

 Those dirty, rotten Republicans.

 Companies like ADM get a BILLION DOLLAR tax break, just so Bob Dole can pad his
 illegal campaign coffers and buy his Bag o' Hairspray some self-respect as a "fund-raiser..."
 Meanwhile, George Washington's home is rotting?

 BIG Tobacco and BIG Guns and BIG Religion raise over a half-billion
 dollars so the GOFP can buy "less government,"

 ...and George Washington's home is rotting???
 

 One other thing:

 Jefferson has the better house, but Washington had the view.
 Out the back door, Washington had a view better than the Rio Suites in Las Vegas.
 You look out the back of Mount Vernon and you see the Potomac.

 Wait a minute...

 The Potomac looks to be about a mile wide near Mount Vernon.
 I remember something about George Washington bragging he skimmed a
 silver dollar across the Potomac when he was a kid.
 The Potomac at Mount Vernon is wider than the Mississippi River at St Louis.
 I don't think anybody can throw anything that far.
 It would take Barry Bonds a dozen throws to clear the Potomac

 Was Washington lying?

---
 This is out of sequence, no telling why...)
---

 We watched the great debate between Maryland's governor, Parris Glendening
 (who we all remember as the Judas who invited Clinton to come to Maryland and campaign
 for him, then UNINVITED him, to the supreme glee and delight of the vulgar Pigboy Limba)
 and some wide-bodied, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-assault-weapon,
 ditto-monkeyette named Ellen Sauerkraut.

 The debate was boring as hell.
 They BOTH had GREAT chances to score knockouts, but they were
 so timid, so afraid of rocking the boat, neither scored a hit.

 Ordinarily, I'd go with the Democrat, but I don't like traitors.
 I don't like traitors one-fucking bit, so I threw my support behind the wide-bodied,
 forced-prayer, anti-education, anti-choice, pro-assault-weapon, ditto-monkey Naziette.

 I know she'd be bad for Maryland, and I'm sorry about that.
 ...but I just can't stand traitors.

 The way this night is going, the traitor will win.
 (He did.)

-----

 The next day was G. Gordon Liddy day.
 I've heard him say his radio studio is in Fairfax, VA, and we were near Fairfax,
 so we went looking for WJFK.    Found it, at 10500 Main St.

 We drove under/behind the building, but couldn't find his Corvette.
 Let me tell you, Liddy is REAL proud of that Corvette.
 Just Wednesday, he said "I'd like to fly a Messerschmidt plane sometime,
 but that's about as likely as someone driving MY Vette."

 Then we spotted it - undercover.

 He puts a parachute-type white cover on his precious Vette,
 and he has the spot right by the door.
 There's not 5 feet between his car and WJFK's door.

 So, I put a BartCop card under his windshield-wiper and we left.
 Liddy's education isn't yet complete.
 I wonder if his ass is still sore from our fax debate?

 ha ha

 Next up?

 The Democratic National Committee, at SE Capitol and Canal,
 as though having your HQ on Canal Street was a surprise, guys.

 Time to get even with those pricks at the REAGAN Airport.
 Denying me a runway for my private jet?
 I'll teach 'em.
 They're going to pay now, and pay good.

 I walked in the front doors and asked to see the person in charge.
 The receptionist was not the usual receptionist you'd expect.
 He was an elderly gentleman with a gun and rotting teeth.

 He told me I wasn't allowed in the building.

 Huh?

 "You're not allowed in this building," said the cop.

 I said, "You don't understand - I'm BartCop."
 Receptionboy said "What's a BartCop?"

 Oh, please!

 I'm at Demo HQ, and I get "What's a BartCop?"
 I said "I'm BartCop. I want to talk to somebody about shabby treatment
 I got at the new airport. Isn't there someone I can speak to?"

 He said, "No, we're not open to the public."

 "Huh?" I said.
 "You're not open to the public?"

 No wonder we can't win an election anymore.
 (Remember, this was 10/98)

 We do the Democrats turn their fans away?
 Why are you so exclusive?
 Why the elitism?

 You don't even have a Democratic Hall of Fame?
 Show me the pen Johnson used when he signed legislation that
 allowed negroes the RIGHT TO VOTE for the first goddamn time!
 I got money.

 SHOW ME!
 Show me FDR's pipe collection.

 Show me JFK's putter.

 Show me Truman's "Dewey Wins" headline.
 I got money!!

 SHOW ME!
 But noooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
 Nothing like that here, according to the receptionist with the gun.

 I was very polite, but STILL, I was shown the door.
 I was, however, victorious.
 For the second time, I avoided arrest.

 I guess I should've suspected something when the receptionist wasn't an attractive blonde.
 If you're not open to the public, might as well have Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy working the door.

 So, by now, ...I'm not in a very good mood.

 A week before we went to DC, I had a local print shop make up some
 small business cards with bartcop.com on them.
 I spread those cards everywhere.

 the Library of Congress,
 the National Archives,
 the Capitol,
 the Freer Gallery
 the Senate and House office buildings,
 the White House,
 the BWI airport,
 the Smithsonian,
 the National Gallery of Art,
 the Willard,
 the Marriott,
 the Holiday Inn,
 Monticello,
 Mount Vernon,
 every place we went, BartCop cards were placed on shelves,
 coffee tables, mantles, lamps, couches and counters.

 But not the Democratic National Headquarters.
 Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
 BartCop can't get in the door at the Demo HQ.

 (big exhale)

 I walk the four blocks to the Capitol, where I get MORE shit.
 I go up to the front of the Capital, the very core of the CENTER
 of our governing body and I see a life-size statue of Jesus Christ
 and two ditto-tangs, right in the CENTER of the MIDDLE of the steps
 of the MAIN entrance to the Capitol of our country.

 These primates were from "The Christian Civil Liberties Union."
 They had a little skit set up, and they had bullhorns.
 There little skit consisted of pictures of Clinton and Hitler
 with quotes like, "KILL THEM ALL," on the steps of the Capitol.
 They were screaming about what a "monster" our President is.
 They were screaming how Hitler and Clinton were the same, on the steps of MY Capitol.

 This pissed me off in a non-comedic way.

 I stood there, in front of them, reading their propaganda,
 hoping they'll ask me if I've been saved, or have an opinion.

 ha ha

 I counter-punch a LOT better than I punch.

 They ignored me.
 The Planet of the Apes wins Round One.

 So, I went to a Capitol Guard and asked how it was possible that
 a group of insane, ditto-tangs could grab the Capitol steps.

 He said it was called "Freedom of Speech."
 (slow burn)

 This cop is introducing me to the concept of free speech?
 That pissed me off.

 I said, "So, where do you draw the line?
 What if they were chanting, 'Fuck Clinton?'
 Would that be allowed?
 What if they had bloody dolls all over the Capitol steps?
 Would that be allowed?
 I'd like some answers, please."

 He repeated, "Freedom of Speech."

 I asked what would happen if I confronted these hoodlums.
 The Capitol Guard started getting impatient with me.
 He said THEY had a permit, so any "ruckus" would be my fault.

 "Yeah," I said, "there'd BE a ruckus, Cubby."
 "Who gives out the permits - Newt Gingrich?"

 Then, (piss me off) he said he "couldn't understand the words I was using."
 By now, I'm into my third piss-off of the morning.

 I started to use a WHOLE NEW set of words.
 I might not be the most plain-speaking man in America,
 but when I get angry, I tend to use words that have more consonants in them, (cough)
 thereby INCREASING the likelyhood they'll be understood.

 ...but, no sense in getting a plunger up the ass, right?

 I thanked him and walked away, victorious.
 I didn't get arrested for the third time.

==========

 I had a story that went here about Wolf Blitzer.
 Wolf, as most people know, is as big a whore as Washington has.
 This story involved Wolf's dignity and an amorous seeing-eye dog
 that the bartcop of 2002 feels is inappropriate.

 The bartcop of 1998 thought it was funnier than a mother-effer,
 but as I mature, I realize projecting pain on those who extra deserve it isn't  ...mature.
 So, I think maybe the seeing-eye-dog/Wolf Blitzer story should remain untold.

 ...part of my maturation as a writer, you see...

==========

 So I'm walking down Pennsylvania Avenue and I see a door,
 right on Pennsylvania Avenue, about the 1000 block or so
 that says "Office of the Independent Prosecutor."

 Ha!

 I figure this is the opportunity of a lifetime.
 There was no reason not to, so I went inside this grey building.
 I see a sign that says "Judge Kenneth Starr's Office"
 with an arrow pointing, ...wouldn't you know it - to the right.

 I start walking down the hall towards Po' Kenny's office,
 and not only is nobody stopping me, two guys nodded "Hello" to me
 and one guy gave me a smile and a wave.

 What's the deal?

 Ol' BartCop can't even get past the door at Democratic HQ,
 but I'm invited in for coffee at Po Kenny's?

 Yeah, they had donuts and orange juice for visitors.
 Finally, a fellow wandered over and asked who I was.
 Knowing that I hadn't (yet) broken any laws, I told the truth:

 That I was BartCop, and I wrote a little newsletter on the Internet called
 "Bill Clinton - Lying Nazi Whore."

 He asked me if I could PROVE that.

 Uh-Oh....

 I just hoped they wouldn't search me.
 They'd find my bartcop.com cards and discover I write
 "Rush Limba - Lying, Nazi Whore"

 Koresh, he might get me for lying to a federal official,
 or trying to obstruct justice, or conspiracy to embarrass him.
 I might get that plunger after all.
 Then it came to me:

 "Sure, call the airport and talk to the pilot on my private jet."

 Stroke of genius...

 ha ha

 The old IQ of 64 came thru

 So, some guy named Jackie Bennett called the G5 and my man Enrique
 told 'em I was on the Archer-Daniels-Midland payroll.
 Bennett looked at me and laughed and said, "You, too?"

 Cool.
 I was home free.
 Not only was I NOT in trouble, but Starr's staff was CERTAIN
 I was getting money from ADM, (which I am) and CERTAIN that I
 was on their side - a Clinton-hating-fascist, so they opened up.

 Bennett: So, what can I do for you?
                Do you have any questions?

 BartCop: Questions? Yeah, I have a question.
                  How do you like working for a doucheba...
                  ...dooo ...ah   duly-appointed special prosecutor?

 Bennett: Starr is the best investigator I've ever seen.
                He's such a natural detective, and, sometimes, even his
                body helps him with these kinds of investigations.

 BartCop: Huh?

 Bennett: It's like this, Judge Starr can spot a cover-up a mile away.
                He can SMELL a crime being committed.
                When Judge Starr is on a case, he's so tuned-in to getting
                his prey, his body works in conjunction with his powers of
                deduction and criminals everywhere had better beware."

 BartCop: What do you mean 'his body works with him' on a case.

 Bennett: Why do you think Starr travels with twenty pairs of pants?

 BartCop:

 Bennett: When he gets near evidence of a crime,
                 when he gets real close to nailing someone, ...his penis sneezes.

 BartCop: His WHAT?!?!

 Bennett: That's right, his penis sneezes, sometimes really loud.
                When he gets new evidence, or a report back from the lab,
                or when the pieces of the crime start to fall into place, ...his penis sneezes.

 BartCop: Get the fuck outta here...

 Bennett: ...and sometimes it  honks,  too.

 BartCop: ...I ...I

 Bennett: Yes, sometimes it honks like a flock of Canadian geese.

 BartCop: Mr. Starr's penis honks?

 Bennett: ...only when it smells a crime.

 BartCop: ...any particular tune?

 ha ha
 This is so sick...

 Bennett: If his penis sneezes, he KNOWS somebody is guilty of something.

 BartCop: Starr is letting his penis run this investigation?

 Bennett: It's OK. His penis runs ALL his investigations.
                That's why he's been so successful.
                Hell, he's been that way ever since I met him.
                I was with him when he heard Espy got free Cowboy tickets.

                His penis was braying like mating donkeys.
                Hell, it was louder than the St Valentine's Day massacre.
                In 1994, when he prepared Paula Jones's petition, his penis
                sneezed so much he had to be hospitalized for dehydration.

 BartCop: You say, in '94, Starr prepared Paula's petition?

 Bennett: Yeah, (giggle) Nobody's supposed to know, ha ha
                 By the way, you know you can't print any of this...
                 Judge Starr doesn't like unflattering stories, understand?

 BartCop: There's no doubt which side I'm on, Sir.

 Bennett: Good boy.

===================

Rape at Red Sage

I was getting hungry, so I met up with the rest of the gang
and we went looking for a nice place to eat.

We found "Red Sage," a snooty steakhouse-looking place,
one block east of the White House.

The placed seemed OK, a little too trendy for me.
We sat down, we ordered.

My salad was some leafy matter stuffed into a slice of cucumber.
I asked for Ranch dressing, the guy fucking LAUGHS at me and says,
"We only serve vinegarette and some "french feycxht" on the salad.
I kept waiting for him to say, "Just kidding."

Nope.

Fine, bring me the salad dressing I don't want...
Your tip meter just started running, Napkinboy.

This was such an expensive restaurant, they didn't even have salt
and pepper on the table. When I asked for it, Napkinboy mumbled
something under his breath about me "challenging" the chef.

Hey, fuck the chef!
For $45 dollars a plate,
I should get oral sex with this dinner.

I ordered the "Cowboy steak," which was the only thing on the menu
that wasn't callimari, or pecan-encrusted breast of red-quail.

AFTER I ordered the steak, Napkinboy explained it was a bone-in Ribeye,
 ...and how did I want it cooked?

You can NOT trust these Snooty chefs.

If I'd ordered it "rare" or "medium," it would've come raw.
So, I ordered "medium-well," hoping the 150K chef would have the
brains to know how hot his oven was, but nooooooooooooooo.

Burnt to a f-ing crisp.

There's more I could tell you about Red Sage,
...but you get the general idea, right?

It was a meal of horrors.
Mrs. BartCop has the fancy tuna or some weird dish, and it came raw.

Prefect!
My steak is a crisp, her entre is raw, and the world class architect
didn't want to make a scene.

Then, when the bill came, I looked it over.

F-ing extra crisp "cowboy steak" was $35.
Margarita was $8.50.

Tuna, extra-extra-rare was $35.
Black, warm Zinfandel was $8.50.

Pecan-encrusted red-quail with Agnew sauce was $30.
and there was an extra $8.50 for ...what is "...GZNHT?"
I didn't remember ordering any kind of "GZNHT."
I asked Napkinboy about it, he said that was for my sneeze.

Napkinboy gave me "Gazundtheit" afterwards.

Now, goddammit, I don't care what anybody says, charging
only $8.50 for a Gazundtheit proves this place had class!

The bill for the three dinners was $148.80,
I gave the SOB a hundred and a fifty.

Napkinboy says, "I'll be right back with your change."
I said, "No, that's for YOU, Cubby."

Napkinboy got a tip of $1.20.
It's my duty to fuck with the snooty.

...and I left Cubby a handful of  bartcop.com  cards.

===================

It was getting late, so we went looking for a hotel.
Our architect friend mentioned that, many years ago,
he stayed at The Willard, so we went there for a room.

Expensive place, that Willard.

They wanted $745 per night - for one room.
Fuck it, we went for it.
I had all of October's ADM cash, and even some cash
left over from the Texas trip to see Jimmy Page.

The Willard is expensive and creepy.
It's set up like the Titanic. Everything is "real."

You know like when you're in Las Vegas, and you can tell,
even with all their millions, that they're "faking" the luxury?
The Willard is REAL luxury, which isn't my favorite.
Luxury usually means "assholes."

Plus, the A/C was rumbling a little, and it sounded like the
engine room of the Titanic, so we just stayed one night and left.

Snooty hotels, snooty restaurants,
...getting on my nerves.

Driving tips for DC

OK, lissen up because here's the deal on driving in DC.
You've heard the horror stories, right?

relax...

Driving in DC isn't the wild nightmare everybody said it was.
Yeah, I heard all the horror stories about DC traffic.

Hell, it was easy, if you know the rules:

- If a sign says "Left Turn Permitted," turn left there.
  Even if it's the wrong direction, turn left.
  You might not get another chance.
  In DC, there ARE no left turns.
  If you see a chance to turn left, you take that mother.

(I can imagine the reaction.
 People never been to DC saying, "That's not funny."
 People been to DC are saying, "Damn, that's funny!)

- If you miss your turn, no problem.
  In DC, there are no missed turns.
  You just make a Bat-Turn.
  Hard to port, hit the brakes and squeal like a Dornan.
  The DC cops LOVE a spontaneous 180.

- If you find yourself stuck in traffic, don't panic,
  unless you're in a 4-cylinder, powder-blue Town car.

  Just floor it.
  That worked great for me.
  If you get stuck in traffic in DC, drive like Charlie Sheen on whiskey.
  We were stuck in Georgetown about 4:30, going nowhere.
  I just hit the gas and played Frogger.
  Drivers are so timid in DC, they bought my bluff.

- Parking?
  Not a problem.

  The town is loaded with special parking spaces for tourists.
  Just look for a sign that says "By Permit Only."
  Fuck the permit, park anywhere you want.

  Hey, it's a rented car, right?

The next day...

The Archives of The United States of America.

"THE TIES THAT BIND THE LIVES OF OUR PEOPLE
IN ONE INDISSOLOBULE UNION ARE PERPETUATED
IN THE ARCHIVES OF OUR GOVERNMENT AND
TO THEIR CUSTODY THIS BUILDING IS DEDICATED."
 

Strong, emotional f-ing words,
words that put tears in your eyes,

...words that could disrupt Pigboy's money flow.

Pigboy doesn't LIKE words like "harmony" and "indissolobule."
Those words threaten everything Rush says.
Words like that cost him MONEY!

He's for "Individualism."
Screw the word "union" in ANY context.
It's too socialist a concept for Herr Gerbilboy.

If this country ever got united, Pigboy would lose millions.
Why do you think he's been such a whore on "the scandals?"
Rush can't make any money unless there's turmoil, suspicion,
tumult, despair and a little religious insanity for good measure.

Carved in stone, at the Archives, it says:

"Eternal Vigilance is the Price of Liberty"

Maybe back then...
Keeping GOP fascism in check is the price of liberty today.

Lots of stuff at the archives, including the fake Chap-Stick that G. Gordon Liddy used
to hide his walkie-talkie when he was committing his felonies for  President Corruptus.

We also saw the exhibit on Rosa Parks.
If you don't know who Rosa Parks is, you probably voted for Dole.

The Martin Luther King Jr. display -

"And you know, my friends, there comes a time when people get
  tired of being trampled over with the iron feet of oppression."
    -- MLK

Moving stuff.

With every episode of hate radio, the GOFP convict themselves of the
most heinous crimes against their country, freedom and humanity itself.
(I don't like nazi's.   Not one fucking bit.)

Then came the BIG prize.

The Constitution of The United States.
(Hey, I've been in a goddamn Mexican Jail)
The Declaration of Independence.
The Bill of Rights.

The Constitution is ensconsed behind massive, 12-foot, brass gates.
It's preserved under glass on an altar.
It was all very Catholic.

I had flashbacks just looking at it.
I instinctively started spouting Latin, but Mrs. BartCop
gave me an elbow to the ribs and brought me out of it.

The Constitution of The United States.

It's very embarrassing when ol' BartCop has to dab his eyes with a tissue.
I'm old and crusty and above all that, right?

It's the Goddamn United States Constitution.

Koresh, what a sight to see.

The Constitution of the United States of America.
Everybody should go to DC once in their life to stare at this old, yellow document.
This is the document that gives us everything that the other countries don't get.

As previously stated,
I was once a "guest" of the Mexican Government.
I can truthfully say their jails are a deterrent.

...and you can't get more innocent than ol' BartCop,

yet...

yet...

yet, the injustice of my arrest did occur.

If it wasn't for my skills at oral sex,
I could've been in real trouble.

 ha ha

...little HUMOR,

Unless I'm a guest in the Clinton or Carter parties,
I won't be spending any more important American dollars in Mexico.

So, ...

when I have the pleasure of getting face-to-face with the Constituion,
forgive me if I admit to some wood.
The Constitution is the "loophole" legal device the non-wealthy use to get out of jail.

Just for a moment, I'd like everyone to consider something:
Since most of us had the GREAT luck to be born in America,
that's like being born into a rich family in a small town.

If you were born in America, even on a bad day, your standard of living is superior to
every other unlucky son-of-a-bitch born on this planet,    ...so why aren't we happy?

We pretty much have everything we'd ever want.
Sure, we could have a newer car, a bigger home, etc etc etc,
but we'll never be fucking invaded, like Europe or Asia.

When disaster strikes, we're still the richest nation.
But we gotta HATE each other, cause Rush needs the money.
We don't just "disagree,"
we're opposites that must destroy, because Rush needs the money.

Don't think Rush is a harmless piece of phlem.
He RUNS the GOFP.

HE knows he's a joke, but he's stuck!
What can he do?
TELL his millions of ditto-tangs he was "kidding?"

EXPLAIN to them that this was just his "show biz persona?"
When Rush tells them, they're going to want their money back.

You see?
He's stuck.

Let's offer Rush amnesty.
He can keep his money, but the whoring, nazi lies stop now.

Deal?

Let's all promise NOT to laugh when the dittoheads are told that Maja Rushie was just
"playing the buffoon" for his $25,000,000 each year, and that the kidding's over,
and we're going to go back to being a united country again.

What do you think, Pigboy?

Deal?

Click  Here   for the final part of the Washington DC 1998 trip report