Two weeks ago I was driving down Cedar Road in Chesapeake taking my typical route to my office. If I remember correctly it was a cool morning perfect for my height weight ratio. With the window down and my voice belting out “Gloria” by Van Morrison, I looked to my left at the cemetary. Typically, I think how valuable the real estate is and would it be possible to remove all the bodies to a new cemetary and develop that land but today was different. My attention was drawn to a bright green tent covering a recently excavated grave. Preparations were complete for a funeral.  What was interesting to me was that there were four construction workers sitting in the first row of chairs set up for the family. They were taking a break and each one was smoking a cigarette looking satisfied with a job complete.  The green chair covers and the bright flowers posed a stark contrast to the dirty jeans and flannel shirts of the workers. I imagined them discussing the football games from the day before or the upcoming election. A flash of, “is that inappropriate? it seems a little disrespectful” went through my mind. Within hours, members of the recently departed would be sitting in the same chairs contemplating life, love and the when the pastor would finish. They might be thinking, “Thank God that miserable human being finally got what he deserved.” The latter seemed more appropriate for me but since I was still alive I thought the former more likely. I realized that for the four construction workers it was a job which held no philosophical or metaphysical meaning.  After work, they needed a place to sit down and take a smoke break.   That is it.  Context is very important. A worker sitting next to a woman dressed in black shaking his head and looking over at her after a long drag on his cigarette and saying, “That was a tough dig. I hope it fits.” Ironic juxtaposition.  The same workers taking the same smoke break along side a grieving family would be inappropriate and disrespectful. During the last verse of “Gloria” I left the cemetary behind with the question, “How many cigarettes are in those graves?” AH 

Good morning everyone. Time has passed and many of you probably thought that I had been kidnapped by aliens and removed from this pulsating orb. I will recount for you my adventures over the past thirty days. First, I was contacted by Sarah Palin’s candidacy to consult on whether 2 inch heels or 3 inch heels would work better for the debate. I argued vociferously for three inch stilettos because I felt that Joe Biden would be distracted. During the consultation, the campaign asked for a catch phrase to be used during the debate. I suggested “This mama ain’t votin for Obama.” Vernacular was not popular and Sarah went in another direction. I did leave a pair of three inch stilleto heels with her oldest daughter advising her that the shoes were for her mom not her. Ironically, the Obama campaign called as I was getting off my snow mobile and I shuttled off to “Obama 1″ to discuss the financial crisis with his team. My policy suggestion was for him to announce that at the beginning of his Presidency he would require the US Mint to begin printing currency in different colors. His presidency would take the ever popular game Monopoly into the main stream.  He understood that making under privileged people feel better about the money they did have in their wallets was more important than the value of the money because in his words “colors make people happy.” While discussing the need for a constitutional amendment allowing animals to vote in presidential elections, Dick Cheney called requesting me to get to the White House as soon as possible.  When I arrived at the White House I was allowed unrestricted access to the President and Vice President. They were both so busy with phone calls and meetings with Executives from Texas and Sheiks from Saudi Arabia that  I was allowed to walk the White House without escort. Amazingly, the White House has been turned into a Michael Jacksonesque Neverland complete with Ferris Wheel and jello slide from the Oval Office into the Lincoln Bedroom. Very Cool. Another interesting addition is the music that is played throughout the White House. It took me some time to catch the tune but if I am not mistaken it was Perry Como singing ”We did not start the fire” by Billy Joel.  As I inspected the jello slide I saw the phrase, “This slid thingamajiggy is mine - you know Georges - DO NT TCH - W” scribbled in red crayon on the side of the slide.  Strolling  downstairs I discovered a door slightly ajar. Curious, I pushed open the door and followed faint laughter (more like a cackle) down a dark staircase. As I approached a large room I stumbled upon VP Cheney wearing red and white and blue boxer shorts with the phrase “I PUT THE VICE IN VICE PRESIDENT” on the backside. Looking in disbelief, I saw the VP smoking something that looked like a cigar but upon closer look it was a rolled up a stock certificate for Lehman Brothers.  Piles of stock certificates  for Lehman Brothers, Bear Stearns, Wachovia, Washington Mutual and AIG were mixed in with tubs of riyals.  When I turned around to leave he asked me not to use the entrance but the exit which was located on the other side of the room. Stepping over and falling into huge mounds of cash and stocks, I put my hand on a door made of gold and silver.  On the bottom right hand part of the door the words “THIS DOOR PROVIDED TO THE VP WITH PRIDE AND HOPE. THANKS FOR ALL YOU HAVE DONE - REX TILLERSON.” When I went through the door I was transported magically to David Lesar’s hot tub.  I had a busy and weird thirty days.AH