In the dream, I’m recruited for a job by the Russian embassy, finding myself at a garden party one afternoon in a room alone with a handsome, steel-eyed (white) Russian named Vladimir, who tells me I am to spy for his country.
“But I love America and would never betray the kingdom,” I say.
“You will or we’ll kill you.”
Outside the room, plates and glasses crash to the floor and Sen. Ted Kennedy (D, MA) appears with his four Portuguese water dogs to spirit me away to safety.
“Thanks. I gave one to the president!”
Later, we stand shoulder to shoulder on the bank of the Potomac River, watching the slow-moving water.
“I can’t say I appreciate your stance on illegal aliens,” I say.
“That’s OK, son, I can’t say I appreciate your blogging,” he says, wheezing a bit. “Look, I’ve been in Washington a long time and I know what people want to hear: They want to commiserate about local underground railway service. The trains are late and overcrowded and the entire system is run by douches.
“And would it kill you to throw in some current events? A concert schedule? Train service updates?”
And then, like an old soldier, Sen. Kennedy begins to fade away.
“Yes, my son?”
“Those Boston Red Sox… they’re really something, aren’t they?”
This post was ghostwritten by Liz.
Posted by M@ at 12:34 PM