The other day I was talking to John Ashcroft. Well, I was talking. He was listening. My girlfriend tells me not to flatter myself, but I swear sometimes I hear clicks on our phone line. You just know that some day it will be revealed that J. Edgar Ashcroft often enjoyed a good threeway. Anyway, I was telling my friend about an incident at the Lesbian Health Conference.
While attending in Washington, DC, two lesbians were standing in their hotel room window watching the world go by. Suddenly the Bush presidential motorcade roared by. Back from a run? Off to the ranch? Late for a war?
The two women were perhaps still miffed that the Bush administration’s Health and Human Services had slashed $75,000 in conference funding just three months prior to the conference. For whatever reason and there are so many to chose from, they flipped the bird in the direction of the tinted windows of the Pres-mobile.
Faster than you can say or feel “a heightened state of alert,” there was a knock on their door. It was fifteen minutes. Two burly Secret Service men entered the room and began questioning them. Shockingly unaware of the universal meaning of the flipped bird, the agents asked, “What did you mean by the gesture?