July 7, 2006
Washington DC
I'm very weak but will try to do my best to fill you in on this week's activities. As you may have heard, Peace Mother Sheehan (PMS), as well as the biggest and brightest stars in media and politics, gathered in front of the White House to fast for an end to the Iraq war. Among those in attendance were Susan Sarandon, Sean Penn, and the Reverend Al Sharpton. I knew there was no way I could sit at home while these brave patriots were starving to death, so Scooter and I flew to Washington and joined them.
How wonderful it was to hook up again with Cindy! Although perhaps a little pastier and "horsier" than the last time I saw her, she nevertheless seemed energized as ever to stop this hopeless war. Monday night we prepared for the fast with peace songs, chanting, smoking herb, playing bongos, exposing our breasts and genitals for peace, and finally, a gigantic Mexican dinner thoughtfully provided by Brother Sharpton. Afterward we did bong hits until bedtime, then rested for the daunting challenge ahead.
On the Fourth we awoke to the sounds of a large press contingent setting up to report our dramatic self-sacrifice for peace. It was just like the "old days" last year when Cindy was the darling of the mainstream media. Just being surrounded by the likes of Sean and Susan made us feel invincible, and we knew this time we were bringing the troops home, no matter how many Iraqis had to die in the aftermath. Many well-wishers had also gathered, and their words of encouragement helped us through the day.
While flag-waving imbeciles shot off fireworks Tuesday night, we gathered together to sing protest songs, followed by the always dramatic "Lying Around Like We're Dead." A nice added touch to this powerful "street theater" was Scooter, wearing his George Bush mask, dancing over our bodies while laughing maniacally - that is until he accidentally stepped on Sean Penn's nuts. Penn, probably irritable from extreme hunger, beat Scooter viciously with his large peace symbol necklace until several of us pulled him off. The rest of the night was uneventful and the very picture of non-violence and harmony.
It's now been several days and some of us must be close to death. Although our spirits are strong, the lack of food is taking its toll on our bodies. Our leader, Peace Mother Sheehan, is probably suffering the most, having lost over three pounds, and now looks almost exactly like Sea Biscuit. I thought I could see my own ribs sticking out but later realized it was just the hash pipe in my pocket. Probably the only one of us who has held up well is Reverend Al, as he's remained effervescent as always. When he rolled over last night I could see why: he had Hot Pockets sewn into the inside lining of his suit coat, and a big bag of Gummi Bears tucked into his slacks. I agreed not to tell Cindy in exchange for two pizza Hot Pockets and $100 cash. Hey, I'm no idiot.
More later.
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