| ALL HAIL BREAKS OUT TO THE CHIEF
Jack Cawthon's CAWTHON'S CATHARSIS this week under COLUMNS:
When I walked into the Over Easy Inn recently, I found the mood jubilant. Jubilant isn't a word used much around Big Puf, except, perhaps, by Arley Cleeter, who has a tendency to read too many books before burning them.
For once, the atmosphere didn't seem related to the all-vegetarian diet of hops and barley, which taken to extremes, can account, to some extent, for global warming mixed with bouts of tropical depression.
For a while, as I waited for the euphoria to settle, or explode, I was taken aback by the revelers. Slowly, as do most thoughts come in Big Puf, I became aware that the joy was centered around the president of the United States, George Junior Boosh, as he is known locally.
As the outsider that I am, I don't want to exert undo attention to the political sciences I had absorbed as a learner, or inmate, depending on your charitable opinion of the state's largest mental institution situated in Morgantown. But, finally, my inquiring mind could contain itself no longer, and I asked subtly: What the (bleep) is going on?
Homer Bob, who stood behind the bar and often stood beside the local barrister, Voy Dire, Big Puf's answer to both torts and tarts, as he made his way shakily back to his legal pad, told me that George Junior Boosh had solved all that ails the country. For a moment, the thought raced through me that Bush had resigned, but assuming that there was more to the story, in a Paul Harvey moment I waited to hear more.
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