Uncle Barry decided to accept the invitation to the Lodge Social, even though the Lodge leaders weren't sure it was going to be held. Nobody really had any idea what the function was going to end up looking like with the budget cuts and all.
The function ended up being a light meal with some good conversation around the table, Uncle Barry had retired to a plush chair near the fireplace. He had lit up a cigar and poured a glass of wine, all the way to the top of the glass. The conversation was dying away and everyone started to glance in Uncle Barry's direction.
He was tipsy, reeked like a tobacco chimney and had unbuttoned his pants, belly extended from eating nearly as much as everyone else put together. He was a slob, everyone thought so and wondered how the guy had finagled an invitation.
"Let me tell you something" Uncle Barry said, reading from one of the TelePrompTers he had brought with him. "Let me be clear", some in the room laughed.
Uncle Barry stood up and looked down his nose at those gathered. Apparently in his drunken stupor it was easier to see this way. "I want each and every one of you to understand where I am coming from. By the way this was a lovely meal, I regret the lack of wagyu but that is neither here or there..."
His "audience" glanced at each other. The "off-hand" remarks were clearly scrolling across the TelePrompTer, easily visible even if inverted. Does this man ever have his own thoughts?
If someone changed the script would he continue reading? Someone whispered, that once they had seen Barry thank himself because someone had forgotten to change the speech in the TelePrompTer. Someone nearby mumbled they saw Barry speak without one before and it wasn't pretty, "I'm still trying to figure out where the other 9 states are, especially the 7 he said he'd visited".
Truthfully, nobody was taking Uncle Barry seriously. They had all heard his rants and raves before. He was like a broken record, all it takes is a little alcohol to get him going. He's like the half-black sheep of the lodge, even his friends were a little ashamed. The ones who could feel shame.
Most of his supporters simply nodded, they didn't seem to even be paying attention. Nana had an earpeice, she was probably listening to NPR instead. It was so embarassing to see Christopher recording this on his cellphone, he was going to mail it to everyone he knew, AGAIN. Why was his leg shaking like a dog getting a good scratch in just the right spot?
Really Uncle Barry, listen to the doctors. Get some better advice and a better class of friends while your at it. Visited those 2 other imaginary states too.
For the White House Press Corps, Football Is Issue #1
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