Bichitalk: The Original

In addition to the world's first Pizza Hut and a serial killer with a name often confused with a Burger King meal, Wichita can now boast a visit from everyone's favorite politician (frighteningly true in this city), George Bush. Yesterday, the President visited with underpriviledged kids at the new Boys and Girls Club facilities, where in an effort to relate to the children, he urged them to call him by his street name, G-Dub. The Wichita Eagle, that beacon of prize journalism, cited that his activities there included "pleasing the children, putting his arms aroudn some of them, talking with them, and watching girls jump rope in the gym" and other creepy, too-close-for-comfort behavior. He reportedly refused participation in a game of double-dutch, but engaged poorly in a lively round of foosball. Overall, I think these incidents bring some alarming issues to the forefront of the Presidency. If our President can't even control small, one-legged plastic soccer players, how can we ever expect him coordinate thousands of troops in a war where the soldiers aren't attached at the shoulder by a long metal pole? Stances on abortion, evironmental issues, should clearly be put on the backburner in respect to good foosball skills; I know it will be the prime candidential quality I will consider when casting my vote next year. Instead of an electoral debate next year, I move that we have a foosball tournament to sway voters.
The Eagle also quotes "[Bush's] remarks were so short that some of the boys and girls making shapes out of dough in the lobby did not even look up from their dough balls to listen." (An more boisterious, unidentified young miscreant reportedly took his own souvenir from the President while shaking his hand. Afterwards, the President looked down at his bare wrist, muttering under his breath, "Damn it, not again!") The story's contributors continue by seemingly apologizing for their feature's mediocracy: "His remarks were delivered in so quiet a voice, the members of the national media crowded their way through kids to get close enough to hear." I see this as a euphemism for "C'mon guys, we didn't have much material to work with and we were bored. So, we slipped some kid on the jungle gym a twenty to use his small stature and sneak under people's legs and hold our microphones for us while we hit up the bar across the street."

After making kissy faces to the media and important sponsors for a few hours, Bush headed back to the Capitol. Yet, An unspecified meeting delayed Bush's departure from Wichita. The Eagle cites that "a rumor spread that the reason for the delay was that local dignitaries had stepped aboard Air Force One to confer" and that "the delayed departure at the airport showed that Bush had more on his mind than shaking a few hands." The reason for this ambiguity is obvious: Not being a denizen of the area, Bush, while listening to the radio and singing along to "Fergilicious" on the way back to the airport, must heard a Spangles commerical, was aghast at the prices, and immediately summoned Renee Stevens onto Air Force One to ask if she was out of her mind.

Tommorrow: A lengthy Bonnie Bing fashion feature on the President's stolen watch with pictures of the usual awkward-looking models trying to sell knock-off versions.
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Other noteworthy Eagle stories:

In the Opinion Line:
"Does Sedgwick County realize that there are homeless people roaming around the area where it plans to build the arena? What is it going to do about these people when the arena is built?" A press release from the Arena Planning Committee responds: "Well, we'll probably just drop the arena on top of them, everyone knows homeless people are immobile. I mean, what's a guy to do? It's not like we have a homeless shelter or a belief in welfare around these parts."

In Faith and Values:
A rave review about "The Great Secret", a book by Rhonda Byrne. According to Byrne, you can obtain anything you want by simply sending your thoughts out into the universe and the forces of nature will drop everything and kiss your feet: "The law of attraction is giving you what you are thinking about - period!" Well, I don't think I'd spend my three wishes on getting my period more often than necessary, but I try this out immediately after reading the story. While listening to the radio, I will the cosmos to play "Fergilicious" (The single thing the Prez and I agree on) All I get is that one song where the chorus is, quote, "We were in the bed like, oh, oh." It seems like the cosmos is less like an unstoppable force and more like a lacksidasical guard sleeping on job in a security booth, a half-eaten donut resting on his belly, powdered sugar lining his mouth. As it is, I don't think I trust a cosmos with such bad music taste anyways. The story cites many other self-help books, claiming that this "secret" has been handed down for hundreds of years (So that's what the Free Masons have been hiding all these years!). The originator of this essential information remains undisclosed at this time, but rumors abound pointing to the Wizard of Oz, who could not be reached for comment. The small print on the book's copyright page notes that the only great secret of this book is what publisher was idiotic enough to put it to print and how this story is relevant journalism.Tomorrow: B.F. Skinner rises from his grave to yell "Your thoughts don't exist, you hear? They're dead to me!"

In Local and State:
This section reads like "Pleasantville"-like version of the breaking story about the family pet cat stuck in a tree. The feature is an enthusiastic tale about a pet owner reunited after a grueling six-week separation with her lost cat, both who survived the Greensburg tornado. As the Eagle has already pretty much covered every other, important aspect of the Greensburg tornado recovery with their previous story "Will the only one-pump gas station rebuild?" I can understand if they need to explore other avenues. But, really, I think a feature-length story on a woman and her cat is stretching it even in this news-starved region. Diann Rogers, the cat's owner, reported distraughtly wandered around her yard, calling out to her cat to come home the day after the storm (She has obviously read "The Great Secret.") She eventually found her cat in a nearby animal shelter. According to Rogers, throughout the duration of the separation, her cat was thinking "Where's my people? Somebody has got some explaining to do" (The story does not note how the cat acquired such bad grammar or a Lucille Ball accent). Rogers also recounts the reunion in full detail: "I looked in and Bebe said 'Hello!" a meow she misinterpreted from its real meaning: "Do not take me back to that one-horse town hellhole!"
Tomorrow's feature: Couch potato reunited with his Lazy-boy recliner!

Well, that's the news roundup for you. I can't wait until tomorrow's edition.