Me, Teddy, and a couple of sailor suits

Ohh, and this, from the Star-Telegram, via Wonkette. Cindy Sheehan, former respected protester, now batshit-crazy protester, has used some of the insurance money from her soldier son’s death to buy some land in Crawford, Texas. I guess she's planning on camping out by his home for another month this year, demanding a meeting with the president, and protesting the something-or-other in the Middle East. Now, instead of being homeless, she and her protester friends can gather at her spread for gin and tonics before they try to chase down the president on his mountain bike.

I remember when I was a boy, I tried to convince my parents to get a place on Cape Cod, right in the neighborhood of the Kennedy Compound. This wasn’t because the Kennedys had given me any great excuse to thrust myself into the fulfilling spotlight of national media, but more because that’s where I figured the good parties were at.

Just as Wonkette now refers to the President and Sheehan as fake ranch owners, I could have been a fake yacht club member. While prevented from actually yachting by lack of a yacht, zero sailing experience, and crippling fear of sharks, I could have taken advantage of sumptuous raw bars, the remarkably awesome yacht club fashion choices, and the company of wonderful, wonderful, wealthy people. Also, I can already talk like a Kennedy, so I was halfway to fully integrating myself into Hyannisport society.