Howdy, neighbor: Well, it looks like Buzz is going to have to find a new place to bike ride. The Bushes, W. and Laura, are moving into our 'hood. OK, not exactly our neighborhood, but in the same ZIP code and four miles to the east, in an area where on warm spring weekends we like to ride with the lovely Mrs. Buzz and gawk at all the rich people's homes.
But we'll just have to skip the tony streets now—because of added traffic and the fear of flaming death from angry jihadists. The wife, a lapsed Catholic but devout Obama-ite, is not particularly happy about this and had plenty to say upon hearing she'll be sharing even a ZIP—75229, and it's a big one—with the Bushes. (We've edited her comments some, to spare her embarrassment.) "Mother [deleted], can you believe that [deleted] [deleted] is moving into our [deleted] ZIP code? Why can't that [deleted] go somewhere the [deleted] else?"
Note to the Secret Service: If you see a woman's backside with the words "War Criminal" or "Universal Health Care Now" scrawled across it, shooting the moon outside 10141 Daria Place, please don't shoot back. She's harmless. Not—heh, heh—that one could actually fit the plea for universal health care on there, except in really, really tiny type.
Oh, man. Buzz is so dead.
Perot, Cuban, Hicks and now Bush are all family names along the streets an easy ride from our house, though closer to Buzz's joint the names tend to have a lot more vowels tacked onto the end, and the home values are less than a 10th of the value of the Bushes' new home. Oddly, though, we see tons of people who look like our neighbors along the fancier streets.
They're usually tending the flower beds.
But, hey, we're all part of the multi-hued pageant that is Dallas, right, George and Laura? So ignore Mrs. Buzz and the unnamed woman who lives nearer your new home who told The Wall Street Journal that she fears now "the whole neighborhood is going to be a target." We're really very friendly up in the 29. We suggest Laura check out Magic Comb Blue Mousse Hair Co. at Marsh and Walnut Hill for a coif—they give great pedicures, we hear. You can visit the new carnicería and grocery across the street for all your chorizo-buying needs. Be sure and slip lawnmower guy, the homeless man who hangs out with his dog between the CVS and Jack in the Box during summer, a buck, would ya? Times are hard, as you may have heard.
