SECRET SERVICE AND THE SUGAR PLUMB FAIRY

Well, if they can do it, why can't I?

With that reasoning, I got all dressed up in a fancy Buster Crab business suit and headed for the side door at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. When I reached the gate, Secret Service came out of its little caddy shack and asked me what I wanted.

"I'm here to see the President," I replied.

"What's your name. Let me see your I.D. Do you have an appointment?"

"List," I answered, as I handed him eight S&H Green Stamps sealed in plastic. "I don't need an appointment."

His furrowed eyebrows raised, "First name?"

"End of."

"Endof?"

"Yes, End of. I contributed $10 million to the President's election campaign, and he's invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner with the family."

"Ahh, yes. Here's your name at the bottom of the sheet. Just pull up to the side door and the officer there will escort you in."

At the side door, the officer said, "They told me you were coming, Mr. List, and I had to go all of the way to the bottom of the sheet to find your name. It's out of order. What until I straighten out Rambo on Monday about this inefficiency. Follow me in, I'll take you upstairs."

We went down a long hallway to where a military type was sitting outside a door. He must have been to the beach. "Redneck," I observed.

He immediately opened the satchel that was by his side. "Turkey Dinner," he muttered, as the blood drained from his face.

"Baked potatoes?" I asked.

"Oh, my God! What do I do next?"

"Nuke Iran," I was kidding.

As the officer ushered me in, I could hear the guy at the door saying to someone on the red phone in the satchel, " I KNOW he doesn't look like the President, but he had the codes, man!"

And there he was, the President in all of his glory, decked out in a genuine Martha Stewart designer bathrobe and waiting to greet me. "Hiya there, Mr. List! I really want to thank you for your campaign donations. Glad to have you over for dinner. Maybe we should start by having a beer out on the lawn?"

"No, thank you Mr. President. There's too many cops and professors out there at the picnic table. Anyway, aren't you worried about your Secret Service guys? I mean, with all of the news about the party crashers and everything?"

To which he responded...