Good evening Richmond, Virginia! Good to be back! Just got in last night and I got to say: What’s the deal with that airport of yours? I get off the plane, quick walk out the gates, things are going smoothly, the car’s waiting outside, I get to the baggage claim, and…absolutely nothing. I’m waiting. And waiting. And I’m waiting. No sign of the luggage, NO SIGN!
Thirty five minutes pass. I could have called for a pizza, all the toppings, and it would have been there before my Samsonite! Un-be-LIEV-able!
And what is with this heat you got here? This isn’t a heat wave, it’s a heat tsunami! It was so hot that during the 50-foot walk from my limo to the hotel door I thought I saw a mirage of Thomas Jefferson! Come to find out it’s a statue inside the hotel lobby!
Who just sneezed? You there in the front row? You are sooo good lookin’.
So I finally get settled in my room, get my bags down, and yada, yada, yada, I head out for a drink. Pretty city you’ve got, downtown. You Richmonders sure do love that tobacco. Nothing like relieving a little bit of stress by cutting your life short seven minutes at a time. Who was the guy who had this idea? “Hey, let’s take this leaf, dry it out for up to a year, crumble it into tiny pieces, roll it tightly into a small, thin piece of paper, light it on fire, then stick the end of this stick into our mouths and inhale?” Of course, on the flip side, the invention of cigarettes has boded well for the funeral directing and ashtray industries, so we got that going for us, which is JUST GREAT!
That can’t be good for anybody. Speaking of anybody, does anybody have any water? Because these pretzels are making me thirsty!
So have you been to this bar Halligan? Stopped by last night. Have you seen the inside of this place? Have you seen it? All firefighter stuff! There’s a firetruck all the way down the wall! A firetruck! I saw firefighter jackets and firefighter boots and firefighter hats and firefighter patches and firefighter tools and counted 18 firemen eating barbeque and sipping beers. Half the city could have been on fire and they’d have been there drinking pints of Guinness!
“Oh, the city’s burning to the ground? Well, that’s a shame.”
Monument Avenue, great street. Drove down it this morning. Robert E. Lee, the general. Grant, looking good. Arthur Ashe, good to have some diversity there. Oh, and what about this Maury guy? No one knows who he is! And did you ever notice that he’s the only monument, on the avenue, sitting in a chair, under the Earth? Everyone else is up on a horse, or standing tall, or beating small children with a tennis racket. But not Maury. Just sitting there. Reading a book. Probably “Charlotte’s Web.” He’s probably at the part where the spider dies at the fair. Maybe he’s a little sad. But really, what did this guy do? Did Maury invent the Earth? Did he lift it like Atlas? Who was this guy, who was he, tell me who he was, get me a historian, who was this guy, who was he, I need to know, gotta know, must know, somebody please tell me, ANYONE!
Jerry’s getting upset!
And what’s the deal with these mayor candidates you got here? Have you seen this? Have you seen this? Nine mayor candidates? Do you really need nine candidates for mayor? Three more and you’d have enough for the Last Supper! I guess it is comforting to know, however, that they’ll figure out who should be mayor before I get my luggage at the airport!
Thanks a lot! You guys have been great! Cantstandya!