DemoCarazzi at Work
OK, this is getting weird. Two PaCarazzi sightings in two days. I ought to get out less.
Today's episode: After voting at the local elementary school last night at 7 or so, I was leaning against an ornamental haystack in the parking lot trying to look up something with my new web cell phone when a midnight blue Mercedes CLS500 with Nevada plates pulled up. (Funny how the fancy new Mercedes looks like a Sebring. So much for DaimlerChrysler synergy.) A tall black man jumped out of the passenger seat, said, "Hey, fellas!" to my friend Peter and me, and walked jauntily into the polling place. Peter said, "That's what's his name ... Forrest, uh --"
A minute later, a leggy woman unfolded herself from the driver's seat and followed him into the building. Peter and I made some further astute comments, all of which escape me at this moment.
I can just hear you now: Is that Mercedes really fancy enough for PaCarazzi? Hey, close enough. You want fancy cars, you send me a story
, wiseguy. Meanwhile, and more important, now we know that Mr. Forrest Whitaker votes. Bravo!