I AM NOT A CROOK

Day 17,805 on this planet. It's 5:51 am, clear out and 54 degrees F. The sesquipedalian got up, then went back to sleep with Junior.

The fourth President I saw during the early days was Richard Milhouse Nixon, a Quaker, and a brilliant weirdo. I shook his hand in St. Petersburg, at the Airport; there was a small contingent of people there to greet him. He had sunk to the bottom of his political career. Defeated for President and defeated for Governor of California, everybody had given up on him, but not us. He was a short dude with an enormous head. He was the first president whose hand I shook, and he would have gone down in history as one of the best, had it not been for a few bad decisions regarding trying to cover up Watergate. Had Clinton been president in Nixons's time, he would not only have been impeached, he would have been removed from office and ridden out of town on a rail, tarred and feathered. Such does the mores and culture of a great civilization decline into the muck of Godlessness on the downhill curve of the cycle... Thus it is, ever. -30-