LAY'D TO REST
Hell, maybe it's just luck.
But whatever the reason, Ladies & Gentlemen, I'm happy to present to you, after a too-long absence, the glorious & long-awaited . . . New York Post Headline of the Day. Beneath pictures of both a coffin and the recently convicted, sentenced, and now deceased, Ken Lay, the Post Headline reads:
Before They Put Cheato Lay's Coffin In The Grave . . . CHECK HE'S IN IT
The Post, baby. Populism trumps Bush & Friends, Inc. every day of the week.
Now I'm not gonna weigh in, as others have, on whether or not Lay's really dead. Maybe Ken's sipping a rum punch on the beach of Vanatu or one of those other island nations where he used to dump his earnings to avoid taxes. Maybe he's deader than the proverbial doornail (anyone know what a doornail is, by the way?). Maybe he took his own life. Who knows . . . and who really cares?
But I think we're going to be hearing tales of Kenny Boy hangin' out in the produce section with Elvis, lurking the streets of Paris with Jim Morrison, wandering the Andean highlands with Hitler, and breaking up scoring plays from the Giant's Stadium endzone with Jimmy Hoffa for years and years to come.