CONSUMPTION BLOG

Dear Consumptives – the following fond remembrance of Daniel ‘Dany Boy’ Inouye, Senator, War Hero and Dead Man was submitted anonymously by an old friend who I once knew as The Minister of Tolerance.

Mortuum Flagellas, Mea Culpa,   Danny Boy, Senator

Senator Danny Inouye; a Remembranc

by The Minister of Tolerance

Following the most timely demise of our U.S. Senate President Pro Tempore, I was asked to recall my fondest memory of the senior Senator from our westernmost colony. Thought I’d share it with you:

The year was 1993. I, a lowly page for the House of Representatives was carrying a whole bunch of boxes over to one of the Senate office buildings, because, as you may know, Senate pages are far too busy filling water glasses and taking naps to perform physical work. Said boxes were probably heavy and certainly unwieldy, as I expect they contained the budget books. (Flashback:  Those were the OBRA years, halcyon days in which Congress actually managed to pass Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Acts for the entire government! All at once! Every year, no less! They were contained in ridiculously long green-covered tomes from the Government Printing Office that had to be distributed — one per office — throughout the Capitol Complex.)

So anyhoo, here I am, minding my own business, not doing anything too important (just ensuring the continuity of government in the capital of the free world; y’know, nothing major), struggling with all that stuff. I took a bit of a shortcut by riding the subway over to the office complex belonging to Congress’ Elderly Chamber (that is, the Senate). Standing up in the train, I peered over the glass to ensure nobody was coming (those were the old trains, before the Spendthrift Chamber — that is, the Senate — blew all sorts of money on unnecessary robot shuttles), and proceeded to step off with the intent to make my way upstairs.

Contemporaneously, and unbeknownst to me, an old guy from Hawaii was walking around with a bunch of his yes-men, no doubt plotting evil. I have no proof that said evil involved something about making sure that the intern from Indonesia would be able to deliver said Senator’s eulogy in the next century:

“But, sir, we’ll never get Barry Soetoro elected! His name sounds too much like Suharto! Besides, his mother is a… well, let’s just say her name is Stan.”

“Silence, you fool! Just use your last name on the phony birth certificate!”

“But… but… sir, I’m Irish! Nobody will believe his name is O’Bama!”

“Didn’t I tell you to be silent, fool? Haven’t you ever heard of the black Irish?! Now do it before I strike you down with my Hattori Hanzo steel!”

Anyhoo, while the gentleman from Hawaii (state motto: “It’s spelled Hawai’i, dipshit!”) was tossing rude epithets toward his yes-man, said member of the Senior Politicians’ Tour Chamber — that is, the Senate — charged ahead onto the train, specifically in my direction, as fast as his legs could carry him… ultimately slamming full-on into the stack of boxes that poor li’l ol’ me was attempting to lug.

Now, I’m no expert in Newtonian physics, but I know he was doing some kind of evil that violated natural law, because the force apparently acted upon HIM and not me, almost as though I were the one not watching where I was going — which, as you know, is quite impossible.

So at that point, Sen. In-No-Way slammed into the boxes I was carrying, which caused him to tip backwards and nearly fall on his senatorial keister.

It made a noise not unlike *THUD!*, to which the senator replied, “Oof!”

Fortunately for the member of that most august Near-Death Chamber — that is, the Senate — his yes-man was standing directly in line with said keister, absorbing the impact and ensuring that our first Japanese-American Senator remained upright.

Nevertheless, the gentleman from you-know-where had a touch of trouble stabilizing himself, as the spot where the boxes hit was unusual, as it was missing an arm.

Oops.

All I remember was ensuring my ID and nametag was covered up as I hightailed it out of there.

The moral of this story? None, except that we can prove that the senior Senior from the Five-Oh state has (had) no sense of humor, because — at no point — and in no way — (get it? In no way? Inouye? Ha! I kill me!) — in no way did he say, “Nyuk nyuk nyuk.”