The President Endorses Wiggy

Folks, I want to let you know that I'm deep, deep, in the depths of formulatin' and cogitatin' to present to you the stories, the photos, the events that were your ol' Wigster's Gettysburg vacation. However, I wanted to take just a moment to let you know about this latest trifle that our government has pounced upon.

The New York Times
October 24, 2005
Protecting the Presidential Seal. No Joke.
KATHARINE Q. SEELYE

You might have thought that the White House had enough on its plate late last month, what with its search for a new Supreme Court nominee, the continuing war in Iraq and the C.I.A. leak investigation. But it found time to add another item to its agenda - stopping The Onion, the satirical newspaper, from using the presidential seal.

[snip]

Citing the United States Code, Mr. Dixton wrote that the seal "is not to be used in connection with commercial ventures or products in any way that suggests presidential support or endorsement." Exceptions may be made, he noted, but The Onion had never applied for such an exception.

My little droogies, did you ever hear of 'The Onion'? It's a funny magazine and webzine, I remember it well. Kind of a replacement for the not-funny-anymore National Lampoon magazine, er, website & endorsement/branding machine. Hey, it's a skewer to the eyeball of the pompous, and who doesn't need that from time to time?

Well, The Onion crossed the line recently. At least, according to The White House. Apparently, they used the Presidential Seal without permission or some such nonsense, in a manner that the White House believes implies that the Office of the President supports The Onion or endorses their policies. Yeah, their policy of taking themselves too seriously, I guess.

And believe me, if there was ever an administration that took itself too seriously, it is all of them. Each and every one.

So this is as much to President Bush and the White House Staff as it is to Wiggy's Loyal Minions (all three of them):

The Presidential Seal - from the Department of Who's Your Daddy - does not belong to the President. Hey, goofballs in the White House - it belongs to ME.

Me and 296 million other Joe and Jill Sisyphus. It's OUR Presidential Seal. Hell, it's OUR White House, dadnabit. We just let you stay there. And try not to mess the place up, huh? We have to pay to have the carpets cleaned after you leave.

Besides, President Bush - you danced on the freaking thing. There's some respect, let me tell you.

Not to mention tacky. Tacky, tacky, tacky. Does your toilet lid play "Hail to the Chief" when you flip it up? That's the kind of tacky this is.

In case you hadn't noticed, you can buy Presidential Seal ashtrays, dinner plates, macrame wall hangings, carpets, bumper stickers, baseball caps, and so on. I'm sure that Presidential Seal urinal cakes are big sellers in some parts of the world. The Presidential Seal is a symbol, but like the flag, it ain't no big deal in and of itself. In fact, all the Presidential Seal represents is the office, which we hold in respect. And the man or woman who is President inherits that respect for the period of time he or she is in office. It's borrowed, bub. Borrowed from us. Your bosses.

So knock off with the crybaby routine over The Onion lampooning you, Mister President. I voted for ya, couldn't stand that other whiner. Don't tell me you're gonna start squirtin' tears as well.

To test my theory that this symbol is MINE (and all citizens') and not President Bush's, I've decided to flout the law. So here goes. Ever buddy ready? Ahem:

Hey, ever buddy! President Bush is endorsing this website! See the Presidental Seal? That means he read this website and he said "Hey, that Wiggy is one cool dude. I think the world should know that I approve." Really, he said it!

I now await my imminent arrest and deportation to Gitmo. A state of wretchedness not to be missed. Nice knowing y'all.

Smooches,

Wigwam "Huddled Masses" Jones

Vacation For The Wigster...

Checking in from the road, my little droogies...

Mrs. Wiggy and I felt we needed a little downtime, so we have met up with our friends the Tweedles and taken ourselves off to the wilds of Pennsylvania. At the moment, I am writing this from Hershey. Tomorrow, we'll be moving down to Gettysburg.





We spent the day exploring the Hershey complex, and let me tell you, it was interesting. I was frankly expecting the usual kind of sad corporate themepark and crap-o-rama that usually characterize the 'tours' of said companies - this was not the case. Yes, it's shiny and glitzy and corporate, but they have behaved with a modicum of common sense - a bit light on the sales aspect and a bit heavy on the history of their beloved company and founder.





Turns out that their founder, Milton S. Hershey, was a pretty neat guy all around. His history is on the link above (click on the title of this blog entry), and it does not go into explaining all that we learned on our tour today.

Hey, I'm a pretty jaded guy in general - and I'm not that keen on corporate snoggery and fimfamfoolery, either. This guy was the real deal - the Wigster is impressed. You should see the school that they maintain for the kids they support. The homes they live in. The money shelled out on the corporate town. Yeah, it's a company town - but not like any I've ever seen.

My buddy, Milcom Miasma, mentioned that they don't make corporate tycoons like Milton anymore. Bill Gates, with all his billions, isn't anything like Mr. Hershey. And you know, Hershey would be skinned alive by somebody like Donald Trump in today's world - he wouldn't last a minute. More's the pity - we need some like Milton S. Hershey today.

We took the trolley tour around the town - I recommend it, but then take your car and drive around again, so you can stop and get out and take photos. But the trolley tour gives you some great explanations and puts some meaning to the places you see. Plus, they hand out chocolate.





Here's a shot of the town and factory and theme park (yes, they have a theme park) as seen from Hershey Gardens...





We may have gotten a little too much enjoyment from pleasures meant for children, but what of it? Here's your Wigster and Mrs. Wigster taking a moment...we're butterflies...





Milcom Miasma (a Tweedle) was confused and dopey after an encounter with the steam-puffing Hershey's Kisses. OK, he was confused and dopey before that, too. But still.





Mrs. Tweedle danced with a pig. Then I took this picture of her dancing with a four legged creature instead of Milcom Miasma.





That's it for now, will post more later if possible. We're off tomorrow morning to Lancaster County, and from there down to Gettysburg, where we have a couple of rooms at a B&B on the battlefield. Should be fun!

Hershey Kisses,

Wiggy