BILL: So I'll bet you're going to be liveblogging the big John Kline Meets the "Constituents" Town Hall Forum tonight, right Foot?
LEARNEDFOOT: Oh hell no. Moonbats give me gas.
BILL: Well we have to send someone to "cover" it. There promises to be much KAR-worthy material, if prior events are any indication...
LF: Indeed. Hey - I know: why don't you go?
BILL: Nope. No can do. I've got plans.
LF: What plans?
BILL: Well, first, I'm going to decorate a pie. Then, Mrs. Bill and I are going to snuggle on the couch and watch American Idol.
LF: Oh, fercryinoutloud.
BILL: What about the Head of Alfredo Garcia?
LF: I talked to him earlier. He's washing his kilt tonight.
BILL: Well somebody's gotta go there and chronicle all the moonbattery.
DEMENTEE: DID SOMEONE SAY "MOONBAT"???????!!!!!!!!
LF: Um, I don't think that -
DEM: TELL ME WHERE TO LIVEBLOG MOONBAT!!!!!! ME HUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNGGGGGGRRRRRRRYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!
BILL: Oh, we cannot send him....
LF: Yeah, we'd have blood on our hands....
DEM: OH PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SEND DEMENTEE!!!!!! ME PROMISE TO BE GOOD!!!!!! PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR ON TOP????!!!!!!!!
BILL: I'm afraid not D.
[Dementee stomps away]
LF: We have to send someone.
BILL: What about Joe Tucci?
BILL: Do you think we can find him?
LF: Yeah. I've got his digits.
BILL: But I thought he was in the Witness Protection Program.
LF: Well, kind of. It was a self-imposed Witness Protection Program.
BILL: I don't understand.
LF: With the precipitous decline in organized crime, he was having trouble getting "connected." It didn't help that there's like -what? - four Italians in the entire state of Minnesota. So, lacking any legitimate means to get mobbed up, and thus establish his bona fides as a tough guy, Tucci decided to go underground and tell anyone who asked - and pretty much anyone who didn't ask - that he was in the WPP.
BILL: How incredibly sad.
LF: Yes. But now that you mention it, he might like doing this sorta thing. Get me Joe Tucci on the phone!
BILL: Er, you're the one who has his number.
LF: Indeed! [Picks up receiver and dials]
[Joe Tucci answers his phone wearing a gravy-stained wifebeater t-shirt and no pants]
JOE TUCCI: Joe Tuc- er - Joe Tutankhamen here.
LF: Tucci! It's Foot.
JOE TUCCI: Foot! Long time, no see man! How you doin'?
LF: I'm good. How you doin'?
JOE TUCCI: I'm good. How you doin'?
LF: As much as I'd like this call to become an old Bud Light commercial, I'm afraid we've got rather pressing business.
JOE TUCCI: Oh really? Who do you want taken out?
JOE TUCCI: Damn!
LF: We need you to liveblog the John Kline town hall meeting tonight. There's likely to be a high self-righteous moonbat presence there, and KAR - er - the "family" needs you to make fun of them.
JOE TUCCI: You want me to whack any of these moonbats that get all nutty?
LF: No. There will be no whacking. [stifles giggle] That won't be necessary. Just listen to what the moonbats say, and then ridicule it on KAR. You will be doing us - the "family" - a great service.
JOE TUCCI: Got it. I'm in. What's next?
LF: After you get off the phone with me check your e-mail. There will be a Blogger invite, and directions on how to get in touch with your contact: Kevin "the Cockleburr" Ecker. He will transport you to the site, and provide you with a laptop. Any questions?
JOE TUCCI: Nope. Just happy to help out the family.
LF: If you succeed, maybe will look into having you "straightened out".
JOE TUCCI: Really? Wow. Thanks.
LF: Just don't fuck it up.
JOE TUCCI: You can count on me boss.
LF: Goodbye. You never talked to me.
BILL: He in?
LF: He's in.
BILL: Then, God help us.