Bill Ayers is a dick, of course, but that doesn’t diminish from the humor of his brief encounter with a dumpy wingnut blogger from Wilmette, Illinois, at a Starbucks stand in DC’s National Airport. The tale is recounted by Anne “The Backyard Conservative” Leary, the blogger herself, and it becomes, in her retelling, a triumph of, well, Mitty-esque proportions.
It all starts innocently enough:
There I was, sitting in Reagan National Monday morning, sipping a Starbucks by the United counter before going through security.
I’m not quite sure how you sip a Starbucks but I suppose it’s somewhat easier than eating an Outback Steakhouse.
I had a little time, so I was browsing through the news. … That’s when I saw Bill Ayers, an instant blight. … I gathered my things, got my camera ready, and snapped a shot right when he got his coffee.
I asked–what are you doing in D.C. Mr. Ayers?
Sadly, he didn’t say “I’m here to get gay-married to Barack Obama,” but appears instead to have hoped that a look of disdain might chase this annoying little pest away.
For a moment I thought he might be on my flight back to Chicago. Charming.
Apparently she’s worried that Ayers cooties will seep throughout the aircraft and that she’ll have to take a Silkwood shower when she gets back to her backyard to get them all off.
I asked him if he was speaking at GW? (Only I said GFW, guess I had the VFW on my mind) He said oh you mean GW, he said no.
I have no clue where Ms. Backyard learned her mad punctuation skillz or concocted the notion that Ayers was speaking at GFW. This was a reference to George Washington University, one of at least five colleges in DC, and not even the most well-known. Apparently GW is the only DC university that Ms. Backyard has ever heard of.
[Y]ou shouldn’t believe everything you hear about me, [Ayers said,] you know nothing about me. I said, I know plenty–I’m from Chicago, a conservative blogger, and I’ll post this.
At this point, after Ms. Backyard revealed that she was, gasp, a conservative blogger and therefore possessed of kerning skills, unparalleled insights, and teh mad superpowerz, Ayers burst into tears, got down on his knees and pleaded with her not to post anything, just to leave him in peace and be on her way. In fact he was so shaken by the mere presence of a “conservative blogger” that he admitted that he was Obama’s ghost writer:
Then, unprompted he said–I wrote Dreams From My Father.
And, if you don’t believe that Ayers said that, well, Ms. Backyard has posted a picture of her boarding pass, which settles the question beyond all doubt. Seriously.
Of course, it never even occurs to Ms. Backyard that she was being played. Even Bob “My BBQ Greeyuhl Got All Smayeshed Up By The Hurrycane” Owens figured this out, which leaves Ms. Backyard in the unenviable position of being one of the three individuals (well, maybe four if you include Clown Hall’s Carol Platt Liebau) in the group of people on the planet dumber than the Confederate Yankee.
- Lifetime cost of a putting up a blog on Blogger: $0.
- Cost of a ticket to National Airport: $200.
- “I said, I know plenty–I’m from Chicago, a conservative blogger, and I’ll post this.” Priceless.
Bonus fun with a particularly dull knife in the wingnutosphere drawer: Someone blogging as Serr8ed examines the EXIF data on Ms. Backyard’s photo to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Ayers claimed authorship of the Obama book.