Lord Kerry Fauntleroy of New England has lived the high life with the money plundered from the Heinz heirs so long that he does not understand anyone outside of the country club. His tone-deaf outlook was apparent during his campaign when he was putting on that weird bunny/astronaut suit just days before the election when he wasn’t donning a rubber unitard and windsurfing rather than campaigning. The tanning bed is frying his brain cells.
The spring after his great loss, I was driving through Stanley, ID and saw Lord Kerry. On a turnout by the river, he was standing, in his black leathers, using a hairbrush to fix his do. There were three beefy gentlemen with him. One was holding a black helmet as Kerry brushed. The other two were loading a fancy Italian touring motorcycle into an enclosed trailer behind a dark-windowed Suburban. Obviously, Kerry had ridden the bike over Galena Summit to Stanley from his wife’s house in Sun Valley, about 50 miles. And obviously, he had three goons follow him in case of trouble, and he was not going to ride back the way he came.