Or Three Strikes and
was one of those times when you know you're witnessing history. The first
night in Memphis our Fearless Leader stalked the bar with all the cunning
of a jungle cat and slithered up beside his prey almost unnoticed. The
charm was flowing. Jokes, laughter, smiles, it was like a work of art watching
the master work. But something was wrong. It was an illusive prey. The
charm rolled off like water of the back of a duck. The laughter subsided
and it was painfully aware that nothing was working. Suddenly The Fearless
Leader turned and said "are you ready to go?". Strategic retreat of course.
Next night, pageant night, and there's the bartender. It goes like this
smile, tip, tip, tip, laugh, tip, tip, tip, joke, tip, tip, tip, flirt,
tip, tip, tip, smile some more, tip, tip, tip, laugh some more, tip, tip,
tip, flirt some more, tip, tip, tip. And the result? Nothing! STRIKE TWO!
Later same night out on the patio. Cool breezes and a few beers later.
Surely The Fearless Leader will score this time. A last ditch home run.
And the charm goes into high gear. Working, Working, Working. and for a
while it seems to be working. But alas the prey slips away to the powder
room and never returns. STRIKE THREE!
Is it the end of an era? Has The Fearless Leader lost his touch? Only time
will tell. But this we know. Today there is no joy on the Mud Hill for
The Fearless Leader has Struck out!