O goat-foot God of Arcady!
This modern world is gray and old,
And what remains to us of thee?....
Then blow some trumpet loud and free,
And give thine oaten pipe away,
Ah, leave the hills of Arcady !
This modern world hath need of thee!—Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
Bill Ayers has earned his pension, his fixed-income that will league-up with the fixed-income his Pappy built up for him as well as the UICC sinecure, after Pap Ayers padded Stanley Ikenberry's palm.
Twenty years, and now the Golden Years, I can see it now!
Having put aside his sword and buckler as a world-wide Revolutionary Bill Ayers takes up "Me-Time"
He arises at 8:45 AM and smokes a Marlboro Lite with his white legs planted over the bed and hacks up a few loogies into a Kleenex, snuffs out the half smoked ciggie and heads out to the organic garden in back of his stately Hyde Park mansion for an eye-opening Doobie.
The day looks sunny and bright. In his running shorts and Bolivar T-shirt he heads back into the kitchen for a Coors Tall Boy! Breakfast of Champions!
Bernardine is showering and gussying up for the trip to NIU Law on LSD, where she will continue to undermine American Law with policy and agitate more left leaning lawyers to do her bidding.
Bill takes his wallet and makes sure that the ATM card is still there and puts on the same wrinked chinos that he wore all week. Off to The I-Opener's Pub at 53rd & Cornell. It is a pleasant walk that will eat up the time necessary to meet the opening bartender around back. And there he is right on time 9:57 AM!
"I can let you in Professor, but no toddies until opening bell! You know the drill. Hey, that cut on your forehead still hasn't healed, . . .." offers the solicitous tapman only to have the Distinguished Professor Emeritus grunt and wave off his concerns. Ayers is jonesing for the Joker Poker.
In this dark and desperate den of solitary men, Bill Ayers shuffles to the bonus points packed machine and rolls in the first of many twenty dollar bills. The pop and whiz of eletrical gambling sends a tingle up both thighs of the Unrepentant Bomber! This is what it is all about!
"Ten O'clock, Doc! Here's Lunch - One bucket of Domestics, and iced like Tamron Hall! Drink hearty Doc!" the happy draughtsman announces.
Bill Ayers lights up another Marlboro, hits maximum bet button and stares into the pull of the alluring screen, "Great! "You need to find a way to live your life, that it doesn't make a mockery of your values." Ayers did not fill the gut-shot straight - Dang! Three more Jacksons are fed into the computerized capitalist horn of plenty.
The Distinguished Professor Emeritus will remain fixed at the machine, interrupted only by trips to the Gents and the always handy ATM machine, until the cab arrives for him around 7PM.
Down, all his days!
Yesirre-Bob! "You need to find a way to live your life, that it doesn't make a mockery of your values." Bill Ayers!