This week's Very Special Schadenfreude comes from Mr. Sean Carrie of Montreal, QC:
Pretty much everyone in the DuPont Circle Chipotle franchise is staring in the direction of where the good Dr. Kissinger is presently consuming what the counter staff later confirm is a Carnitas Burrito "with everything except sour cream." Even the younger, less-educated-looking clientele are at least aware that this is a Washington personage of some high stature, and are consequently looking just as baffled as are their more clued-in elders as to why the wavy-haired guy in the natty suit is wolfing down a fast-food tex-mex meal at a ground-steel table instead of nibbling in a delicate manner, on something that costs way more than five bucks, at one of the District's -- even DuPont's -- more tony establishments.This has been your Monday Schadenfreude.
Ol' Hank is pretty much oblivious though. I mean, he's entitled to eat where he pleases, isn't he? Hasn't he done enough starry-stripey stuff to merit the opportunity to have a bite with the salt of the U.S.eArth from time to time? And he's secure enough in this idea to ignore the stares...
Until such time as the pinto beans and salsa have worked their way, and pretty quickly, mind you, through his gut and out his Germanic rectum in an angry, tympanic salute to the cuisine of the Rio Grande. Which sends the breathless assembled into fits of laughter. A couple of Georgetown students pull out their cell phones and start spreading the word: "Fucking Kissinger farted! Tell Tammy! And Tell Rory!" Even the heretofore oblivious Japanese tourists in the corner are tittering politely, hands held delicately in front of widening smiles.
Dr. K. crumples the foil burrito wrapper and slams it down on the table like so many cluster bombs on Laos. Flushing, he makes briskly for the door and, once out on Connecticut, is seen to break into a run towards a waiting