Lisa: “Grandpa, didn’t you wonder why you were getting paid for doing absolutely nothing?”
Grandpa: “I figure it was because the Democrats were in power again?”
– “The Simpsons”

WASHINGTON – Every four years since 1789, the leaders of Earth’s oldest constitutional republic gather in the capital to celebrate the peaceful, legal transfer of executive power from one person to another, from one political party to another. Through war, depression, insurrection and rebellion, the tradition has continued as an elegant statement of man’s capability for self-governance.

The president’s inauguration ceremony is also an exhibition of hubris, arrogance, bitterness, schaudenfreude, anger and low-simmering violence.

And cold. Freezing, freezing cold.

The 55th Presidential Inauguration was George W. Bush’s second. Given the … contentious nature of his first term, it was certain that many of his fellow citizens would descend upon D.C. to protest like locusts swarming across pharaoh’s Egypt.

Despite the cold temperatures and smelly, smelly protestors, two companions and I trekked from northern Virginia (via the regional subway system) to the west face of the Capitol. Aside from the aforementioned disagreeable elements and dissatisfied citizens, the greatest obstacle was security agencies deployed as tight as a porn star’s condom.

Zubaz Pants Rule #1: never miss an opportunity to draw an inappropriate analogy or pop culture reference.

Subway stations closed. Streets closed. No fly zone extended as far as Baltimore airport. The parade route was lined three deep with volunteer police officers from around the country. Behind them was a line of Air Force members in dress uniform. Al Qaeda couldn’t penetrate this. Cobra couldn’t penetrate this. The Predator would give up out of frustration (See Zubaz Pants Rule #1).

The tickets, provided graciously by the office of Rep. Louise Slaughter (D-Planned Parenthood), instructed those in the Yellow section to exit the Metro system at Federal Center SW, near the Department of Health and Human Services (Motto: “Could you at least try a rice cake?”).

Unfortunately, Metro and DC police practice faith-based crowd control – faith that the projected numbers of attendees would be lower than projected. How else could one explain the 30 minutes it took to exit the station due to the crush of people? The free-for-all, survival of the fittest spectacle was certainly befitting a Republican inauguration.

Mom: “Bill, what happened to little Buffy?”
Dad: “She fell off the platform. She was weak. Onward!”

After finally getting above ground, we discovered our line to pass through security wrapped itself around the HHS building, defying all known laws of waiting line physics by having two tails. It was like KISS opening for the Rolling Stones with a special appearance by a reunited Guns n’ Roses. Or something like that. I’m a Republican, what do I know about cool?

Perhaps the most intimidating aspect of the security blanket (har, har) were the spotter/sniper teams on the rooftops of every building flanking the National Mall and the Pennsylvania Avenue parade route. Reaching into your breast pocket for a tissue was never more dangerous.

Finally, we decided to go through a checkpoint two blocks away, but with a smaller security line. Scaffolding holding television cameras obscured our Third Street view of the dais. Our distance from the Capitol made the dignitaries appear to be nothing more than self-important specks of flotsam. Flotsam that controls a trillion dollar budget.

The giant television screen to our left projected the ceremony. Most distracting was Chief Justice William Rehnquist’s Vader-like breathing apparatus wheezing as he administered the oath to the president. Apparently, some asshats started shouting and blah, blah, blahing as the president recited his oath. Somebody should do the same at their weddings (or life partner ceremonies).

What’s most remarkable about the president’s speech is how unremarkable it seems. What other policy could or should the United States practice except the encouragement of democracy and opposition to tyrannical governments? Of course, there will be times this ideal is compromised. Sure, execution might be only 50 percent, but isn’t that better than zero? We’ve come along way from neighborhood watch programs and school uniforms.

Some commentators noted how quiet the crowd was, that they didn’t clap. Well, it’s hard to clap loudly through gloves while your blood freezes like the Niagara River in January.

What made the day most interesting was post-inauguration parade, or rather, those attending the parade.

The security set up herded spectators towards Pennsylvania Avenue for the parade. On the corner was a group of about half a dozen protestors with signs that said “God hates fags,” and some that said God caused the South Asian tsunami as well as Sept. 11. While others were yelling things like “Fuck you!” I tried to elevate the dialogue.

“Does God hate the Miami Dolphins?” I asked one girl while wearing my Buffalo Bills ball cap. She just smiled.

“Well, what about Ben Roethlisberger?” I figured his performance against the New York Jets was evidence of God’s displeasure.

I didn’t get an answer to that either.

We ended up at the corner of 6th Street and Pennsylvania, mainly because if we tried to go any farther, we’d end up outside the security cordon. That location just happened to be where conservative group protestwarrior.com set up their efforts. Their presence did not go unnoticed.

One desiccated husk of a protestor, quite unprovoked, started shrieking, “Why don’t you kill more Iraqis for Christ!?” I could imply that this shrew of a woman has dehydrated apricots where her reproductive organs once existed. But I won’t stoop to that level. No sir.

The president was unusually tardy for his parade, dallying around the Capitol. So we waited and waited and froze and froze. One ass started yelling at some kids holding their protest signs. These kids seemed like they’d be just as happy watching Carmen Electra wash a convertible as protest the president. But this guy interpreted their presence as threatening to expose his small penis while destroying the president’s nascent second term. Jerk.

As 2 p.m. (the time the parade was supposed to start) edged closer to 3 p.m. we ducked inside a little coffee shop to grab food and ward off hypothermia. While inside, we met a young protestor from Boston. He was of Lebanese decent and radical mindset. He carried a checkered scarf favored as a symbol of Islamic terrorists in the Middle East. Admittedly, he seemed to pay more attention to shaping his sideburns (a la N’ Sync), than being a radical.

“Isn’t the inauguration at 2 p.m.” he asked around 2:30 p.m.

No, it’s at noon, as prescribed by the, you know, Constitution. Heard of it?

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully for us. The president and vice president drove by in their personal tanks disguised as limousines. Self-proclaiming “anarchists” attacked police lines elsewhere in the city, but otherwise things went smoothly.

Hopefully, that will be descriptive of the president’s second term.

But I doubt it.

Questions? Comments? E-mail me at mlucinski@yahoo.com