So whatever happened to the title of President? Nobody addresses the actual President using the title. Rather, it's "Mr. Bush".
Does this situation imply that the title "Mr. President" is no longer spoken for and I can simply steal it to advance my own social standing at cocktail parties? While moving up the political ladder, I will be accompanied by a Marylin Monroe impersonator with a 5 o'clock shadow who will sing " Happy birthday Mr. President". It's all part of the master plan to walk gallantly in reverse across the White House lawn, past security, and assume permanent residence.
Speaking of Presidents, I kind of miss the iconic President Nixon, mostly for his riotous piano playing. I've made the pilgrimage to the Nixon museum in Loma Linda. It's built on a lot connected to the house where the guy grew up. The museum also has Dick & Pat's final resting place in the back yard, which is sort of unsettling as it catches you off guard with a frozen stare and a mouthful of milk duds.
Likewise, one day people will tour the homestead of my youth to fawn over my legacy. All the original rooms will be set up as exhibits behind a velvet rope. And now, dear friends, I present an exclusive Bloggy-Blog preview, featuring painstakingly preserved artifacts inside the actual log cabin of my birth!