Binoculars Here in Peep Town
My circus adventures in the midst of San Francisco's criminal mob of homosexual Peeping Toms

Click on any adventure

Welcome to Peep Town

The Postal So-called Police
Captain Chappaquiddick
Faggy Boys Inc.
Our Elected Representatives
A Peepie Primer

Robert the Pervert
The Three Stooges
I Telephone the President
An Arrest?

How the Peepies Enforce
  Mob Rule

Considering a Career?
Senator Couldnthelp
Life in the Circus

A Love Letter
Hal the Pig
American President Lines
The Cable Guy

Hard Work Pays Off
A Visit from the Plumber
Freaky Me
The Casting Couch
Peep Town Now



I Telephone the President

Antique telephone Have you ever gotten so worked up about something that you felt like calling the president and telling him about it? Have you ever wondered what would happen if you did?

I got so frustrated trying to deal with various members of Congress that I decided to call the president directly. FBI agents were working for a local mob of Peeping Toms. The FBI director reports to the president. My game plan was simple. I'd introduce myself, explain the situation, and ask him to kick FBI's butt in the direction of cleaning up its act. After all, the president is "Mister" and so am I, aren't we?

One afternoon, madder than hell, I picked up the phone, dialed Information, and got the White House phone number. I called it and an operator answered. I asked to speak to President Clinton.

"One moment, please...."

A man came on the line. "Department of Long, Drawn Out Bureaucratic Nomenclature,"   he announced. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I'd like to speak to President Clinton, please."

"What is this regarding?"

"FBI corruption."

"Can I have your name?"

I told him.

"And your address?"

I gave it to him.

"Your phone number, please?"

I recited it.

"So you're calling long distance."


With sincere concern in his voice, he said, "I'm going to transfer you to the Longer, More Drawn Out Bureaucratic Nomenclature Department."

"Thank you."

After a short wait a second male voice came on the line. "Department of Longer, More Drawn Out Bureaucratic Nomenclature,"   he announced. "Can I help you?"

We repeated the previous conversation. He requested the same information and confirmed that I was calling long distance. Then he transferred me again, this time to the Department of Even Longer, Even More Drawn Out Bureaucratic Nomenclature.

A third male voice came on the line. You can guess the rest.

Each time I was transferred, it was to a "department" with a name even longer and more ridiculous than the preceding one. The operators must have been inventing the names as they went along and laughing to themselves. With each transfer I was asked if I was calling long distance. Apparently they were trying to get rid of me by reminding me I was running up charges.

At first I thought I was actually being transferred to an appropriate government agency. After several successive transfers, the light began to dawn. After fifteen minutes of this, I was pretty darn sure I understood what was happening, but I gave it another five minutes just to make certain.

After twenty minutes I hung up. I probably won't be calling back anytime soon.

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