The Bactorium's impressed. Tim says "Let's not rest.

We can expect a huge increase in traffic. A

lot of organizing needs to be done," Timmy pleads,

"before it succeeds, before everyone reads

about bacteria." Lum mumbles, "Or is it Africa?"

"And it ain't begun peakin'. My press team is freakin'.

Nine hundred calls just from Malaysia!

Elbania, Estania, Lithoania, Tamzania,

Patagania, Mauritania, some place called Tasmania,

which I think is down south. Maybe Asia?"

Lum can't repress a big grin. "Tim," he says,

"Mr Chairman, didn't know you had it in ya.

From Rome, France to Algeria they're talkin' bacteria.

In some town called Liberia they hear ya, and Nigeria.

We got Canadian clubs in Canadia, and the same in Argentinia!

"T-shirts, that's awesome!" says freckle-faced Winsome

(who finds Tim particularly handsome).

"How many will I order?" she asks the reporter.

Tim looks over toward her; gives her a panic disorder:

"Fifty million, winsome Winnie. And then some."

"... if I rightly remember, a lot of the members

of the eight online forums are asking

for T-shirts and stickers. And our java applet ticker,

we must make it quicker and get rid of the flicker."

Lum grins. He loves Tim's multitasking.

"Right. Meeting's in order," says Lum's young reporter.

"Looks like we're all here. It's a quorum."

The weekly staff-meet. Says Lum, "Tim's in the seat."

(He doesn't mean seat but the team is discreet.

Another job requirement.) Says Tim, "OK, about the forum ...

but there are other criteria. Like a feel for bacteria.

If you've got this, the job's in your pocket.

Like Lum always says, "You don't need to be Prez,

or a genius," he says. "Don't need no headdress,

if you're bacterioid. Job's yours if you grok it.")

"Should be 'terminatorious'." The team's now uproarious,

Tim and Irving and everyone laughing.

"So now Drudge's intellectual. But his judgement's ineffectual.

So Shakespearean! Just check, y'all, he mentions the team and henpecks you all."

(Sense of humor's a criterion in Lum's staffing,

Kill the President



Part 13



"Listen up, this is magic!" Irving reads: "'It is tragic'

says this latest Matt Drudge editorial,

'that two weeks into this experiment, our disoriented President,

seems locked in his tenement. The Washington sentiment --

congressional and senatorial -- approaches terminatorial.'

so she realised Lumwedder's libido was no better

nor his brain free of this damn delirium.

Satisfied that no cutie, no raven-haired beauty,

had overstepped her duties, she could rest up. The floozie

he loved was a stupid bacterium.

in response to which, Hedda started tailing Lumwedder

who now had a bed at the Bactorium.

She thought he was running around with some young thing,

some cute little dumb thing, till she heard him say something

about a "World Peace Imaginatorium",

An auxiliary crew of 150 or two-

hundred volunteer staff answered emails

that poured into 'Bacterial' with requests for material.

Lum's skills managerial proved quite magisterial,

a fact that was not lost on some females,

putting Yahoo and Google, MSNBC, Froogle,

IMDB and such sites of high standing,

even Adult Friend Finder, in the shade, a reminder

that a gentler and kinder website can still find a

big readership (my sites notwithstanding).

Message to 'Kill the Prez' subscribers

Are you a happy bacterium?

Are you enjoying Irving's tale? I hope you're having half as much fun as I am. At 116 verses, I ain't even started yet so hang onto your headdress!

I'm looking for a reader or readers who would like to pen a few sentences every week or two, a brief outline of what has transpired in the most recent posts of KtP, to keep the Lumwedder narrative fresh for newcomers. It's kinda necessary because it's so big.

The update I have in mind will be sent to the 2,770 subscribers of Wilson's Almanac. Naturally, I'm asking and offering this first to my highly valued KtP subscribers (Bacteria), but next weekend I will also ask the WA gang (Almaniacs). I just thought I should offer it to you first. You don't have to be a professor of literature to do it, just someone who can express themselves well in English and thinks it would be fun to do.

If you like to write, and this appeals to you, either alone, in a team, or taking turns with one or more others, please let me know this week. If you would like to have some publicity for a project you're in, I'll be more than happy to exchange ad space for your valued help. Thanxalot, dang me!

So Tim got his bandwidth, much more than a handwidth

or asswidth, good for 500 million plus.

That's hits per day, not per month. Why, traffic per month

was a volume unth-inkable, uncountable, unf-

athomable, something like 62 billion plus,

Anyway, Tim got the site up and a very good write-up --

cover story on TIME magazine.

Salon, which just loves to be cynical of

almost anything 'dove', called bacterial.gov

"the hottest cool site we have seen".

"Bandwidth? No worries. No worries chicken curry,"

Lum had promised. "Make it wide for the masses.

How wide do you need? Like Oprah's ass if you need.

Some sites you can't read, slow as Dubya on speed.

Like NASA's. Loads like sorghum molasses."

It took only days for the bacterial craze,

phrase and phase to blaze exponentially.

Kids magazine could have reached 17

(six of whom were Mundines) but its potential was seen

when the website was backed presidentially.

"I mean, for our nation." "It'll be education,"

said Irving. "He'll be learning, why dang me."

"Mr President, we hear ya!" "And he'll still live quite near ya.

There's a pizzeria, cafeteria ... he'll learn 'bout bacteria ..."

"Err ... great," said the folks. "Shucks, don't thank me."

Without hesitation Mom allowed Tim's vacation

when Lum asked if he may sequester

her son: "We are so very proud, he may go

a few days or so." Pete was even more so:

"Heck, let him have the semester!

Kill the President



Part 12



We now zoom ahead from that scene by Tim's bed,

(once the HQ of Kids -- "Now with Irving"),

to the heart of DC, where Tim oversees

a staff of 23, a dedicated ISP,

his own server, with ten sites that it's serving.

See, 'bacterial', like 'dang', soon entered the slang

that spread with Lumwedder's epistle.

This emergent vernacular with intimations oracular

was sudden, spectacular. And when you look back you'll a-

gree: intercontinental ballistic missal.

Yikes! I'm ahead of my serial. As argot, 'bacterial'

means no more to you, reader, than 'germs',

if I may so presume. Unless you can zoom

fast forward from Tim's room. Allow me to assume

that role. Indeed, those are our terms.

This scene's fully played out, so time for a fadeout.

Suffice to say, there at Tim's bedside

was born on that day at 30 Elm Way

what people will say many years from that day

was the world's first 'bacterial' website.

"I'm sorry?" asks Pete. "Feet? I don't hear any feet.

Just the plumbing I guess, Mr President."

"Yeah, I guess," ponders Lum. "Got that trouble at home."

But Lum's acting dumb. "Sure, Pete, just the plumbin'.

White House plumbers. Got the same at my residence."

"Mega-whoozie?? No worries. No worries chicken curry.

Tried to learn that stuff once. Nearly fainted.

And java -- holy sheet!" Then suddenly Pete

appears. "Listen, Pete. In the roof. Sound like feet?

Bit early for Santy Claus ain't it?"

"I can upload tonight! I'll redo the site.

Lum, Kids will become one of the better mags!

Add a forum or two, and a picture of you

in your hat --" Tim's enthused. "And I'll make sure Yahoo

and Google can find us." "How?" "Metatags."

Tim audibly sighs. Irving studies his eyes.

Tim gulps. Irving says "Son, you're hesitant."

"Well, Lum ... the expenses --" his amanuensis commences.

"The hell with expenses! Why, our so-called defenses

are a billion a day!" Then Lum grins: "Plus ... I'm President!"

"We would get this out faster if you were my webmaster!

Huh, Tim? Can we post online now?"

"Sure ... except ... well, the bandwidth ..." [There's no rhyme 'for bandwidth',

I think. The word 'bandwidth' is like 'month'. Blah blah bandwidth.]

Says Lum "Can I help? Show me how."

[Pip says: Dang me! 102 verses. Are you lost yet? The whole rave is at http://www.wilsonsalmanac.com/kill_the_president.html.]

"And we do have a site -- not much of a site --

I put up the headlines each month."

"Are you good on the Web?" "Not bad," Timmy says.

"Well, put this issue to bed, and then ..." Irving says.

[Poet's note: what the hell rhymes with 'month'?].

"Sir --" "Please call me Irving." "Sir, I can't call you Irving!"

"OK. Call me Lum. I insist."

"I should call you Lum?" "It sounds a bit dumb?"

"No, but --" "Call me Lum, my Mom called me Lum."

"OK ... Lum ... well, I do have the story on disk.

"Man, you have such a brain -- 'THE PRESIDENT GOES SANE' --

Best headline I've ever read yet,

at least about me. Except when I was VP:

'VP on QT -- QT in DC'.

Say -- could this interview run on the Net?"



[Happy New Year from Irving, Tim and Pip!]