Mr. Varmint Goes to Washington

This just doesn't seem right.

The White House is, supposedly, one of the most secure (albeit, public) pieces of property in the world. The Residence is watched around the clock by hundreds of our country's finest Secret Service agents (officers?). They have snipers and anti-aircraft emplacements. There's a big fuck-off fence!

So how come they can't keep out a couple of freaking raccoons?

I mean, I remember reading (Where the Red Fern Grows) that you can catch a raccoon simply by digging a narrow pit, putting a shiny piece of tinfoil at the bottom and banging pointed sticks in at angles that will keep a tiny, tinfoil-holding fist from pulling out.

That was a scheme made up by a little boy. These guys have the National Parks Service on the job!

If I may tangentilize here for a moment: How cool would it be to have the National Parks Service as your landscaper? Do you think you'd get a hat?

Anyway, it's obvious the NPS isn't up to snuff in the varmint rasslin' department. Time to call in the big guns: a 15-year (!) raccoon-catching (!!) veteran. Tim McDowell sounds like he's straight out of a movie. He knows right away what the problem is

"Y'see, they cages prolly don' smell rayet." (drawl embellished)

This is, obviously, an incredibly unfair portrayal of the man. I have no idea if he has an accent, pair of overalls or buck teeth.

I do feel, though, that the Post article gave us one small glimpse of this rodent snaring superstar's caricature when he offers his services gratis:

"I won't charge 'em nothing.(sic)"

I smell conspiracy, however, when he admits that catching raccoons at the White House has always been a dream of his.

Perhaps the man'll get his wish. I'm almost rooting for him. Unless he turns the whole thing into a Pied Piper situation. That guy got the rats out, but he came back and got all the kids, too. That ain't right.

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