"What problem? Fishbottom was close to speaking in full sentences, so I didn't rush him.
"Killed the music. Lied to the people. Impeach him!"
Since Fishbottom and many of his colleagues spent most of their time sitting on their thumbs, while they figured out newer and better ways to obstruct necessary legislation, I assumed this was similar. It wasn't. The rotund Senator was furious, but now coherent. At least as coherent as he had ever been in his 30-year political career.
"What is it you think the President did this time?" I asked calmly, so as not to further excite him.
"Did you hear what he did at the inauguration?" he asked.
I had watched the swearing-in, the speech, the parade, and several hours of empty commentary on different networks about Michelle Obama's dress and hair style, but couldn't see anything that rose to the level of impeachment.
"Special investigative committee. I'm calling for a Congressional committee to investigate the President, render an objective report. And then impeach the SOB!"
It was obvious something was interfering with Fishbottom's blood flow to the brain, but what?
"He killed the music! Our National Anthem. The most important song in the world. I'll live and die by that song. God Bless America and the Stripes and Stars!"
"You mean Beyonce''s version of it?" I asked. "I thought she did a great job. She hit every note. It was clear. It was--"
"Fake!" he shouted. "Fake! She didn't sing it. It was a recording. That's un-American, and Obama did it."
"Look, Senator," I tried patiently explaining, "it was freezing, and the recorded music was used only because her vocal cords were affected by the cold. But it was her words. Her music."
"Her lies! Investigate her and the Lier-in-Chief! Investigate the Marine Band. In fact, when I convene the committee, I'll subpoena the entire Marine Corps. Every jarhead will be sworn in under oath to tell the truth that Obama interfered with our National Anthem. It's a conspiracy, I tell you. A conspiracy, and that godless Muslim who was born in Kenya is behind it."
"The Marine band," I said, calmly trying not to further excite him until he could be evaluated by mental health professionals, "was also affected by the cold. You ever try to blow a french horn in 20 degree weather? Slide trombones don't slide. Clarinet and sax reeds become so brittle, even with a gallon of spit, they crack."
"Crackpot prez-dunce!" he said. "This was the inaugural. It was too long. It was overpriced. That tax-and-spend phony took money out of our poor, overtaxed constituents to pay for his tribute to himself, and raised the deficit another trillion dollars."
"It was paid for out of private funds," I corrected him.
"Doesn't matter. He was dumb enough to have it in January! I smell even more conspiracy here!"