Al Gore, world’s worst house guest

So here’s the latest. Al borrowed my wife’s G55 and went to McDonald’s, ate burgers, and left the meat-stained wrappers in the truck. “It’s death,” she says. “The smell of death. That’s what’s in there now. You’ll never get it out. I just called the dealership. They’re going to send over a new one and tow this one away. I want him out, Steve. I mean out. Now. Today.”

But here’s the thing. Al eats when he’s depressed. He’s a junk food junkie. I can’t bear to toss him out right now, considering all that he’s going through. On the other hand we really did love that Gelandewagen. It’s an AMG model and totally kicks ass. I mean it’s this huge ass truck and it still does zero to sixty in five seconds. So I’ve come up with a plan. I just called home and told Breezeann, our house manager, to shut down all the air conditioning in the house and the guest house. We’re telling Al that he’s made us realize how important the environment is and how we should be doing more to help out. It’s not super hot out here in the Valley this week, but it’s hot enough. My bet is he’s gone in two days. More as it develops.