You see your Gypsy

In the "why can't I just just catch a break" category, W goes to Albania, gets treated like a rock star, get not one, not two, but three stamps issued in his honor, but somewhere in the adoring crowd of gypsies, tramps and thieves, a particularly guts person stole his watch. Why someone didn't say, "Hey Mr President, how 'bout you slip off that watch before you plunge into the crowd," is really the big mystery.

On the other hand, somewhere a new Gypsy King was crowned. If you stole the watch of the President of the United States, you have to move up the latter. Right? Plus, isn't that watch almost invaluable as a family asset? Can't you see for generations the watch displayed in a glass case above the fireplace, "Ahhhh, the watch that your great-great grandfather stole from the President of the United States. Someday that will be yours."

I don't know much about gypsies, for deeper analysis I turn to one Mr Stalin Malone. Now he knows gypsies. I still remember the day he successfully negotiated to buy a $5 t-shirt for $20 at the ruins of the Berlin Wall, and later gave a strange gypsy a pull of his Coke in the Czech Republic. Maybe this explains the unbreakable bond between W and Stalin, both are Gypsy Masters.