Sunday, July 23, 2000

All wet


Gov. Patton must prefer dry humor

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        It was the Fourth of July on the steamy streets of Lexington. Gov. Paul Patton was wearing cool shades and waving to the adoring(?) crowd of onlookers from the back on a yellow convertible as a holiday parade moved through the city.

        Suddenly — and this really happened — three armed assassins spilled into the street, aiming their weapons directly at the governor and firing. Before being quickly apprehended by alert Kentucky state troopers, the assailants, sadly, riddled the governor with — water.

        At least it's believed to have been water. The liquid sprayed on the governor during the parade was — and I'm not kidding — sent to the state crime lab for analysis.

        It was only water, Richard Puckett of Lexington — one of the three men charged by police (that's right, charged) for soaking Mr. Patton — told the Lexington Herald-Leader in a July 18 front page story.

        “We were just having a good time,” Mr. Puckett said. “No malice was intended.”

        No malice? A likely story. Then how, Mr. Puckett, do you explain the use of what can only be described as “savage weaponry” in the attack?

        “It was not one of those little squirt guns,” a Kentucky State Police spokesman, presumably with a straight face, told the newspaper.

        “It was one of those Super Soaker jobs.”

        A Super Soaker?! What kind of animals are running the streets of Lexington? Has Central Kentucky gone mad?

        Granted, I don't have a concealed carry permit for a water gun, but I've fired my son's Super Soaker — and it is a mother! I've never had the cause to take a squirt at Mr. Patton, but I thought about using it on Jim Kidney when he came to campaign at my house during the 1998 GOP congressional primary.

        And the weapon does do wonders when it comes to dispersing wasps and 7-year-old boys, yet it failed when I tried to chase a baby racoon off my deck. It just drank the spray.

        Still, you wouldn't think using a Super Soaker is a criminal offense.

        Try telling that to Mr. Puckett and his partners in the crime of the century, Benjamin Beckett and Justin Perry. All were tracked down by state cops and subsequently charged with “disruption of a meeting or procession,” a misdemeanor that carries up to 90 days in jail and a $250 fine.

        “I guess (the state police) feel like they're doing their jobs,” Mr. Puckett said in the story. “But I think they're going a little overboard.”

        Lexington Mayor Pam Miller also was wetted down by the trio, but she “shrugged it off,” the paper reported.

        Ever been to a Fourth of July parade in Fort Thomas or Fort Mitchell or other Northern Kentucky cities?

        Getting doused, and doing a little dousing, is as common as high school bands, bad floats, too many politicians riding in the backs of convertibles and young kids risking their lives for a 3-cent piece of candy some guy hurled onto the street from the bed of a pickup.

        Sen. Jim Bunning of Southgate — never shy about taking a shot at Mr. Patton — said the governor seems a little thin-skinned.

        “He wouldn't last long in the Fort Thomas parade,” said Mr. Bunning, who has been soaked many times over the years. “If you're in that parade, you're going to get wet.”

        Mr. Patton had no comment. He was probably drying off.

Patrick Crowley covers Kentucky politics for the Enquirer. He can be reached at 578-5581, or (502) 875-7526 in Frankfort.

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