Every year, about an hour after the State of the Union, as I’m walking my dog, I see the helicopters.
They come in over my house, and head toward Washington. Last night, two of them ran separately, a couple of minutes apart. I’ve also seen them in a small pack, flying loosely in formation.
I think I know what they are doing. They are ferrying the “designated survivor” back from some secret location.
You may know about this ghoulish role.
Last night, the designated survivor was Interior Secretary Ken Salazar. If the entire Capitol blew up during the State of the Union, he would be your president.