Friday, September 14, 2012

Potus, Introductions part III

After she was gone yelling down the hallway, Potus stood and rocked back on his heels, trying to whistle nonchalantly, swinging his arms.  Johnson opened a hidden door and peered in.  He cocked his head quizzically, indicating the missing maid.  Potus shrugged.  Johnson waved him over and Potus gladly ran over to investigate the main bathroom.
Potus looked into the blue walled restroom to see the three Secret Service agents covered in water, performing an epic battle with the toilet plunger in the toilet bowl.  The First Lady cowered in one corner and rushed to Potus’ side.  Johnson stood next to Potus and the First Lady, observing the men.  Occasionally he would speak into his wrist.
“Ten twenty one, badger on the loose in the sink,” Johnson said.
“What does that mean,” Potus asked,  holding his wife closer around the shoulder.
“That’s classified, Sir.”
Two more agents popped their heads into the bathroom from the bedroom.  Johnson waved the first family out of the bathroom and they exited in a hurry.  The moved out of the bedroom and into the West Sitting Hall.  The House concierge waved to some seats and they all sat.
Potus waved the concierge over.  The House concierge walked over and bent over to listen respectfully.
“Listen,” Potus began, whispering conspiratorially.  “I’ve had some issues with the cleaning staff, and I’d like to remove some of the, shall we say, um…  You know?”
“No, I don’t Sir.  Could you be more specific?” the House concierge answered.
“It’s just that…  How shall we say, I’d do better without so many of the, um, undesirables.”
The concierge seemed taken aback.  “Undesirables, Sir?  You mean the Mexicans?”
“No, the blacks,” whispered Potus.
“Certainly Sir, I’ll take care of the reassignments now,” said the concierge and he left in a hurry.
With obvious relief, Potus asked the room, “So, what’s next?”

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Potus, introductions part II

Potus is escorted to the bedroom upstairs.  The First lady has to see the restroom.  Johnson introduces the head maid.

"This is Shaniqua," Johnson explains.

"Hello, Shaniqua," Potus says.  "It's always difficult to know how to spell names like yours, because there's always some different way of spelling each name."

"Yes, Sir, it can be challenging if you don't know how."

"Let me ask you a personal question," Potus began.

Johnson pressed his hand to his ear and then spoke into his wrist.  "Three seventy one, coming over."  Johnson then addressed Potus and Shaniqua.  "If you'll excuse me, we're having some issue with a faucet."

Potus nodded and Johnson left through a hidden door in the wall.  Potus pointed.  "How did he do that?"

Shaniqua spread her arms expansively.  "The doors are all recessed to make the place seem bigger.  You'll get used to it."  She flopped a little too informally on the bed.  "What were you going to ask me?"

"What?  Ah, yes, about your name.  Let me ask you a touchy question."

"Go ahead Mr. President, you can ask me anything," she purred.

"Wow," Potus said.

Shaniqua smiled broadly.  "I'm attracted to power, what can I say?"  She leaned back on her elbows.

"You must have been hired by Number 42," Potus said.

"Who?" she asked.

"Never mind," Potus said.  "With the spelling of the name, why is it that your... uh... culture... uh."

Shaniqua raised her eyebrows.  "My culTURE?" she asked, her voice rising at the end.

"Yes, well, you know...  Uh...  With the names, why everything is spelled differently, like fifty spellings of 'unique' to mess up the white man's databases our something."

Shaniqua sat up straight.  "Excuuuuuse me?  Do I give a fuck about your silly ass white boy's database anyhow?  What the fuck, with my 'culture' and shit?"

Potus stammered and raised his hands defensively.  "No, just culturally, in your environment, er, your, um, community.  The, uh, the...."

"The black community?"

"Oh, well, we used to say coloured.  I mean, darky coloured...  That is..."

Shaniqua stood up quickly and wagged her finger in Potus' face.  "You are some kind of piece of work, Mr. Privilege White Asshole Power Bitch Motherfucker.  I'm outta this place.  I quit and I'm gonna sue your ass."

After she was gone yelling down the hallway, Potus stood and rocked back on his heels, trying to whistle nonchalantly, swinging his arms.  Johnson opened a hidden door and peered in.  He cocked his head quizzically, indicating the missing maid.  Potus shrugged.  Johnson waved him over and Potus gladly ran over to investigate the main bathroom.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Potus, Introductions part I

February 1
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Oval Office Potus and a few officials were posing for photographs.  Chief of Staff, madam Secretary of State and Secretary of Defence were standing to one side, beaming.
When the last of the photographs were taken, CoS moved forward to speak with Potus.  “Sir, you made a great speech during your inauguration.  All the news outlets are saying it was electrifying!”
“Thank you,” Potus said.  He started digging through the drawers.  “What is all this stuff,” he wondered aloud, pulling out a 1950’s era tape recorder reel.
A staffer came forward and took the reel, muttering something.
“And what does this phone do?” Potus asked, pointing.
Secretary of Defence made a hasty motion.  “Don’t touch that sir.  It’s just for show.”
“Why not?  What will happen?”
“Well, I don’t know Sir.  But you shouldn’t touch it.”
“Like this?” Potus asked, touching.  Everyone stepped back instinctively.
“Sir, really, it’s just for show.  Ignore it,” said SoD.
“Hello?” asked Potus, picking up the phone.
SoD looked like he was going to faint and pulled a white kerchief out of his pocket to wipe his brow.
“No, we don’t want any,” Potus said and winked slyly.  “What’s that?  No, I’m not the head of the household.  Good day, sir!”  Potus slammed the phone down so hard a bell rang somewhere inside.
CoS looked shocked and SoS was scribbling in her notebook.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Potus, Inauguration part III

“Yes, thanks.  Well.  Dear My Fellow Americans,” he began and there was some laughter behind him.  He looked over his shoulder, smoothed his paper notes again, and continued.
“I am greatly honoured to fulfil this position you have bestowed upon me.  The Office of the President of the United States is an unbroken chain of command extending back nearly three centuries.  The Office is greater than any single man who occupies it.  I commend and encourage you to commend the former occupant and thank him for his service to our great country.
“The Office of the President is the source of a great deal of power in the world today.  The United States is the greatest nation on earth and will continue to be so for a long time.  Upon taking this oath, I have accepted a great responsibility to continue the greatness of this Office and our beloved country.  Our nation is currently at the greatest levels of prosperity and health in recent history.  We are currently free of all war conflicts in the world and our economy is the strongest it has been since before smart phones were invented.
“Now, however, we are presented with a new challenge.  The challenge is to continue this era of peace and prosperity without really fucking things up whoops…” Potus stopped suddenly and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.  He was panicked.  The teleprompter scrolled up:
“That is, how do we keep the whole ball of wax moving carefully and slowly?  I mean, we are in peace and prosperity right now, so how do we keep that up?”  Potus was scanning his notes but the letters were just a jumbled mess of scratches that refused to join to form words.  He took a deep breath.
“Let’s say, for example, that we’re in the kitchen.  We are cooking a great meal.  Now Aunt Martha comes in and asks us to cook some cabbage stew.  Well, Martha is sweet and we want her to contribute, but her cabbage stew smells horrible.  Horrible!  So how do you tell her that we have everything under control and we do not need more input on how to run things?  That’s the question posed to us today.  How do we keep Martha out of the kitchen and in the living room where she belongs?
“There is a place for everyone in this great country of ours.  And we need more great Americans to step up and fill crucial roles to fill in the gaps that our nation faces.  Our nation faces challenges in science, literature, education and infrastructure.  The Constitution does not tell us what to do about any of these challenges.  We cannot simply look in a book somewhere to find out how to fix our failing schools and crumbling roads.  Who among us is going to pick up a shovel and start digging asphalt?
“Do you know that in some cities we have workers who go on strike and say that corporate America is screwing them?  Do you remember during the great economic crisis of the early century that people stood around with signs and fought the police?  We cannot put up with this behaviour anymore.  If you do not want to work, how about we fire your ass and you are sent home?  If you don’t want to work for your slice of American pie, maybe you should stay home and complain on the Internet.
“It’s time for those who want to participate in this great country to get down to the business of doing it.  We are a great nation of doers.  We are action-biased.  The word ‘Can’ is the last sound you hear when someone calls our country’s great name.  We are americ-CANs, not ameri-CAN’Ts.  The whole world is afraid of us because we get out there in the middle of the mess and we put our shoulders too the wheel and we do things.  Do they like us?  No, they do not, because they are jealous of our doing.
“It’s easy to be upset at America when you are living in some hell-hole like Uzbekistan.  Where the fuck is that anyway?  Anything with a “Stan” in the name is suspect.  We are the “Can” nation and they are the “Stan” nations.  We will defend our way of life and keep our country running strong for years to come while they try to figure out basics like electricity and cars.
“These foreign countries want us to pay for all the carbon and excess that we supposedly create but this is the basis for our advanced civilisation.  We will not give in easily to their demands for a clean environment and a reversal of global warming.  If it is too hot in the hell-hole you live in, try moving to the great country of Canada to the north.  They also have some open space available in Siberia.  You will be welcome in those places and you can wait for the planet’s temperature to rise enough for you to enjoy living in those frigid wastelands.
“So, my fellow Americans, if you are seldom saying discouraging words; if you long for the freedom of the deer and the antelope; if you look up at the bright sun through cloudless skies, unlike this frozen tundra here in the Capital, then will you join me in the continued strength of this great nation?  God bless you, and God bless America!”

Monday, September 10, 2012

Potus, Inauguration Part II

The First Lady pointed at the cameras in front of the lectern and yelled in a stage whisper, “Your speech.  Your speech,” and she kept stabbing her finger toward the front of the balcony.
Potus nodded and smoothed his notes out on the lectern, turning toward the audience.  He glanced at the scrolling text on the reflective surface of the teleprompter.  He hated these with a passion.  He scowled as he read.
Potus refused to smile.  He half-smirked at his refusal to smile.
Potus laughed at the silly comments.  Who comes up with this?
Potus looked quizzically at the teleprompter cocking his head like the RCA dog listening to its master’s voice.
Potus looked around.  Who was waiting?  The teleprompter showed “TO START” and stopped moving.  “Um,” Potus said and the sound of his amplified voice in the cold air after all that silence startled everyone, including himself.  “Hi,” he said and started his speech.
“Yes, thanks.  Well.  Dear My Fellow Americans,” he began and there was some laughter behind him.  He looked over his shoulder, smoothed his paper notes again, and continued.
“We are gathered here today to witness an orderly procession.  This is the procession of a long line of power secured in the Office of the President.

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