Wednesday, January 04, 2006

Future Bush Script: Bush & Kristol

The President and the First Lady are sitting around a desk in the family quarters going thru the Sunday papers. She likes to read the style section, while he prefers to read the classified ads. Both scan the op-eds while waiting for political shows to begin. The President is also waiting for the political shows to end, so he can watch sports and cartoons. The President understands the American people, often for good reason, do not care much for politics. Understanding that simple fact is one reason why he wins and what he calls "the Gore" loses.

In the First Lady's corner of the desk, there's a nice lay out of bagels and cream cheese, along with a cup of coffee. She begins to do the crossword puzzle, at which she excels.
In the President's corner of the desk, two small insects, of seeming equal strength, contend with each other within the confines of an empty pizza box, under the Commander-In-Chief's watchful eye. As the President is about to opine upon the meaning of what he sees, Andy Card comes in to remind him that a scheduled visitor has arrived.


Andy Card:
Mr. President, Bill Kristol is here to see you. He's scheduled. He's on time. Would you like him to, you know, wait a while, so you can finish up? I'll have him wait as long as you want him to wait. He'll wait.

President Bush:
Good morning, Half-Deck. You look good today, like a royal flush or maybe a joker or something. Send him in. I'm not afraid. Are you?

Andy Card:
Not afraid sir. I'll have him in shortly. He's on our side, you know.

President Bush:
Our side? Don't tell me what you think I know. I'll settle for him being on his side. I'm on my side, that's all I know. Tell you what, Half, Kristol is talented. He was great in that Harry Married Sally movie. He told some tough truths to Sally, right in the beginning. Tragic it took a whole movie and a ten dollar ticket price to prove him right. I'm telling the Democrats some tough truths too. Guess who will be proved right?
It's gonna cost more than ten bucks this time. Hey, haven't we all seen this movie before? Maybe the Democrats are just like Sally. Sally was better looking though. Haha. Hey, Kristol's a baseball fan too. Gotta love that. Sure he's a Yankee fan, but I forgive his anti-Rangers liberal bias. What's important is he made a good baseball movie. That's good for baseball overall. What's good for baseball is good for 'Murica. Besides, he's a New Yorker. If a New Yorker tells you he's a Texas Rangers fan, don't trust him. Would you trust Zarqawi, if Zarqawi was a baseball fan, and he told you he was loyal to the anti-Zarqawi baseball team? Incidentalcoolcatally, Zarqawi ain't no baseball fan. No way.

Andy Card:
Yes, Mr. President, I mean no, I mean, ah, I never trust Zarqawi, uhh , ahh this Kristol is not the one, ah ... oh..(gulp)... we all trust you to do the right thing. Maybe the First Lady can help ....

President Bush:
Save your strength, Half. You Da HAM ! Send him in. I'll be okay. Anyo problemo, the First Lady is here to helpo. Go and get him, then eat some Alpo.Take the rest of the day off and spill a chill.

Andy Card:
Yes sir. Thank you sir. The complete text of my full briefing for you is on this paper. Hope there's no confusion. If there is, I am sorry I was not clear. I'll keep my cell on.

President Bush:
Keep your cell on? How can you chill? You're staff, not a Denture Servant. Supposedly. So relax. Vamose. Go home. Chill-osity watch starts now. I am turning on the ice box. Bye Bye. Tomorrow's D-Day. I'll see you on the beach.



Andy Card leaves the room with speed. On his way out, he orders his own aide, a dutifull but frightened young man the President has nicknamed Cardscard, to send Mr. Kristol in. Card then tells Cardscard to stop shaking like a leaf and to make real sure the President is not too surprised when he discovers it's not the actor Billy Crystal, but William Kristol, the neoconservative theoretician, coming in to see him. After Card gets into the elevator, the First Lady looks up from her crossword puzzle. She seems somewhat dismayed, if not surprised.


First Lady:
Oh George, that was not very nice. Andy is so loyal, but he's scared to tell you the truth. Sometimes you jump at him. He tries so hard. You know who he was talking about. You better not try these stunts with me. Besides, you got that movie all wrong.



Indicating some safe feminism, the First Lady raises, then lowers, an eyebrow.


President Bush:
Look, I'm just toughen' him up a bit. For his own good. He's been working for our family forever. When we set him free, I want him to be able to face the world, on his own terms. Bambozzle! Hey, when I was young, I was made mistakes. I don't want Andy to repeat my errors. If Dad was as tough, but fair, with me, as I am with Andy, maybe I would not have made as many mistakes. Then again, if I didn't make all those mistakes, I'd probably never be President, since I'd lack that common touch, which helps to set me apart from Dweebacles like the Gore.


The President is conflicted within. In his own mind, he believes what he is telling the First Lady. Yet, his heart is whispering to him that the First Lady's harsh rebuke may not be with without some merit. Frustrated, he slams the pizza box shut, bringing the insect fight contained therein to a smashing, if inconclusive, conclusion.


The President forgets which bug, if any, he was rooting for. Yet he decides, in his own mind, to declare the bug that he was rooting for, before he forgot which bug that was, to be the decisive winner. In reality, both bugs lost equally and deep in his heart, the President sadly knows this to be the case.

As Bill Kristol walks in, the First Lady gets up to greet him and put him at ease. Kristol is respectful, but somewhat amused by this. He recalls a recent lecture. An earnest young woman, full of well meaning, if somewhat simple views, had kept congratulating him on being awarded a visit to her small red brick red state college. Looking at the First Lady, with some measured condescension, he muses on the general usefullness of seemingly unscripted enthusiasm.

After motioning to the First Lady to return to her a seat, Kristol gives a grown up nod toward the President, then he sits down himself. Kristol begins speaking as he rifles thru his briefcase looking for a summary of what he has come to inform the President about. The President waits a minute, then cuts Kristol off right in the middle of a point, causing Kristol to lose his railroad of thought.

President Bush:
Your mom, Gertrude Himmelfarb, is a good woman. A scholar. She is unique.


Kristol is surprised and further amused. Does President Bush really know about his mother's scholarship? Kristol allows a smug chuckle to be buried safely beneath the outward layer of the marketable mirth that coats his otherwise very serious demeanor.

Bill Kristol:
Oh thank you so much, Mr. President. (speaking slowly) Also, thank you for awarding my father the Medal of Freedom. We Kristol's argue about much. Some people say, we argue the world, but we all admire your courageous foreign policy. It's to your credit that you continue to lean forward. If you err, let it be on the side of strength, of victory.

President Bush:
Let me ask you a question. Did your mom ever tell you or tell others that she thought you were a nice kid? Did she ever say, "That son of mine, he is so nice? " Anything, along those lines?

Kristol is taken aback. The interogatory unsettles him some. He finds it to be impertinent.

Bill Kristol:
Ahh, well, we all have moms. Going forward, concerns about all mothers obviously remain paramount. No one that matters would ever suggest otherwise. As you know better than most, Iranian mothers are now under particular strain. As we turn our attention toward them, serious people will concur it's to your cre...

President Bush:

Mr. Supershineykristolball you're spinning too far ahead of things. We'll get to Running moms and Soccer moms soon enough. Are you now Mr. Topic Change Machine? Okay, I just put my dollar Bush in your machine. Now gimme me all four quarters of truth, not just your too bad sense. Gimme a Kristol clear answer. This Bush burns. Don't burn back. You might catch fire. Who ya gonna call if that happens? The McLaughlin Group? Bye-Bye! My boy Johnny Mickey Laughey don't even have you on his show. Bye-Bye! You think he'll save you?


Kristol begins to sense that he is losing control of the conversation. Very privately, he recalls Lenin's formulation, "Who? Whom?": Those who ask the question, often determine the answer. Who is asking whom? What just happened? Part of him resents being bested at this game, by someone he came to guide, rather than be guided by. However, another part of him is reassured, even thrilled. Up close, he is seeing the President, a man who once gave him pause, use the power of his office and the force of his personality, to control the dialogue and to set the terms of debate. Damm.

A measure of panic sets in, just for a split second, as he realizes that his degrees, his resume, and his intelligence are worthless at such moments. It's a dangeous feeling. It's an exciting feeling. He's up against raw power. The Leviathan does not care what it's target has read or said. It destroys the target. Is he a target? Obviously not. But now he can sense what it's like to be on the wrong side of power. He hates it, but he loves it. Alas, it's his power too. He's on the right side, is he not?


Such awesome power, he thinks, if channeled properly, can be an end in itself, not just a means to an end. If John Keegan's seminal masterpiece, "The Face of Battle," told one all one needs to know about blood terror of ground combat, then being on the receiving end, if only momentarily, of President Bush's manipulative schema, should serve as an equivalent lesson about the realities of power. Kristol feels the heat. Is this his Icarian moment? Hardly. Consider it one ferocious lesson in practical politics. He internalizes it.


Bill Kristol:
Mr. President, please forgive my lack of focus. It's a flaw. Let my rhetorical errata be my political stigmata. Your cause is my cause and my cause is to bear witness. In doing so, my hope, our hope, is to ....

President Bush:
You still have not answered me. If you continue to try to change the subject, I'll make you run to 7-11, get me a Big Gulp, and be back within twenty-seven minutes. Make that a Double Big Gulp, which is harder to run with because the plastic top is so wide that it falls off when you squeeze the cup, which you can't help but do when running. For every minute you're late, I'll make you do twenty-seven pushups, in symbolic honor of your original twenty-seven minute time limit, which you will fail to meet!

Bill Kristol:
Yes, Mr President. I understand now. I apologize for the delay. My mother often told me I was a nice kid. Even though I am now middle age, she will sometimes still employ saccharine adjectivals as part of her general advocacy. However, since she is my mother, her compliments on my behalf and even her Nelsonian broadsides against shared adversaries, while lovingly appreciated, are of limited practical utility to me due to perceptions of bias. Besides, as I seek to cultivate Arete, only achievments that are clearly my own, are worth drawing attention to. Nevertheless, you're larger point is well taken Mr. President. Indeed, we all do have mothers. I suppose my initial reticence, was a conditioned reflex...

President Bush:
Stop. Conditioned reflex? Who are you? Yogi Berra or just a cup of yogurt stolen from a Yogi? I think it's number two and your dripping it all over Da Place. You missed my point, Mr. Pointlocator-notabletoator. (sternly) You did not listen.

Bill Kristol:
Forgive me. Please, I am at a loss for words. (now genuinely nervous) Why do you want to know? I will tell you all you wish to know. We are on the same side, Mr. President. I assure you, you have no more loyal ally.

President Bush:
Your last six words are false. Are they lies? I'll let it slide, cause you seem nervous. But if you were on the payroll, we'd have to haze you and have you streak around the West Wing with a Chirac mask on and some of Jeb's Florida oranges strategically placed for modesty sake. Believe you me that ain't funny, you know, 'cept for spectators. Brother Marv laughs loudest, just so you know. Don't worry. You're safe, for now. You're learning your place in the Dubyaverse. You're only a little nervous. You're a pretty cool customs officer. At least you don't smell like hell. Not yet. But should da Busho cause you some pusho, you may want to borrow some advispers from Me Press Smelletary Scotso Plopso on your way out the dooreedoo, Paleeepoo. Just smashing your chops. You actually smell like a televison talking point or maybe a library. Like a whole lotta books. Maybe that's why the First Lady gave you that warm smile of hers.

First Lady:
George.

President Bush:
Uh sorry. Just joshing wid Da Frosh. Now dat Kristol here knows which way the sun shines, I'll try to cue him in how to shine some shoes. Your Mom called you nice. Not a big deal. Like you said, we all got moms. Even my mom said I was nice. I think it was in 1987 or 1990. What counts most is what Forty-Three says about her, not what she says about you. You missed that. Guess your SAT scores were not that great, huh? Guess what? Neither we're Bill Bradley's; they were much worse than mine. Not that your icky little pals in the fancy media cared to notice. Ohhh noooo, they called Bradley a "thinker," so when his rotten egg scores came out, they all said, "oh, irrelevant." But your lib pals called me "dumb." So when my far far better scores came out, they all said, "not good enough for me or MIT." We'll guess what? It backfired, Cooter. Yeah, maybe my SAT scores were not good enough for MIT, but they were much better than Mister Individual Talkradiolistener's, who just happens to be the MIT that votes. So Mister Individual Talkradiolister put on his Good Folks Cap and said, "hey, if they think his scores were bad, what do they think about me and my scores?" Capicey Cooly?

Bill Kristol:
Spot on, Mr. President. Spot on.

President Bush:
Spot on? You ain't a Brit. Why pretend you are?

Bill Kristol:
Agreement, sir. Just wished to let you know, in no uncertain terms, that I concur with your statement, both in letter and in spirit. I am in the media, but certainly not of it. Standing apart, I maintain critical distance. Further, I am a conservative, not a liberal. You have me as a supporter, not as an opponent.

President Bush:
Yeah, the liberals oppose me cause they think I'm dumb, but you folks supported me cause you thought I was dumb. Are you learning otherwise? Good for you. We all grow up. I'm still growing. Have you seen how much Andy Card has grown? Anyway. You ain't unique thinking I'm dumb. Also, you ain't unique to lie say that ain't what you thought, which is what you were 'bout to do before I mercifully cut you off. You're also not unique to mimic the Brits. Ohhhh noooo. You press guys all love the Brits, with their Corinthian leather accents. You're all jealous them and they are jealous of your paychecks. Spot on? Who you kidding? Like I said, you may be smart, you may be on my side for now, but you ain't unique. Hooch is unique, but that's another story. Do you know who else is unique. Do you know?

Bill Kristol:
You are unique, Sir.

President Bush:
No I'm not. I'm just an ordinary guy, who came here by way of West Texas. Put a fishing rod in my hand, a pinch of chew in my cheek, when I'm done here fighten evil, and I'll be back to Mt. Vernon. I mean Prarie Chapel Ranch, in Crawford, Tee-Has, USA. But I do appreciate the thought. Now, think Egghead. Who is unique, that you know?

Bill Kristol:
I give up sir. I am at your mercy. Please forgive me of my ignorance.

President Bush:
Your mother is unique. I informed you about that directly. Don't you listen when people talk about your Mamma? What's wrong with you? Here I am, the most powerful man in the history of the world in one of the best planets in the solar system and I'm telling you about you Mom, and you miss a key detail. Say what? Now, why is that? What else you missing? Need a milk carton?

Bill Kristol:
I do not know sir. Exchanging pleasantries, I did not wish to read into it. Maybe I read into what should have been heard plainly. I did listen though. I recalled you called my mother a scholar and I was grateful, in my own way, for that.

President Bush:
Grateful to hear your mom called a scholar? Do you have any idea how many scholars there are in America? Hundreds, at least. But unique is special. Scholar is boring. Unique was the word I used to describe your Mom, but you worried more about she said to describe you! You missed the mountain for the pebbles or trees or something. Why is your Mom unique? Don't tell me you don't know.

Bill Kristol:
Her IQ is in the top percentile? She was ahead of the curve, rejecting socialism?

President Bush:
Rejecting socialism? How does that make her unique? Besides a Pair of Eyeglasses at Yale and maybe a young Putin, who ever believed in socialism to begin with? Rejecting something that nobody in ever believed in is not unique. Also, theres lots of smart folks with a high BS score. That ain't unique. Look, I'll have to help you out. A little help! A little help! Didn't I ask you if your Mom ever described you as nice? Didn't I? Come on.

Bill Kristol:
Yes Sir. You did, Sir.

President Bush:
Bingo. That makes her unique. That does not make you nice. Did I call you nice? You better listen real good. Your supposed "nice" qualities are not why I or anyone else who is cool will ask you for advice. Nope. Leave "nice" to Gertrude. She's unique. How many others think you are nice? Do the math. Actually, don't bother, we've done the math and I gotta tell you, it's classified! Maybe Scooter will leak it down your leg the next time he pats you on the back. Maybe my spies will tell me. Hey pal. You are smart, but only when someone forces you to really think.

Bill Kristol:
Thank you, sir. Sorry I missed the nuance. No scratch that. It wasn't nuance. It was direct, straightforward, and solid. Rock of Gibralter. I am learning from you to look at things as they are. I am improving. I wish to offer advice.

President Bush:
Not nice advice. I don't want nice advice. Laura's nice. She gives me too much nice advice.

First Lady:
George

Bill Kristol:
No nice advise, I promise. Grown up, hard bitten, cold, calculating, sage advice. Lippmanesque, but with an edge. I promise. Not to diminish the, no doubt, excellent advice, which you regard as nice, that you receive from the First Lady.

First Lady:
Oh Bill.

President Bush:
Time to stop playing Chinese Checkers with the Syrian and the Iranian? After all, they ain't Chinese. Agree?

Bill Kristol:
Agree? (elated) Oh boy do I. You are always an upside surprise Mr. President. You are like a stock that consistantly beats the Street's consensus estimates. You are so right. We have to deal with the Syrians and the Iranians. Oh boy, you are right about that. How right you are. Yes, Sir.

President Bush:
How soon you forget. I told you to listen. I said Iranian and Syrian. I did not say Iranians and Syrians. I am speaking of their Mean Teams, not the their people, who I have found, after studing the World Almanac, to be real fine folk. Of course, if we stop playing Chinese Checkers with their Mean Teams and we start playing, something a bit more shocking or a bit more awesome, some good folks might get scratched, but it ain't intentional. You understand? You shave, right? You've cut yourself by accident, right? If you shaved a whole city, full of men with beards, you'd probably have even more accidental cuts and scratches, right? Not intentional though, right? Just so we all read from the same stage (wink). You like to read right? That's what Laura says.

First Lady:
George

Bill Kristol:
Excellent advice, Mr. President. Excellent. No more lazy plural coming from me. Would you like me to write about our meeting in a column? Would you prefer a whispering campaign? I will be having cocktails with just about everyone that matters in the next month or so. The broader struggle for freedom, during our unipolar moment, in the "what went wrong" areas, where our many adversaries plot and plan, is one that cannot be limited to one so-called nation state or another. Antique borders, drawn up by very serious and very admirable British colonial officiers, in days gone by, are just that. They are antique and are best honored in the breach or when they appear on the wall of a map room in a fine London club.

President Bush:
Kristol Gets Game! Continue.

Bill Kristol:
Freedom is not just another word for nothing less to lose. Freedom is a world in which we don't lose. Losing is a word that brave men are not free to speak. You are brave, Mr. President, and one day the world will be free. When that day comes, and it will, the whole world will know your name. They will speak of the struggle, and the result. They will speak of the honor, the nobility, and the true peace, whose name will be yours. Victory. Our children and our children's will sing songs about us, but we will always sing songs about you.

President Bush:
I think you snagged part of that "song" angle from Perletoon, but I'll let it slide. Hey, I like a song now and then, though I can't really sing. Though the First Lady might testafool you otherwise.

First Lady:
George.

President Bush:
I'm gonna need you way out in front in the next year or so. A whole lotta shaken' going on, if you catch my Bush? It might get a little hot. You don't mind a little heat no do you, Mr. Bill? If you leave the kitchen, I bet you'd have some company. Hairy times. No time for comb overs or do overs. Hey, you don't mind some flack, do you? Put on your flack jacket. Just like a soldier, sort of. Hey, It doesn't bother you when they call you a chickenhawk?

Bill Kristol:
Bother me? It does not even register. In any event, the premises implicit in the hate epithet "chickenhawk," have already been demolished by my editorial staff. They also call you, ah um, what I mean is that it's a not an argument, but a rhetorical club, used to bash serious intellectual inquiry. To illustrate, I probably use the minerals chromite and borate in a variety of consumer products, in my house, most of which I am not aware of. Those minerals may have been originally mined in Turkey. I am not a Turkish citizen. Does anyone suggest that I should not be allowed to use consumer products containing those commodites, just because I've never been a Turkish citizen? Also, I avail myself of police resources to protect myself, my property, and my family. Yet, I do not have many law enforcement personel in my family. Does anyone serious suggest just because I may lack a familial connection to this or that particular protective unit, that I should not be allowed to advance contrarian law enforcement theories in my magazine? I am a citizen. I can speak and write about whatever I wish. So it's true that I benefit from military resources, but I have not been in the military. So what. If it did matter, I more than made up for it with my strenuous advocacy on behalf the Reagan defense budget, in each fiscal year, at a critical time during the cold war, and in front of hostile liberal audiences. I've never been shot at in battle, but I have been sneered at, shouted at, and even had pies tossed my way. Half the subscribers of Harper's hate my guts. How do I know? They tell me so to my face when I see them at cocktail parties. I've paid my dues and then some.

President Bush:
You're a good man Charlie Brown. Don't be so defensive though. Before I forget, I recall you mentioned that fact I gave your poppy Irvy the Medal of Freedom. You're Dad's is a good man. He supports me. But you shouldn't try to take credit for your Dad's accomplishment. Did you ever go hunting with your Dad and then try to take credit for his kills? Hey, do you recall the first time you, as a young man, went hunting, without your Dad or Jim Baker around to serve as chaperon? If not, I got a lesson for you.

Bill Kristol:
I'm not sure I follow.

President Bush:
One summer, home from Andover, I went hunting with some of the fellas from Midland. None of our Dads were with us and neither was Jim Baker. It was our first time. Anyway, after some stealthy recon, we found our prey. But when I slinked up on me tippy toes and went to stab this damm pig in the ass, I slipped in some of his swine slop and woke up some of the pig's family. I knew I had better hurry up or else I was gonna be the pig's family's pig, if you know what I mean (wink). Some of my pals ran away. Others stayed. Those that stayed are with me to this day. Those that ran away are mostly in jail for one reason or another. So there I was, facing this stuck swine, stabbing it furiously with my Bowie knife, an original Arkansas toothpick. My knife was not sharpened! No matter how hard I stabbed, the beast would not die. Pig blood is everywhere! Bits between my teeth! Soon it degnerated into a fistfight. Thankfully pigs don't have fists. Meanwhile the pig's family starts going after me. But you know, in a way, I respect that. Still I had to run away. The pig's family chased my oinky ass all accross, what seemed like half of West Texas. I finally escaped. A few months later, I found out my Dad was playing golf with the owner of those pigs. You can imagine how I felt! When I was introduced the owner, I felt like he knew. I just sensed it. Where were we? My point is, be prepared. Sharpen your tools. Don't get a head of yourself. Know the difference between real and fake allies. I'd like to think you're a stand up guy. Would you have stuck with me, while I stuck that pig? Sometimes I am not sure.

First Lady:
George

Bill Kristol:
Mr. President, I'm not sure I can place myself in that particular situation. I wish I could, but I cannot. Maybe that's no longer quite right. Arguably a soupçon of faith based dietary rigor on my part, providing it meets the old Kantian smell test, could dovetail propitiously with the propogation of your Weltanschauung. Though logically beside the point and often grounded more in metaphysics than in the realities of the modern Polis, personal displays of any exacting discipline, can sometimes lend one added argumentative credibility with broader audiences. Many studies have shown this. Regardless, even in my freewheeling soi-disant apikoros youth, I would have probably demurred from joining your intrepid posse altogether on that fatefull day. Perhaps, my imagination is too occupied right now, but I just cannot see myself in such an extreme scenario.

President Bush:
Why not? You're in one right now. Hey, you hunt Dove Tail?

First Lady:
George

Bill Kristol:
Touche. I guess I didn't hunt animals too much as a kid. But I did manage to witness and hear about some feuds between Lillian Hellman, Mary McCarthy, Dwight McDonald, and many others, that would make that peculiar developmental moment of yours seem pretty tame by camparison. Not just with the Partisan Review crowd, mind you. Don't get me started on Commentary or Dissent. Interesting, till this day, I can still recall exactly where I was the first time I was told about William Barrett's break with Marx and modernism. All I can say, Mr. President, is that I will stick with you as you continue to pursue the Bush Doctrine, which happens to be outlined in vivid detail, in my magazine. Perceptive eyes have sometimes blinked noticing that we have been more loyal to your doctrine than some wobbly elements that have burrowed within your otherwise exemplary team. You can think of us as another set of eyes and ears, aiding your own, which are acute but objectively not omnipotent.

President Bush:
Not omnipotent? Hmm. Should I dump Cheney and hire Cialis?

First Lady:
George.

Bill Kristol:
What I meant, Mr. President is that I think. Oh let me see, I don't want to misspeak.

President Bush:
Then don't speak. You ain't Larry Speakes, by the way. Here, read this memo Turd flushed down to me before you came in. I probably shouldn't show this to you, but here it is.


Kristol looks at the memo handed from the President. Immediately In the front of his mind is a worry that he just touched something that may one day constititute part of chain of evidence in one sordid criminal proceeding or another, whether in the US or the EU. The last thing he needs to worry about is the dread spectre of a looming warrent when he lands in Madrid, Paris, Brussells, Bonn or Berne to give a talk or sit on a panel. But isn't this his crowded hour? Time to takes risks. If not now, when? Alas, as Kristol leans forward and begins to read, liquified condescension within his being begins to evaporate, leaving granulated bits anxiety desperate to fill some of the empty spaces.

Memo To President
From: CodusTurdus
Re: Kristol, Development, Influence, British Empire Etc.
EYES/DWR/DAMAGE/OPPO/PKJKRTD-0786497989/CODE AP/LIBSCALE (a.6.7.b)/UNCERTAIN/WORKUP

Nota Bene, Source Book, Gang of Five,By N.Easton, LIBSCALE (7.d.1.-z.)EYES//others sources/TS/EYES

*Some casual backround [intercept:^&^*%*%*&%^%-codes **
* Plus, [Kristol} wore Agnew T-shirt/despite thinking Agnew crass/called RN 1972 bombing of Haiphong "one of the great moments of American History." May not have been sincere/Supported "Scoop" Jackson for Pres.
* Easton alledges Riverside Dr, NYC address/No known Kristol denial/admitted socialists nearby (rumor)
* [Kristol] -Starts magazine in 7th grade (two collaborators)/Name:Turtle Scoops/satire(allegedly)/ Based on Hellenist myth of Hermes (possible syncretism away from born faith)(vulnerability scale:Vz3) (nb: parents diet reportedly unrestricted-Scale:f-q/cue:unconfirm//statL^h
NB- Kristol mom named Bea. Prof.nameGertrude/Advise: use Gertrude so as to maintain psychic distance/admirer of 19th cent. Brit. Empire/Tory/brown eyes/ negative view of moderns// comments:Codeax:676gghty76ygyw576dud677DECODES

*1974-Kristol with collaborators participlated in **Ritual Pig Roast**/celebrating British Empire/100th BdayChurchill/admires foreigners//Exoteric/Esoteric split rating:v3e
*1977-Declared pop singer Billy Joel a Straussian due to pop hit 'stranger' (check intel) "we all have a face we hide away forever/-Kristol allegedly initiated to Strauss-Hellenist -Faction (S.H.F)(Plato:codee4) in the 70s/Strauss-faction-Source (#34))says attempt to create Philosopy Empire/2V2/tutored by Mansfield/Blitz, calls for "guided populism" and elite build "politics of liberty, the sociolgy of virtue."Athens/Jerusalem split/dichotomy//////////////code///////////////////////
Code:information/cue in pw *******?XCON677876hjhj677?/EYES/Burn coded mark
*Senior thesis-coopted de Toqueville to criticise non elite settlers treatment of Indians-could be op-opted by left on this point (issue code888)//PhD- calls seperation of powers"sacred"-good when he applies to Courts usurping Congress/But could be turned against us/vis-a-vis-inaccurate 16 words in SOTU and other inaccuracies/Kristol-established tactical distance from Reed-Scanlan-Abramoff-Norquist/Code:vxrytg67?/EYES/Annoys Bob Dole/Friends with Gary Bauer
*****CodeDFR-HJHY-DS-NO*****


President Bush:
Well well well. Look who likes to party with pigs. Look who like to par-tee with pigs!.(Mimics French accent). Le Chateau Le Oink Meiser, Vintage 1974. Haha. Celebrating the British Empire? in the 1970s? At Harvard? And your liberalmedia buddies make fun of me because I was normal and liked good times and stuff. Yet, here you are torching pigs in ritual! With no drug use allegations? Did you offer the pig a fair fight? At least I fought fair with the pig and his family. Well sorta fair. I think some of the pig's extended family still recognize me. I have to live with that. Interesting year, 1974. That's one of the years Turd asked me not to draw attention to (wink), but the one thing I can tell you I was not doing in 1974 was burning up some pig carcasses in Harvard Yard, celebrating the lost Albino-Sexy glory, even though I am a White Albino Sexist Protestant, which would've given me a damm good excuse.

Bill Kristol:
We were young and idealistic. Context is key. We were mostly honoring Churchill, so in a sense we were, pre-emptively honoring you, since you are picking up where Churchill left off.

President Bush:
So your pig pickin' is sort of tied, symbolicooly, into my pig stickin'? But Churchill was the British Empire. I talked about him with Hooch. The British Empire died.

Bill Kristol:
But the American Empire is being born. Maybe it was born as you darted accross that West Texas prarie like a shooting star. You were the fortunate son stealing blood from that unfortunate swine, like Prometheus stealing fire from the Gods. Maybe my small taste of the forbidden pig, some years later, in heady days of youth, was but a small taste of truth, of the future, of power. Maybe my sensibility was not with the past, but with the future, with you, with Empire, with glory not yet seen, but dreamt about mightily. We are only as brave as our dreams.

President Bush:
I had a dream last night. A very clear dream - the kind the experts call a lucifer dream. In my dream, my dog Barney, stole all of my socks.

First Lady:
George.

President Bush:
Where were we? We have a big day of games, but that's more important than you wonkers think. We'll have talk more later about those Mean Teams. Maybe you'll wanna write about this in your little magazine. Not sure if you should refer to me as a "senior administration official." Too many folks will figure out it's me. Maybe you should just say you spoke to me, that way enough folks will assume you're lying and they''ll attribute it all to Karl. That'll give me some deniacoolcatability, should I begin to supect some time down the road you be thinking of stickin' me politically, like I stuck that scrappy slopster.

Bill Kristol:
I shall stick with you, first, last, and always.

President Bush:
We'll see. Recall what I told you about how we'd have to haze you if your were on the payroll? Let's see how good you are at math. I already told you Marv laughs loudest. What If you slip in some political slop in the next year or so and force us to have you helmet the Chirac mask for the old West Wing runaround? What percentage of all people, good guys and bad guys, would find that to be a hilarious to see or hear about. What percentage?

Bill Kristol:
Everyone except my mother?

President Bush:
Wrong! You're Mom is your Mom, but she's human. Come on, she'd laugh.

First Lady:
George.

President Bush:
Awright, I'll cut you some slack on that one. Maybe I was too strict, but you're learning your way around the Dubyaverse. The First Lady's making me soft (wink). Gotta let you go. Johnny Mickey Laughey is on. Too bad he don't have you on. Maybe he should. Maybe not. Maybe I'll tell him too. We'll see. Bye Bye!

Bill Kristol:
Thank you, Mr. President. It was a pleasure.

President Bush:
A pleasure? That's Kristol's too bad sense spewing, not my four quarters of truth speaking. Gimme my dollar Bush back.

First Lady:
George.

President Bush:
Hey Kristol, maybe we'll have to send you thru the East Wing, not the West Wing. The East Wing is the First Lady's wing. It's mostly women over there. Haha. That would be hilarious. Just kidding. For now. Haha.

First Lady:
George

President Bush:
Bye Bye!

Picture Credit: S. Mitchell/HarvardNewsService

34 Comments:

At 12:38 PM, Anonymous blue girl said...

Well done!

 
At 9:33 PM, Blogger Irina Tsukerman said...

LOL, your nicknames work well. You might want to adjust Bush's speeches, though, to make it sound more like a parody of the way he usually speaks. : )

 
At 4:12 PM, Blogger Stacy said...

WOW. You should publish this stuff! Well done.

God I hate Bill Kristol.

 
At 6:58 PM, Blogger Blogenfreude said...

Both of them are going thru the Sunday papers.
You lost me ... Bush doesn't read newspapers.
Socks ... I like that part though.

 
At 8:25 PM, Blogger amy said...

I thought Bush's dialogue was particularly funny. I could actually hear the horrible accent coming through with the statements. I thought it was a bit long, though, but very humorous.

 
At 10:03 PM, Blogger Irina Tsukerman said...

LOL, the best parts were the "memo" and the use of weltanschauung! : D

 
At 12:14 AM, Blogger Lily said...

"safe feminism"?????

 
At 2:04 AM, Blogger Renegade Eye said...

A brilliant script. I thought Bush was great. More realistic than some would acknowledge.

 
At 8:19 AM, Blogger Bradley Egel said...

GI -

You must have these published somewhere!

They are hysterical..I love your biting and cynical sense of humor...and left leaning ways...but they are funny no matter who you are :)

Excellent!

Bradley
The Egel Nest

 
At 10:16 AM, Blogger Wadena said...

I think you must have a bug on the little cowboy.

It all sounds so......believable!!

Well done.

 
At 1:45 PM, Blogger Gothamimage said...

Thanks all for the kind words. It's a work in progress, along with other episodes, we're working on. Amy is correct - it is too long, but it is a bit shorter since she pointed that out. It's just a rough draft - seeing what looks and sounds funny. It will continue to be edited. We's still whitling it down. Same with the Hitchens dialogue, which has been edited and , hopefully, improved.

 
At 3:43 PM, Anonymous DiplomaticDiplomatic said...

Some funny lines (good picture choice) - Ridiculous, but weirdly believable. Also , good you skipped the easy vulgarity laughs -- William Shawcross, the British writer might make a good narrator.

 
At 8:44 PM, Blogger Elaine Supkis said...

Geeze, you make Bush sound coherent. He isn't.

His train of thought derails right about when it leaves the station. His lingual ship sails into the sunset at sunrise. His ability to string sentences is the same as a wayward turtle seeking scattered lettuce leaves.

I am running out of examples. Heh.

Karl Rove, on the other hand, is prone to long speeches in private.

 
At 11:17 PM, Blogger Gothamimage said...

We're looking for laughs - it's an expansive artistic (of sorts) interp. - . Besides, it's Bush speaking in private, not public. We're not stenographers, like the NY Times.j/k Anyway,stay tuned, the Rove will be properly introduced.

 
At 2:39 AM, Blogger Just another blogger said...

Good Post

 
At 9:15 PM, Blogger marie curie said...

that is fabulous. hats off to you sir

 
At 9:27 PM, Blogger BarbaraFromCalifornia said...

You should do this professionally...Very creative.

At first I thought you said, good morning half-dick. That too would fit the bill.

I have a bush post up today as well.

 
At 8:10 AM, Blogger marybishop said...

Sophisticated satire - clever as all hell. I really enjoyed reading this piece..thanks GI - glad I stopped by!

 
At 10:25 PM, Blogger Comandante Agí said...

I love Billy Kristol. So naive, but so cute.

 
At 11:38 PM, Blogger Bebe said...

That's what I like about you: Never underestimating the power of a privileged brat.

 
At 1:54 AM, Blogger markfromireland said...

Hi - thanks for visiting and commenting, I drop by here from time to time - found you via Richard's place, so if you're ever wondered from your logs who it is who stops by from Denmark I'm the bogtrotter in question :-).

Keep up the good work. The alarming thing is that it's so believable.

 
At 1:04 PM, Blogger David said...

Fascinating stuff, and very well realized. If your 43 characterization were accurate, it would sure tie up a lot of loose ends, explanation-wise. Not that I buy it, at least as it pertains to the man personally, but as a personification of the machine it works damn well. Not that I know whether you intended it to be one, or if you think he actually is that crafty (which possibility seems much more plausible just now, thanks).

Blah, blah, blah. All by way of saying kudos. I'm sure both of my readers will like it, too.

 
At 12:02 AM, Blogger rev. billy bob gisher ©2005 said...

wow, you are brilliant, and crazy as hell. i agree with the comment above that you should have a publisher. so should a bunch of us. geeez, next time you write novella, could ya snd it to me in the email?

 
At 8:28 AM, Blogger citizen shelly said...

Very terrifying, also hilarious. Great writing.

 
At 10:26 AM, Blogger Sar said...

I am so glad you invited me to come check this out. Brilliant satire. I'm working my way through your previous posts (a little lengthy, but worth it's weight in humor). And I'll be back to keep up with your future posts. Bravo!

 
At 2:29 PM, Blogger paintergirl said...

Fantastic! "Do you know how many scholars there are in America? Hundreds." Hilarious Gotham.

 
At 4:33 PM, Blogger Unadulterated Underdog said...

Pretty good hilariouverse. I find myself wondering often how things ARE in the WH. The manifested activities of Bush often seem foolish and dull but too often come out successful as if they were cold and calculating. I no longer feel that Prez is as stupid as he lets on. I think he does that as a put on to trick his enemies and being not all that bright themselves, the Dimocrats walk right into his trap. This entire Kristol thing could be an excerpt from a day in the life of the Bush. I wouldn't be surprised.

 
At 10:39 PM, Blogger Alicia said...

Wow. Finally had a chance to finish reading this, as I didn't want to skim over it and miss something. You are awesome, my friend!

 
At 12:40 AM, Blogger RitaPita said...

Unbelivably brillant and funny and smart. After reading it three times I couldn't find a favorite part, but I do adore: "Indicating some safe feminism, the First Lady raises, then lowers, an eyebrow.

You have the ability to pick a path and stay on it faithfully until then end.

 
At 2:03 PM, Blogger stefan said...

nice...

 
At 2:08 PM, Blogger fish said...

I missed the part where he bangs his head on something...

 
At 9:57 AM, Blogger Richard said...

Well, I certainly took my time getting here to read this one, Gotham. Better late than never though. Heh. I'm glad I came. You've definitely got the hang of it/them. Keep it coming.

* BTW, re; a possible future Bush-Blair meet, which we've mentioned before. Take a look at these archives of Blair's speeches. [I'm sure you'll find them interesting]and maybe bookmark for future reference, eh?]

 
At 10:15 AM, Blogger Bradley Egel said...

Any new scripts coming??

Come on :)

Bradley
The Egel Nest

 
At 10:28 PM, Blogger Daniel M. Ryan said...

You have to get your practice somehow...

 

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