The Pentagon. Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General William Bomb (U.S. Air Force) meets in his office with Admiral Grover Shoulderboards, newly appointed Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Bald, mouth set in a permanent frown, Admiral Shoulderboards prides himself in never once having smiled (confirmed by his mother). He helped liberate Kuwait. He bombed Afghanistan and Iraq. General Bomb respects any (American) man who bombs, excepting the Unabomber and Timothy McVeigh.
General Bomb: Before we get to the business at hand, I'd like to acknowledge the death yesterday of that great man, Lenny Killinger.
Admiral Shoulderboards: Amen. He eliminated so many of America's enemies.
Bomb: I had dinner with him and President Parris and her husband, Doug Gard, only last June. He was a spry centenarian. Yes, he resembled a medicine ball with legs, but his mind, unlike former President Lieden's, was as sharp as an F-15's aileron.
Admiral Shoulderboards: Shall we observe a minute of silence for the great man?
Bomb: (Checks his Rolex) Yes, but let's make it for thirty seconds. I have a meeting with the President in forty minutes.
Shoulderboards: All right then. Thirty seconds.
Bomb: (Sets an alarm on his watch) Ready?
The two top officers of the United States military come to realize how long even thirty seconds can seem, especially in the instance of an empty gesture. Admiral Shoulderboards shifts, his permanent frown deepening as General Bomb exhales loudly, checks his watch three times before the Rolex chimes, releasing the men during that half minute from not thinking even once about the departed Lenny Killinger.
Bomb: Onward.
Shoulderboards: Anchors aweigh.
Bomb: This Red Sea merchant shipping business is concerning.
Shoulderboards: Is it ever. Yemeni rebels have a chokehold on the passage through waters bordering their nation. It's unacceptable.
Bomb: Other nations cannot be permitted to have any control over their interests. Their concern about what Israel does to the Palestinians is incomprehensible.
Shoulderboards: Gaza is so far away from Yemen. Why do they care?
Bomb: Some say that our bombing of Yemen has created a blowback situation, and apparently the Yemenis didn't like being bombed by Saudi Arabia, either, or by us.
Shoulderboards: The might of our engines of war should be respected, and loved. If one of my ships is sunk in the Red Sea or anywhere else there will be hell to pay.
Bomb: We'll blame it on Iran, find some pretext, Gulf of Tonkin-wise.
Shoulderboards: The men, women, and transgender persons on my ships are prepared to give their lives in defense of Israeli interests.
Bomb: Israel is more important than America.
Shoulderboards: You've also been blackmailed?
Bomb: An honor and a privilige. I was too young to have been blackmailed by J. Edgar Hoover, alas.
Shoulderboards: I understand that he was blackmailed by Meyer Lansky.
Bomb: Lansky had a photograph of Mr. Hoover sucking on a man's penis. Well, in our time, there's nothing wrong with that! But in the thirties and forties that could get you shit-canned, disgraced, not to mention the embarrassment. Imagine FBI Director Hoover standing before President Roosevelt and having to explain he's a faggot who also likes to dress in women's clothing.
Shoulderboards: I'd rather not think about it.
Bomb: Understood. Let's think about Raquel Welch.
Shoulderboards: I'm a Jaclyn Smith man. She was the only one who stayed for all five seasons of Charlie's Angels. Come to think of it, President Roosevelt must have been blackmailed. He had an affair with Lucy Rutherfurd.
Bomb: So what! And an intern sucked on President Blade's penis in the Oval Office! And I-- (Falls silent).
Shoulderboards: And you, General? Something involving President Parris, perhaps?
Bomb: How did you find out about that?!
Shoulderboards: A source in the DIA told me. He got it from Secretary of State, Artie Sneffen.
Bomb: Sneffen, that weasel! I'll fracture his hyoid bone!
Shoulderboards: She's quite the slut, from what I've heard. She made the beast with two backs with the Defense Secretary Roy Holroyd and with the FBI Director. Also, someone named Samuel Spade and a midget named Frodo Baggins. You, General, and even former President Lieden's son, Happy, are all among her amours.
Bomb: She has a way of making a man feel like he's the only one in the world. I'd sacrifice an F-35 squadron to do my missionary positional magic on her again.
Shoulderboards: You're meeting with her shortly?
Bomb: Yes. She'll be here soon. Dismissed, Admiral. I must brush my teeth and tongue.
A short time later, Bomb's office. He admits President Parris and Secretary of Defense Holroyd. Parris and Bomb sit on his couch, Holroyd stands, leaning against a file cabinet.
Bomb: (To Parris) You look very nice today.
Holroyd: Watch out, Dinah, I think he's trying to charm you.
Parris: I prefer a charming gentleman to a rude one.
Holroyd: "Rude gentleman" is an oxymoron.
Bomb: (To Holroyd) You're a moron.
Holroyd: You are.
Parris: General, Mr. Secretary, please. I'm here to get some advice on how to proceed with this Holy Land kerfuffle. I got a carrier group sitting in the Mediterranean and about fifty-seven ships waiting to blow the shit out of Iran, or Hezbollah, or Yemen, or God knows what! It's too complicated! It looks like America has too many things on her mind, foreign policy-wise. And then there's Taiwan. Should we take on China? How about nuclear war? Can we win one? Cuz I don't want to go into a nuclear war unless I know we can win. Can we?
Bomb: (Simultaneously) Yes.
Holroyd: (Simultaneously) No.
Parris: I hear a contradiction, gentlemen. That confuses this little Oakland girl's mind. Roy, tell me why we can't win a nuclear war?
Holroyd: It's too fraught with unknowns. I daresay it's a known unknown. Picture this. We launch a first strike against China or Russia or both. They strike back. Both sides suffer tremendous, unprecedented devastation--
Bomb: That's why we have bunkers for the chosen few!
Parris: I know mine is an awfully nice one. There's even a bowling alley. So what's the problem, Roy?
Holroyd: The problem is radioactive fallout, in addition to the millions, even billions, killed.
Bomb: Survivors will rebuild the race, a stronger, smarter species capable of living and thriving on--
Holroyd: And then there's countries like India and Pakistan.
Parris: What about them?
Holroyd: They might unleash their warheads, too. And then there's Israel--
Parris: Israel has nuclear weapons?!
Holroyd: You didn't know that?!
Parris: Look, just because I'm the President doesn't mean I should know everything!
Holroyd: The point is, enough nukes would be launched to destroy the world as we know it.
Parris: But the well-built bunkers would be safe havens, right?
Holroyd: Presumably.
Parris: Then what's the problem?
Bomb: Madame President. A post-nuclear annihilation life in a bunker with you would help us forget the concerns of the wretched above-world.
Parris: What makes you think you're going to be in my bunker?
Bomb: You'll need your Chairman of the Joint Chiefs nearby.
Holroyd: That won't be necessary if there's no more war.
Parris: What do you mean, no more war?
Holroyd: A full nuclear exchange would kill any combatants on the surface.
Bomb: You overlook the possibility of sending out drones and robot soldiers to fight Chinese and Russian drones and robot soldiers.
Holroyd: What would be the point of that?
Bomb: Our machines would strive to prevent their machines from locating, damaging, and entering our bunkers. Think of that catastrophe, Mr. Secretary! President Parris and I in the middle of a bowling game--
Parris: (Laughs) I always throw gutter balls.
Bomb: --and right as I'm on my way to scoring my second three-hundred game of the day a platoon of shiny bipeds clanks in, firing flamethrowers and machine guns out of their forearms.
Holroyd: I'll make sure I note that down as something that will never happen.
Parris: (To Bomb, laughing) He's talking about your three-hundred games. Okay, gentlemen, both of you calm down. I've decided not to start a nuclear war. Sorry, General Bomb.
Bomb: I never said to start one. You asked if we could win one and I still say--
Parris: No more! Now what about Yemen?
Lieden Campaign Headquarters, Scranton, Pennsylvania. Former President Moe Lieden, alone, stands in a corner of his office, facing a drawing on the wall in magic marker of a woman's face. From the luxurious hairdo it seems to be a depiction of President Dinah Parris.
Lieden: (Speaking to the drawing) And furthermore, Dinah, I don't like how you're handling Ukraine. You're sending our beautiful bombs to Israel, not that they don't deserve the attention--Israel has the right to defend herself! Israel has the right to exist!--but I'm worried about the Ukrainians. They need to hold on. They need to win. A greater Ukraine, yeah, that's right. Ukraine plus all of Russia. Throw in China, too, why not? And Mongolia, and India, and Indonesia, and Bangladesh, and every country Americans have never heard of. It can all be Greater Ukraine, but stay out of Israel! You know, that Gal Gadot, she's Israeli. I saw those two Wonder Woman movies. Liked the second one, couldn't understand the first one. How can an island be hidden for so long? Does it have a Romulan cloaking device? Where are these cloaking devices? I want one. I'd start by cloaking these headquarters so my opponents in the 2024 race, like you, Dinah, and Gabrielle Bongo and that scary Cassandra Hartliss Blade, couldn't find where I am. And I don't want my ex-wife to find me, either. She's begging to come back to me. Once you get a taste of being First Lady you never want to give that up, or so I've been told, by an interior voice. Yeah, I've been hearing voices. One of them said, "Moe, you're losing your mind. You're hearing voices. You can barely handle walking up and down stairs. You're like a Dalek in Doctor Who." Boy, that show got really bad. I'm a Tom Baker man, the fourth Doctor, the best Doctor, looked like Harpo Marx. I bet you don't know these references, Dinah, you're so young. You probably like Madonna. You probably reminisce about the music of the Tubes. You miss the good old days of MTV, well those are gone! Gone with my wind. (He leans close, attempting to sniff the drawing's hair).
General Beak, Space Force, member of the Joint Chiefs and Senior Advisor to the 2024 Moe Lieden Presidential Campaign, enters.
Beak: Mr. President, what are you doing?
Lieden: I'm getting to know the President.
Beak: You're talking to the wall.
Lieden goes to his chair and sits.
Lieden: Beak. I'm not sure I can do a campaign anymore. It's too hard.
Beak: (Still standing) You must! Space needs you to overcome whatever difficulties your mind and body, indeed, your soul, may face!
Lieden: I'm hearing voices, Beak. I'm drawing on the wall. Look, do you think that even looks like Dinah Parris?
Beak: It's a splendid likeness! The hair, the laughing mouth! Let's put it in the category of caricature. (He sits).
Lieden: I'm tired, Beak. You know, during my family's annual Thanksgiving splash into the Atlantic at our place in Delaware I only went in up to my ankles. Even then I was afraid my heart would fail. Happy kept calling out, "Dad! The water's warm, just like in Miami Beach!" A damn lie! It wasn't warm. It felt like cold liquid death seeping up my legs. Would you rather drown or suffocate?
Beak: Both involve an inability to breathe.
Lieden: Okay Mr. Dictionary, try answering this simple question: Do you believe in God?
Beak: No. I believe in Space.
Lieden: That's like a vacuum, right?
Beak: Yes.
Lieden: So you believe in nothing?
Beak: These questions have no bearing on your campaign.
Lieden: Just taking a break from the campaign, all right?! Don't you ever want to unwind? Hey, let's get some girls! Some booze! Let's get a motel room and party! Booze! Paper cups of booze! Girls! I'll feel like a senator again!
Beak: Mr. President, I think not. You need to focus on your campaign. You need to not drink booze and you certainly need to stay away from young women.
Lieden: Who said anything about young women?
Beak: Mr. President. I'm going to call your doctor and have him give you another injection.
Lieden: Doctor Who? It better be Tom Baker or I'm not watching!
Drusilla, sister of Gaius Caligula, died of a fever, or something not properly diagnosed by modern standards. Once his beloved sister died, Caligula lost his shit. Total fucking maniac, according to Suetonius, the historian who didn't like him much. By A.D. 41 the ruler had become so unhinged his own Praetorian Guard surrounded him and stabbed and hacked him to death, sending him to his own private Olympus. Did he become a god, as Caesar Augustus was said to have become upon his death? Apply this idea to our leaders. President Reagan is therefore a god, as is his successor, Jorge H.W. Arbusto. One can thus pray to these figures. Our President, Dinah Parris, gets ahold of this idea and begins thinking of herself as a potential goddess, "a kind of Diana Ross crossed with Harriet Tubman, or some other famous Black lady. I'm not too up on the subject, that's why I've formed a team of eager experts to study it as a possible solution to beefing up the country's morale because, people," she says, addressing her cabinet, "We've got a grumpy population. I want spirits to rise! You know how you feel when a great singer shows up on The Voice? You forget all of your problems, or I do. I don't even remember where Yemen is if I hear a contestant belting out Reba McEntire's 'Does He Love You.'
Doug Gard, First Gentleman: He certainly does love you! My dear Dinah, I'm considering taking singing lessons so that I can serenade you with wine and song, followed by a naked romp in our gigantic taxpayer-funded bed!
President Parris: Doug, please, this is a cabinet meeting.
Secretary of State Arthur "Artie" Sneffen: Oh Madame President, I think we'd like to hear more from Mr. Gard. Please Doug, tell us about your date night with the leader of the free world!
Doug Gard: My sarcasm detector works just fine, Sneffen. You're an odious toad. I can't wait for you to hop out of this administration. Dinah, when will you ever dismiss this amphibian?
Parris: My professional relationship with Mr. Sneffen is not the subject of this meeting. We've got to figure out what to do about Yemen and its threatening of Red Sea ship traffic. Plus, I need someone to give me the lowdown on Harriet Tubman.
Secretary of Defense Roy Holroyd: Regarding the former, the Houthis are focused on targeting ships that help Israel.
Parris: Exactly. Roy. How about a full scale naval war in the Red Sea? Will that go down well with our allies?
Holroyd: It would be messy. War in that location would interfere with merchant traffic for sure.
Parris: Okay then. Shall we invade Yemen?
Holroyd: The Yemenis are a tough and determined bunch. They had the guts to declare war on Israel. After all the bombing from us and the Saudis, plus the famine, I'm afraid the armed forces of Yemen are a tad pissed off.
Sneffen: Keep delivering munitions to Israel, Madame President.
Parris: Of course we'll do that and naturally we'll shrug our shoulders at the accusation of enabling genocide. I mean, look, we have all these bombs. It's like a fruit stand. In order to stay in business we have to sell our mangoes.
Doug Gard: Such a delicious fruit.
Secretary of Commerce Bernard Bernardi: War is good for our economy. It's really the only thing America knows how to do well.
Secretary of Transportation Skeet Hoppenhoe: Our masterful neglect of the nation's infrastructure should also be acknowledged.
Parris: Yeah, all that boring shit. Look, this is how I see it in regard to the Houthis. They comprise yet another opportunity to flex our muscles, show the world who's boss. If I have a goal in life it's to be President when the country goes down the drain so that I can say "At least I tried!" I inherited all these problems. When 9/11 happened I was working in City Hall in San Francisco, running the Family and Children's Services Division. I love children. So I help Israel bomb children but that's beside the point. Am I supposed to go up against the military-industrial-congressional complex? Hello!? Anybody remember JFK? But I do love children. In another life I might've been a mother with three or four kids, all grown up now and out of my house, maybe some of them in the Army, or the Marines, getting ready to go ashore in Yemen. I didn't start the Yemen problem. Why should I fix it? Am I supposed to solve the Palestine-Israel problem? Stop a genocide, me? What the fuck? I'm just a little Oakland girl who managed to climb the greasy pole of success. People. I'm the accidental President. Moe Lieden lost his shit one day and here I am! Well, we all lose our shit sometimes! You just gotta make sure you don't lose your shit around somebody who can steal your power. So if any of you feel weak, just know this: I will not allow jelly in the belly. I expect total agreement from all of you whenever I make a decision. All for one, and that one is me! I want to see nodding heads now, not big eyeballs staring at me. NOD YOUR HEADS!!! All right, that's better. I run this fruit stand!
Doug Gard: Dear?
Parris: What is it, Doug?
Doug Gard: I'm proud of you, and I can't stop staring at your melons.
Sneffen: Madame President. Why is the First Gentleman attending cabinet meetings?
Parris: BECAUSE I DECIDED HE SHOULD ATTEND THEM!!!
To be continued,
Vic Neptune
