by Ira Tabankin
“You’re telling me a gang built a mortar, and did a drive by artillery attack on the White House?”
“Mr. President, I’m afraid, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Was anyone hurt? Any damage to the House? How are you going to stop this from happening again?”
“Sir, the only injury, was one of my agents who caught a piece of shrapnel, he’ll be OK, he’s already at the hospital. There was no damage to the House. We’re working with the DC police to close Pennsylvania Avenue. We’re increasing the number of snipers and spotters on the surrounding building’s roofs. We’ve borrowed four UAVs from the Air Force; we’re keeping at least one over the House all the time. Hopefully, the next time someone tries to attack you, we’ll see them in advance. We’ve issued a statement to the networks asking them to broadcast a warning that anyone caught trying to attack the House will be met by deadly force.”
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“Nanny, have you read the memo from the PR hack we hired?”
“No, is it important? Is there anything unique he’s suggesting?”
“Actually there is. I suggest you review his thoughts, he’s offered a really out of the box idea, one I think we can use to ensure we win our case where it really matters, in the court of public opinion.”
“Since you’ve read it, can you give me a summary?”
“Just read it, he makes a lot of sense; in fact, I’ve asked security to escort him to the Gray House to join us for dinner this evening.”
“Harold, I’m sure I told you I was going home to San Francisco this evening.”
“Leave after dinner, I really think you should meet him.”
“Where did you find him?”
“He reached out to us. He said he could help us make our case. He sent some ideas to the press office. Our press people suggested I had a call with him. I was very impressed, I asked him to put his thoughts into a memo. Press is very impressed with his ideas. A couple are way out of the box, hell, I don’t think this guy has ever had a single idea that’s inside the box. I’m not sure he knows what the box is.”
“OK, I’ll stay to meet with him. I wonder what he’s thought of that we, our press people, all of the agents in Hollywood and Puten’s people might have missed. You really read his memo and was that impressed?”
“Yes. Read it before dinner, which is at 7:00 PM.”
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At 7:00 AM three days later, Rash is running down the hall of the White House yelling, “Dan, I need to see the President right now.”
“Rash, he heard you, hell I think Reid heard you, go right in.”
“Mr. President, I need to show you something.”
“Rash, slow down, what’s so urgent?”
“Mr. President have you seen the New York Slimes Headline?”
“Rash, you know I don’t read that trash unless you tell me there’s something in the paper I need to see, and then you summarize it for me. What are they saying now?”
“Mr. President, they’re starting a campaign to have President Obsma made a Saint.”
Spitting up his coffee all over the desk, President Brownstone looks up saying, “WHAT did you just say? Something about making him a saint? Was he even a Christian?”
“Mr. President, they’re saying he stopped a second civil war, he saved millions of lives, he performed modern miracles. The paper’s editor and chief wrote ‘…at the very least, he deserves another Nobel Peace Prize.' They're asking the United Nations to set up an international holiday, to celebrate his life and good deeds. An Obsma day to be celebrated around the world for all of the loving and peaceful acts President Obsma performed before he was murdered by the military assassin now sitting in the White House.”
“So now I’m being accused of killing a Saint? When do they get around to calling me the Anti-Christ?”
“I’d guess it won’t be too long before they start calling you that, people will start asking if you have the mark of Satan on you. This is going to get surreal.”
“Where do they get this crap from? Can’t anyone in the LSA realize the man did more damage to the country that all of the other presidents combined? He almost single handily spent the country into bankruptcy; he pushed for a class and race war. Now they say he’s a Saint? Who’s the Anti-Christ here?”
“Sir, no matter how illogical this sounds, you know Reid and Puten are going to pick this up and run with it.”
“So I’m going to have to perform some kind of miracle in order to prove I’m not the Anti-Christ?”
“That would help, can you pull one off?”
“Rash, get out of here, come back with a plan to combat this bat-crap. This is getting crazier than I thought possible. A Saint? Really? I’ve seen everything now. Who thinks this crap up?”
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The world’s media picks up on the New York Slimes story; it spreads around the world like a brush fire in the drought-stricken Southern California brush. It’s the lead story on every news program. “Obsma for sainthood?”
“Obsma for second Nobel Peace Prize.”
“# Obsma for Sainthood”
“Ron, here is proof the world has gone completely crazy. Sainthood? Really?”
Kathy comes into our family room, sitting next to me, she smiles saying, and can you imagine people having little plastic statues of Obsma on their dashboards? Saint Obsma? People today are so uneducated; they react to sound bites as if it’s the truth.”
“Brad, I saw sign up sheets in the supermarket, they’re asking people to sign up to support him. People were in the parking lot asking everyone to sign a petition to the Pope. I got fifteen tweets today from people I barely know asking me to forward their #Obsma for Sainthood. Whoever thought this up has a complete plan. It’s only making us look much worse. Most of the people pushing this idea have no idea what the repercussions of it are.”
“Honey, they don’t need to know, or understand, they’re just tools someone is using. I’m betting it’s only a day or so before Reid comes out with a statement. He’s politically smart; he’ll wait for the movement to gain speed and its spread around the world, and then he’ll come out to endorse it because the people want it. Yup, we’re screwed. This makes it look like President Brownstone killed a Saint. Even if he could have gotten a fair trial, he won’t now. He’s lost, as a country we’ve lost.”
“Ron, do you think this is going to stir up more issues around town?”
“Brad, for sure, last week we had flag shirt fights, this week, it's going to be Saint shirts. I better check in at the station. See you tomorrow.”
“Hey, old buddy, do you remember us telling you we’re going away for the weekend?”
“Oh yea, Williamsburg, right?”
“Right, we’re leaving early tomorrow and we’ll be back late Sunday.”
“Hope you guys have a great time.”
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“Your Holiness, none of us know where the push to appoint President Obsma a Saint came from. It just seemed to blow up out of nowhere. Not a whisper, not a single word, and five hours later it’s the lead story on every news program. Every newspaper, every web site, is pushing for his appointment.”
“Did anyone bother to tell the average reporter, the church doesn’t appoint or make a person a saint. We only recognize them. Only God makes a saint. We, the church only tell their story.”
“Your Holiness, since the process is a long one, might we begin it, if for no other reason than to show we are listening to the common person?”
“Cardinal Tomoko, I will not allow the Holy Church to be used in this child’s game. Obsma was no Saint. He was not holy; he didn’t even believe in God, the Son or the Holy Spirit.”
“Your Holiness, because the first step in the process is an investigation of Obsma’s life, undertaken by an expert, we can select an expert who will take a very long time to do a very complete review. The investigation won’t be completed for many years. We’ll be seen as going along with the wishes of the peop
le while at the same time slowing the process down so that the average person will forget all about it by the time our expert has completed their research.”
“Cardinal, you’re suggesting the Church play a part in this scheme? I have difficulty believing you, of all of the Cardinals, is suggesting we go along with this.”
“Your Holiness, there is much in it for the Church. Those in Hollywood have pledged to donate $100,000 million to the church for us making an announcement.”
“So now we’re selling the Church for a scam to bring harm to the Americans?”
“Your Holiness, it’s not really like that, it’s….”
“Cardinal Tomoko, I can’t agree with this line of thought. I refuse to allow the holy church to be dragged into disagreement between the LSA and the USA.”
“Your Holiness, if we don’t agree to go along with this plan, we’ve been informed many of our priests will be accused of child molestation. Another round of these claims will harm the Holy Church for over a generation.”
“I will not be blackmailed. Please leave me now.”
“Thank you, your Eminence.”
After Cardinal Tomoko leaves the Holy Father alone, the Pope calls for his private assistant, Georg Gänswein. “Georg, tell me the truth, what do you think about Cardinal Tomoko’s idea.”
“Your Holiness, I agree with you. The Holy Church cannot be seen as taking part in this game, and that’s what this is, it’s a game. President Reid is trying to convict President Brownstone in the public’s mind. He’s trying to make it look like President Brownstone is the Anti-Christ. The one we’ve been waiting to battle for two thousand years.”
“Georg, your sense on these modern issues is much better than mine, tell me, what do you think we should be doing?”
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The GNP of the LSA followed the predicted formula anyone who’d studied economics already knew, the LSA suffered the marriage of socialist production practices, to socialist accounting and socialist employee practices. In order to meet the state-mandated employment rates, more people than are required to accomplish any task are hired, the workers soon realize that management faked the production numbers and costs in order to earn their bonuses. Workers pretended to assemble things that management pretended met the country’s printed quality standards. In this manner, their reports to the Gray House always met the goals mandated by President Reid. President Reid watched the news programs “talking heads” quickly adopt the Obsma is a Saint mantra. They added to the man’s legacy, each station trying to outdo their competitors. Networks ran a two hour long program telling the mostly made up story of Obsma’s life.
“President Reid, the Minister of Labor and Production is here to see you.”
“Thank you, please show him in.”
“Harold, thank you for seeing me.”
“Minister Blumenthal, thank you for coming, I understand you have some numbers for me? I hope there better than the last set of numbers you showed me.”
“Yes, the monthly numbers are in. They are looking better.”
“Sit, would you like something to drink?”
“No thank you Mr. President, the good news is the LSA had an unemployment rate of only 3.2% for last month.”
“Minister that is some of the best news I’ve had in a very long time. What’s the production numbers?”
“Sir, the combined production of the LSA achieved and surpassed the production goals as set by your office. Mr. President, I’m happy to report we reached 103% of our production goals.”
“Minister, that’s even better news. What about the defective rates. The web is reporting almost everything we build has a high defect rate. I’m told the number of recalled cars has exceeded 1 million in just the last 30 days. People are posting on social media sites that everything they buy either fails or falls apart as soon as they get the products home. Minister what’s the truth with these reports?”
“Mr. President, I’m sure you understand the massive change we’ve had to do. We’ve had to undertake a massive change in our core economy. We’ve had to reopen factories, create new ones and teach people who’ve never held a job how to assemble these products. I’m sure these are just start-up hiccups, everything will smooth out very shortly.”
“I hope for your sake they do. We can’t afford to have our people upset. We’re creating a worker's paradise in the LSA. In order for our people to be happy, they need to know the products they’re buying with their hard earned money are up to international quality standards.”
“Mr. President, they will be, all we need is a little bit more time.”
Chapter 8
The Situation Room is filled to overflowing; staffs are standing along the walls. President Brownstone decides to move the meeting to a larger room. “Ted, where’s a larger conference room we can get everyone seated?”
“Mr. President, the briefing room is large enough. The only issue we’ll have to deal with is, there are always press hanging around the briefing room in case a hot news item breaks.”
“Agent Jonosn, please invite the press hanging out in the briefing room to find someplace else to hang. I’d rather they not know why we’re taking over the room or who’s going to be attending the meeting.”
“Mr. President, not a problem, we’ll seal the area around the briefing room, no one will be able to get in or out. We’ll keep the press far away from the meeting.”
“Thank you agent. Everyone, we’re going to move to the briefing room where we can all be seated. The Secret Service is going to clear the room and the areas around it. I’d like Paul, Dave, Ted, Randy, Sarah and Rash to join me at the head table. I want everyone to get comfortable; we could be together for a while. Food and beverages will be provided. No one is going to able to leave until we reach a decision.
“I want to make one point very clear. There will be NO leaks of today’s discussion. Anyone leaking anything about the meeting will be arrested for breaching their NDA and for releasing Top Secret Sensitive Compartmented Information (TS SCI). Everyone here is cleared at Yankee White level (working directly with the President and Vice President) I will not accept any leaks. The FBI has authority to arrest anyone who leaks or breaches their oaths.”
A group of 275 people make their way to the briefing room, everyone gets conformable. The White House kitchen staff has set up large catering pots of coffee, water, and snacks along each side walls.
The front of the room is taken up with large white boards and 60” monitors. Paul moves to the podium, “Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us. We’ve completed our review of the case against President Brownstone and the USA.
“Our goal today is to review the case, reach agreement on the response. Once we’ve agreed, we’ll discuss the logistics of the filing, how The Hague operates, and our next steps.
“To do a quick review, the LSA announced they are filing a brief with the World Court at The Hague against President Brownstone for the murder of President Obsma. They are further claiming that the USA and President Brownstone did willingly create the blackout in New York City, causing hundreds of billions of dollars in damage and the loss of 87,465 lives. The LSA is asking for damages in the amount of $25 trillion to cover rebuilding costs, lost tax revenue and the loss of potential value of the lost souls. Of course, they want President Brownstone tried for murder in the first degree in the world court.”
Ted says, “There isn’t that much money in the world.”
“Mr. Vice President, you’re correct, so the LSA is asking the World Court to force the USA and LSA to merge, giving control of the country to President Reid.”
President Brownstone stands; he walks around the head table, “So that’s their end game. They want total control of the entire country.”
Paul nods, saying, “Yes Mr. President that’s what they’re after and frankly, their new claim that President Obsma was a Saint, and you killed him, will bring many of the religious to their side of the
argument. If the Pope backs their claim, we’ve lost. World opinion will back the Pope. The United Nations will be mobilized to force us to bend to the will of the people.”
“Why would Reid go down the religious path, everyone knows the LSA forbids all displays of religion. They are very similar to the old Soviet system.”
“Mr. President, Reid doesn’t want to make Obsma a Saint, he only wants to turn the world against you and the country so he can take over.”
“Paul, Dave what is the core of our defense?”
“Mr. President, Mr. Vice President, ladies and gentlemen, we did find a couple of items that I’m sure will interest you. In our research of President Obsma’s presidency, we came across a file that frankly shocked us. We think just the fact that we have it may cause President Reid to pause in their plans.”
President Brownstone looks up from sipping his coffee, “I’ll bite, did you find the paperwork that President Obsma was dropped off here by aliens?”
“Mr. President in a sort of way, yes we did.”
Every voice is silenced; everyone looks at Paul who continues, “We found President Obsma’s sealed files. They were to have been destroyed; someone didn’t destroy them, either they forgot them or they wanted the next administration to find them. We also thought it could be a trap. We had the Federal Court in DC issue warrants to Columbia and Harvard to unseal their records to see if they matched what we found.”
Ted, says, “Please cut to the chase, I’m dying to hear what you found.”
“Ted, we found his college records.”
The room explodes shouting. Everyone is yelling for attention;
“What did they say?”
“Who really was he?”
“What were his grades?”
“Did he really attend classes?”
Someone yells out, “Cut to the chase, where was he born?”
Dave responds, “Not in Hawaii.”
The room really goes crazy; half of the people are shocked into silence a third are cheering, and a third are yelling to get noticed.