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Saturday, March 27, 2010

JESUS H. CHRIST...! A FICTIONAL BLOG

QUOTE:

Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to
contrary points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive
language, political correctness, sex, or anything else
that may offend your sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness,
or if you're a minor (but by no means limited to the
aforementioned), please do not read this novel. It's not
for you...

Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described
here are imaginary: the settings, events and characters
are fictitious, and/or are the product of the author's
imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons (living or dead)
is entirely coincidental.


Copyright © 2007 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.





Jesus H. Christ...!: A Fictional Blog




Scene Seventeen of the serialization of “The Walls Have Ears: A Novel of America”



By F. Scott Sinclair


President Adolf S. Steinhart



It was getting warm in the Oval Office in the heat of argument
during our daily national security briefing put on by my chief
NSC advisor, Peter Higgins.

“Your buddy in Venezuela has our balls in a vise, sir.”

I sat straight up, and said, “What are you trying to say,
Peter? Out with it...!”

“Mr. President, I’m not trying to tell you anything. The
damn handwriting’s on the wall. President Sanchez is
shipping our captured CIA agents to parts unknown. But
our HUMIT intel on the ground has been able to penetrate
their inner circle, and it’s rumored that at least two or three
case officers are en route to The Hague.”

“Jesus H. Christ...! The Hague? What’s he think he’s doing,
putting me on trial?”

Peter’s brow was well-worn, the grooves of responsibility
showed like bones of a filleted fish being discarded into the
dumpster, as he says hesitantly, “That’s exactly what he’s
trying to do. Rumor has it; you’ll be put on trial in absentia,
Mr. President.”

“So what’s the infamous CIA doing about their blunder?”

“Blunder...?” Jason Carpenter, his assistant asked, sitting
on the edge of the couch as though he were about to attack
yours truly.

“Yes, blunder... If it wasn’t for those morons bungling of
the Iraq intel, I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m being accused of.”

Peter says, “The WMD’s?”

“More or less... Probably more, according to the latest
news accounts I’m privy to.”

“I thought you didn’t read newspapers, Mr. President?”

With a twinkle emerging behind my stern veneer, I asked,
“Perhaps that’s why you’re still Peter’s assistant. Do you
believe everything you read in the papers?”

Still stinging from the rebuke, Peter’s assistant says,
“No, sir. I didn’t mean—“

“I know precisely what you meant. You’re dismissed.”

I felt the tension in the air as Jason closed the door.

Fidgeting on the couch, Peter had something on his
mind. As he toyed with the ice water in his right hand, he
finally mustered-up enough courage to say what’s on his mind,
“So, you’re calling us a bunch morons?”

With a sinister smirk, I said, “Now you know how I feel
when folks from all walks of life insult my mentality.”

“True, sir. I mean, I understand where you’re coming from,
Mr. President. Insults put aside, I must brief you as to the
direction the CIA is going on this.”

“I’m all ears...”

I saw Peter’s Adam’s apple gulp, as he said, “Well,
I’ve been advised that they’re going to take a wait and see
attitude on the matter.”

I chuckled inwardly, trying to hide my dismay, and said,
“Great. Just great... Any imbecile can do that. A moron can
at least make an effort to give me some idea of the direction
they’ll be taking. But no, your so-called rocket scientists
haven’t even got the common sense of a moron.”

Peter raised his hand like a fifth grader, and says, “But—“

“But—But... I’ve had enough—buts—for one day. But I’ll
say this one time, so you’d better take this down pronto:
word for word, my friend. Tomorrow morning you’d better
have some answers. I want to know exactly what’s going on,
and what attempts are being made to intercept them before
they reach The Hague.”

Rubbing his forearms as though he was anxiety stricken,
he says, “I do have a few details, Mr. President.”

“Holding out on me again, huh? You know that makes
me mad, Peter. Don’t you...?”

With his tail literally between his legs, and a noticeably
dry mouth dangling from the hinges of his jaws, he says,
“Okay, Mr. President, I didn’t want to worry you at this
juncture, but you’re pushing me into a corner.”

“Am I...?”

“Um. Yeah, you are... But have it your way, sir. The
skinny on this is that President Sanchez has leased ten 747’s
from different countries in order to prevent us from
discovering which airline they’re transporting our agents
to The Hague on. Even if we discover which airliner they’re
on, we’ll have a helluva price to pay if we attack one of our
allies planes. We could ask permission, but they’re unlikely to
give us the go ahead. And before you ask the question, I
want you to know that all the planes are already in Venezuela.
The pilots have been removed and replaced by Venezuelan
pilots. The pilots will accompany their planes to The Hague
in a hostage capacity, then they’ll be freed and allowed to fly
their planes back home if everything turns out alright. So
putting pressure on our allies is out the window.”

Seeing the options that my adviser tried to hide from me
now staring me in the face, I became flushed at the implications
of the situation my eternal enemy, President Humberto
Sanchez, had placed me in. I said, “Are you sure that our
agents will be on one of those planes?”

“I wish I could say that with all certainty. But I’m not at
all that certain, Mr. President. Since the cat’s out of the bag,
I guess you won’t have to wait until tomorrow morning for
the answers to your questions, sir. This is what we propose to do...”

“And what’s that?” I said, listening intently, trying to
put my best foot forward....

*****************************************************************
QUOTE:

COMMENT: INSTALLMENT 10 IS NOW ONLINE...

INSTALLMENT 10 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

******************************************************************
QUOTE:


Late Night Political Jokes - Late Night Jokes Updated Daily

***********************************************

QUOTE:

A CONVENIENT (I HOPE) TABLE OF CONTENTS OF
F. SCOTT SINCLAIR'S NOVELS

Comment: Installments five, six, seven, eight and nine of
F. Scott's latest serialized novel are currrently online for
your reading pleasure.

INSTALLMENT 9 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

INSTALLMENT 8 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

INSTALLMENT 7 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

INSTALLMENT 6 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

INSTALLMENT 5 OF "THE SUN ALSO SETS...AMERICA":
THE LATEST SERIALIZED NOVEL BY F. SCOTT SINCLAIR

********************************************************

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Does Charles Krauthammer Agree With Novelist F. Scott Sinclair?

Thursday, March 11, 2010


Quote:

Copyright (C) 2010 by Novelist F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.

Mr. Krauthammer agrees with F. Scott on one thing. He believes that
a national sales tax or VAT tax could become necessary, and might
be an issue in the future when ObamaCare becomes too expensive
to fund by tradition means of taxation. Charles Krauthammer made
this point on the Bill O'Reilly show when asked about what impact
the new health care law would have on Americans in the future.

Are you upset about the deficits, the spending, the unemployment
rate, health care, etc.? Well, you're not the only one. So, let's have
a look.

At first glance, the new health care law is imperiled and could be
ruled as unconstitutional because of the mandate(s) citing that
everyone must buy health care insurance or be levied a
tax and/or fines by the IRS. In order to beef-up the IRS
enforcement capabilities to regulate and collect
such revenues and fines, the IRS will need another 16,000
agents. Why so many agents? Because the IRS will be
ensuring compliance by checking to see that everybody
is covered and that they're paying their premiums timely
on a monthly basis, besides ensuring that each citizen
has adequate insurance per the regulations.

Instead of IRS involvement, I believe it would be better
to impose a national VAT tax or a national sales tax in
order to circumvent such IRS intrusion, and to skirt any
legal challenges on the matter of the constitutionality of
the new health care law, i.e.- the mandate(s) issue.
As will be stated below: nobody will have to contribute
any money in order to have health care unless they buy
something: food, merchandise, services, etc. Hence, there
would be no IRS involvement. States would collect the
money and deposit it in a national pool and the required
premiums paid out to private insurance companies. No
more premiums from citizens and the IRS is kept out of
the picture. Every citizen would be automatically covered
and their premiums paid for by such national sales tax,
and/or VAT tax.

Currently, President Obama wants to lead the nation
in another direction. That's all right if you're hell-bent
on financially, destroying our country, not to mention
our current health care system: which is the envy of
the world.

How do we create a health care system that allows
coverage for all, where preexisting conditions are
automatically covered, tort reform is introduced,
no caps on benefits, that spurs competition, and
lots more?

It's simple.

How's that...?

Create a new VAT tax, or a national sales (health) tax.

You're kiddin' me, right?

Nope. Just "find an acceptable percentage" that pays
for the total cost of health care.

But that's not fair...!

Think again, the health care VAT tax would cover
premiums for every citizen. Thus, the poor, those
in-between, and the rich alike would pay the 1% to 5%
(+ or-) VAT tax on all purchases that would cover all
premiums. You choose your provider, the government
pays the premiums from the health care VAT tax trust
fund. Why continue soaking the rich, the middle-class,
businesses (corporations to small businesses), governments
(federal, state, local), or individuals, etc. with ever soaring
premium costs? What's the bottom line? No more premiums
to be paid, everyone's covered, it'll free-up anywhere from
$2,500 to somewhere around $18,000 (+ or -) of premium
obligations per family, that can now be spent on merchandise,
services, new businesses, new employees, etc. that will
revive our economy. In other words, have fun shopping
until you drop, and paying for your health care at the
same time. The icing on the cake: large and small companies
(corporations, etc.) would have lots of money available for
expansion, pay raises, acquisitions, development, to hire
new employees, etc. Not to bad, huh?

The government, businesses, NGO's, etc. would sit down
to negotiate how much yearly premiums should be with
private insurance companies. And all of the premiums
would be paid out of the health care VAT trust fund, as
I mentioned above.

Poor people would pay far less because their purchasing
power is limited, and the rich would pay their fair share
because they have unlimited purchasing power. Anyone
who doesn't want to contribute, then they simply don't
buy anything. They may starve in the process, but that's
their right because food shouldn't be exempt from the tax.
Those who can afford caviar, so be it. And those who can
only buy beans, so be it. But both receive the same quality
health care. That doesn't mean that a rich person can't
seek out the best doctor's in the world at their own expense.
They can, but the least among us will also receive excellent
care.

Medical travel would be encouraged to reduce health care
costs. What...? Yup, because the cost of health care
overseas is in many cases equal to or better than
Americans can receive stateside. Only approved hospitals,
which should have a couple of overseers (Americans) who
certify the authenticity of claims, approve the cost of
services, etc. would be covered under the plan. Travel
to and from such locations, would be borne by the patient.

How does this plan help the economy? That's easy. Small
businesses, corporations like GM, etc. wouldn't have to
pay for health care for their employees which takes
a very big burden off their shoulders, a burden that
bankrupted GM. Remember, GM paid around $1,500
per car for insurance for each of their employees and
retirees. In addition, the health care VAT tax would
help our exports by making our goods more price
competitive overseas by reducing health care costs
which automatically reduces the COGS (the cost of
goods sold) of our exports.

What about the unemployment problem? No problem.
With more money in each Americans pocket every
month because they no longer are on the hook for
outrageous health care premiums, they'll have more
money to spend. When folks have more money to
spend, that creates demand: hence, jobs. And with
more doctors needed, as well as nurses, physician
assistants, etc., good paying technical jobs will be
needed which will also help reduce the rolls of the
unemployed.

It's a win-win proposition.

If a moron like me can come up with a half-assed
plan like this: what are the geniuses in Congress
waiting for...? Or for that matter, what's the excuse
of the Harvard trained folks at the helm? I'm a moron,
that's my excuse for not implementing this plan. What's
their excuse, the geniuses running the show, tell me that?

Nuff said. I'm just trying to help. Take care.

Sincerely,

Novelist F. Scott Sinclair

***************************************************
Quote:

A CONVENIENT (I HOPE) TABLE OF CONTENTS OF
SCOTT SINCLAIR'S NOVELS

**************************************************

Sunday, March 14, 2010

THE THRONE: A FICTIONAL BLOG

QUOTE:


Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to
contrary points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive
language, political correctness, sex, or anything else
that may offend your sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness,
or if you're a minor (but by no means limited to the
aforementioned), please do not read this novel. It's not
for you...

Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described here
are imaginary: the settings, events and characters
are fictitious, and/or are the product of the author's
imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons (living or dead)
is entirely coincidental.



Copyright © 2007 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.


The Throne: A Fictional Blog


Installment Sixteen of the Serialization of "The Walls Have Ears:
A Novel of America"


By F. Scott Sinclair


CIA Case Officer Julie Duffy


Being a prisoner in someone else’s country—like here
in Venezuela—isn’t exactly a Caribbean holiday vacation.
The filthy ten by twelve cell I’ve been confined to is
getting smaller by the minute. I crawled to the so-called
throne: the toilet. I felt my gut wrench spasmodically as
I sat on the makeshift toilet—a wooden apple box with a
hole in it—as I gasped for air...grimacing after the pause
that refreshes. Before I could put myself back together
using the leaflike tissue my captors had so graciously
provided in lieu of a roll of 2-ply toilet paper, the rusted
cell door that imprisoned me suddenly burst open.

As the halogen lights spewed their high-powered beams
upon me and the throne I straddled, I was greeted by my
favorite torturer, Colonel Ramirez, who said cheerfully,
“Well, my dear, what do we have here?”

Flakes of rust from the cell door floated in the
air...drifting downward, and landed on the colonel’s shoes.

Ashamed of being caught in a private moment, I said,
“Can’t a girl have any privacy?”

Rolling his curly black mustache at the tips, Colonel
Ramirez says, “How do you like the fruits of others labors, my dear?”

Bewildered, I couldn’t fathom what he was referring
to, as I said, “Excuse me...?”

“Is that all you liberated women can say? Excuse fucking me?!”

As I pulled up my torn red underpants, trying to make
myself presentable, I quipped, “Fucking is a part of my
CIA lexicon. So, fuck you...!”

His buddy, Lt. Perez, grabbed my shoulder, halting my
frail body’s forward progress, and sneers, “He wasn’t talking
about that crude behavior between males and females
that makes the world go ‘round...”

“Crude, you call it? True. Because the better part of you
ran down your mother’s leg, sweetheart.”

“How does that feel?!”

My breath was gone. As I grasped, grabbing my solar
plexus, I slid down to the cold concrete wheezing for air
with a whining sound.

“That’s enough, Lt. Perez! The CIA’s star pupil is
about to take a trip.”

“A star witness is more like it!”

“You’d better keep your well-oiled trap in the locked
position, if you know what’s good for you.”

The colonel bent down and grasped my beltless fatigues,
lifting half of my body by the small of my back. “That should
help jump start your breathing. I’ve had the wind knocked
of me on more than one occasion.”

Grateful for the modest show of concern, I said, “Thanks.
I know you didn’t have to do that.”

Astonishingly, the colonel had moist eyes. Only for
a nanosecond, but I was sure I’d caught a glimpse of a
decent human being who’d no doubt been tortured
himself, or knew someone who had been.

“There’s someone outside who wants to see you. Make
up with your comrade because where you two are going,
that’s all you'll have: yourselves.”

Before I could reply, I saw a broken man limping
into my cell. Ken Kendall’s tattered and blood stained
garments were barely hanging on to his weedy frame.
How a couple of weeks could change a person. Unbelievable...!
I couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking about
me, as I said, “Ken, my God, I can’t believe it’s you!”

As he knelt down, I dragged my scrawny ass next
to him. “Colonel, may we have some privacy?”

Lt. Perez opened his mouth, then thought twice about
it...closing his mouth. With Colonel Ramirez’s eyes
bestowed upon him he relented. He never uttered a
single word.

“Lt. Perez,” the colonel said with creases on his
forehead, “don’t you have business elsewhere?”

After shielding his eyes from the intense halogen lights,
he eyeballed the stark interior of the cell...shrugged his
shoulders dutifully. He simply shook his head as he
turned around, departing like a scolded child.

Tasting the salty blood from the festering sores on
my arms as I tried to wipe the sweat off my face, I
couldn’t sit-up any longer. Both of our debilitated bodies
almost melted into the grimy surface of the concrete floor.

Colonel Ramirez shook his graying black hair, and says,
“You’ll have one hour; that’s it, before we depart for the Hague...”

Spontaneously, we said together, “The Hague...?”

Our eyes and ears were glued on Colonel Ramirez.

Without another word...only a nod, he left us alone to
speculate upon our destiny.

As the rusty and creaky hinged cell door closed behind
the colonel, I asked, “What are the charges...?”

Ken’s chapped lips parted slowly, as he spoke with
great effort, “Don’t be silly...”

“They’re playing our game, huh?”

Leaning uncomfortably on his right elbow which had
a bloody and tattered shirtsleeve covering his wounds of
torture, he says wincing, “C’mon, Julie, let’s get real. Do
you think our government gives a shit about the Geneva
Conventions?”

“Meaning...?”

“Meaning, they’ll file charges regardless of the truth.
That’s how governments work whether Communist, Socialist,
Capitalists, or whatever... Don’t tell me that you believe
all the bullshit our government propagandizes us with?
Freedom, liberty, democracy, free speech, the Constitution,
the Bill of Rights, habeas corpus and all that crap went
down the shitter when Congress in its infinite wisdom
passed the Military Commissions Act of 2006. Boy, you’re
more na├»ve than I thought.”

“Guess I’ve been playing “Cops and Robbers” for
too long, my friend.”

Taking a large gulp of air, and swallowing my Adam’s
apple in shame, I felt a surge of hatred engulf my inner
soul. I’d bought the propaganda, hook, line and sinker.
Remembering how my colleagues used to kid me about
being a robot: an average American Joe Lemming. I’d
believe anything I was told by my superiors and
government. Well, I bought the farm alright—the
propaganda—and now I’m about to walk off the
proverbial cliff into the frying pan.

My sour puss rose slightly, as our filthy faces met
and acknowledged our plight. How could we expect to
be treated any differently than those detainees we’d
beaten into submission at our secret torture chambers
spread all over the world? What goes around comes around....

**********************************************************
QUOTE:

Late Night Political Jokes - Late Night Jokes Updated Daily

***********************************************

QUOTE:

A CONVENIENT (I HOPE) TABLE OF CONTENTS OF
F. SCOTT SINCLAIR'S NOVELS

**********************************************************

Thursday, March 11, 2010

This is what health care should look like, in a nutshell.

Quote:


Copyright (C) 2010 by Novelist F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.



The Health Care Fiasco


Are you upset about the deficits, the spending, the unemployment rate, health care, etc.? Well, you're not the only one. So, let's have a look.

President Obama wants to lead the nation in another direction. That's all right if you're hell-bent on financially, destroying our country, not to mention our current health care system: the envy of the world.

How do we create a health care system that allows coverage for all, where preexisting conditions are automatically covered, tort reform is introduced, no caps on benefits, spurs competition, and lots more?

It's simple.

How's that...?

Create a new VAT tax, or a national health tax.

You're kiddin' me, right?

Nope. Just "find an acceptable percentage" that pays for the total cost of health care.

But that's not fair...!

Think again, the health care VAT tax would cover premiums for every citizen. Thus, the poor, those in-between, and the rich alike would pay the 1% to 5% (+ or-) VAT tax on all purchases that would cover all premiums. You choose your provider, the government pays the premiums from health care VAT tax. Why continue soaking the rich, the middle-class, businesses (corporations to small businesses), governments (federal, state, local), or individuals, etc. with ever soaring premium costs. The government, businesses, NGO's, etc. would sit down to negotiate how much yearly premiums should be with private insurance companies. And all of the premiums would be paid out of the health care VAT trust fund, as I mentioned above.

Poor people would pay far less because their purchasing power is limited, and the rich would pay their fair share because they have unlimited purchasing power. Anyone who doesn't want to contribute, then they simply don't buy anything. They may starve in the process, but that's their right because food shouldn't be exempt from the tax. Those who can afford caviar, so be it. And those who can only buy beans, so be it. But both receive the same quality health care. That doesn't mean that a rich person can't seek out the best doctor's in the world at their own expense. They can, but the least among us will also receive excellent care.

Medical travel would be encouraged to reduce health care costs. What...? Yup, because the cost of health care overseas is in many cases equal to or better than Americans can receive stateside. Only approved hospitals, which should have a couple of overseers (Americans) who certify the authenticity of claims, approve the cost of services, etc. would be covered under the plan. Travel to and from such locations, would be borne by the patient.

How does this plan help the economy? That's easy. Small businesses, corporations like GM, etc. wouldn't have to pay for health care for their employees which takes a very big burden off their shoulders, a burden that bankrupted GM. Remember, GM paid around $1,500 per car for insurance for each of their employees and retirees. In addition, the health care VAT tax would help our exports by making our goods more price competitive overseas by reducing health care costs which automatically reduces the COGS (the cost of goods sold) of our exports.

What about the unemployment problem? No problem. With more money in each Americans pocket every month because they no longer are on the hook for outrageous health care premiums, they'll have more money to spend. When folks have more money to spend, that creates demand: hence, jobs. And with more doctors needed, as well as nurses, physician assistants, etc., good paying technical jobs will be needed which will also help reduce the rolls of the unemployed.

It's a win-win proposition.

If a moron like me can come up with a half-assed plan like this: what are the geniuses in Congress waiting for...? Or for that matter, what's the excuse of the Harvard trained folks at the helm? I'm a moron, that's my excuse for not implementing this plan. What's their excuse, the geniuses running the show, tell me that?

Nuff said. I'm just trying to help. Take care.

Sincerely,

Novelist F. Scott Sinclair

***************************************************
Quote:

A CONVENIENT (I HOPE) TABLE OF CONTENTS OF
SCOTT SINCLAIR'S NOVELS

***************************************************

Thursday, March 04, 2010

Put Up or Shut up...!

Quote:

Copyright (C) 2010 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.

OpEd

Part 2: The Health Care Fiasco


President Obama, and others, state that it costs $1,000 per
insured person to pay for those who don't have health
insurance and choose to use hospital emergency rooms
instead of primary care physicians. And we want to
completely overhaul (ruin) our health care system because
of those who don't have health insurance and are forced to
use the nation's emergency rooms? A ludicrous notion at
best. Why is that? Because all you have to do (if Obama,
et al aren't lying to us) is have the insurance premiums
now in effect frozen at their current levels, and order
the insurance companies to hand over $1,000 from each
of their policyholder's premiums to fund the uninsured
in a special pool that all insurance companies must be a
part of. And by immediately freezing insurance premiums,
the private insurance companies can't arbitrarily pass
the $1,000 cost onto their customers: us. Hence, if it is
true...that $1,000 dollars of our premiums are going to
help pay for the uninsured, then let's call their (Obama's,
et al's) bluff...if it's a bluff. Now that's a measure that
won't cost a dime of additional taxes (if they're telling
us the truth) because we're all already paying the $1, ooo
dollar premium(s) already: it's factored into your
yearly premiums already (according to Obama), and
then tax the super rich their fair share: end of problem,
including the pre-existing illness issue, etc.

The bottom line: all the government has to do is set up
a few basic rules to contain costs and premium rate
increases, address tort reform, pre-existing illnesses,
portability, interstate competition, etc...nothing more.
Let the private sector work within those guidelines,
and the customers will pay less and carry the freight
(as it's doing now, not the government: us, the taxpayers)
to maintain the system we have right now. But with
price controls and all the other things mentioned above,
the health care system will remain as it is now, but in
an improved fashion. A fairer system for all. Even
those who are fined for not buying insurance will be
given basic health insurance equal to the value of
their fine. That's an altruistic approach to health
care, not a punitive one.

Just another idea (for what it's worth) to try to
stop the intense conflict over the health care
overhaul, in an attempt to provide constructive
thoughts on a difficult problem. Thank you for
your time and consideration given to this matter.

Sincerely,

Novelist F. Scott Sinclair

Monday, March 01, 2010

A ROUGH DAY AT THE OFFICE: THE WHITE HOUSE--A FICTIONAL BLOG

QUOTE:


Copyright © 2007 by F. Scott Sinclair. All Rights Reserved.


A Rough Day at the Office: The White House—A Fictional Blog


Scene Fifteen of the Serialization of "The Walls Have Ears:
A Novel of America"


Warning: If you are easily shocked with regard to contrary
points of view, conspiracy theories, offensive language, political
correctness, sex, or anything else that may offend your
sensibilities or lack of open-mindedness, or if you're a minor
(but by no means limited to the aforementioned), please do
not read this novel.It's not for you...

Note: This is a work of fiction. The events described here
are imaginary: the settings, events, locales and characters are
fictitious, and/or are the product of the author's imagination
or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events
or locales or persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.





President Adolf S. Steinhart



Geez, what a helluva day. My secretary said the phones
were ringing off their cradles all day. I reminded her that
that’s what she gets for following me to the White House.
All in a day’s work. Her eyes were propped up like a couple
of daggers about ready to lodge themselves between
yours truly’s ribs.

As my thoughts meandered about like ping pong balls
ricocheting off a basement wall, I arrived home a minute or
two after departing the Oval Office. I saluted the Marine
guard and shook the hand of the Secret Service agent who
provided a valuable service: keeping me alive for the
remainder of my tenure at the White House.

As the oak door with its sparkling brass hinges opened,
I said, “Thank you, gentlemen. Keep up the good work.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” they said in unison, as the Marine
raised his rifle chest high, snapping his heels together
simultaneously.

“At ease gentlemen…,” I said, closing the door behind me.

With her glamorous smile and electric eyes, the First
Lady says, “Good evening, Mr. President.”

“For a couple of more years, then it’s back to the homestead.”

The First Lady said, “Yes, that’s true, dear. And that’s
where you belong, don’t you think?”

Smitten with awe, I quipped, “In Paraguay…?”

“So you’ve heard those rumors too, huh? Whether it’s
Paraguay, or back to the ranch, that’s where you really
belong, and you know it, don’t you?” Her beaming eyes
brightened even more, as my dearest began reading my
mind…as always.

With my customary smirk and a smooch, I said, “Well,
considering I’ve spent more time at the farm than I’ve
spent here at our second home—you’re probably right.”

“Probably right…?”

“Okay, don’t rub it in… It’s not like I’m not reminded
of this fact on a daily basis.”

The lady of my dreams says, “Now, that’s my husband.
Not at all like the description of him I’ve seen in the tabloids
and elsewhere. If I were to take those folks seriously, I’d
think I was married to a moron who resembles a chimp. And
a stubborn chimp at that. Or is the First Lady somehow able
to penetrate the veneer of this sensitive man who stands
before her, that she knows is really a pussycat?”

“I won’t answer that. Okay…? Today’s been another bitch
of a day.”

“Care to enlighten me? Or is everything a secret as I’ve
been led to believe by the tabloids…and rumor mills?”

My boss sat next to me on the couch as I grabbed the
remote and flicked the channel to my favorite news source.
The commentator looked like a fox in sheep’s clothing with
his spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, and says,
“President Steinhart has put the final nail in the country’s coffin—“

Outraged, I shouted, “That’s a goddamn lie…!”

Before I could finish, my dearest pulled me back to the
couch, and said, “Don’t take it so personally. I’ve told you
this a thousand times. When are you going to take my advice?
You have no control over what other people say. That’s their right…”

Fuming, I said, “Watch me…!”

“I have… And I don’t like what I’ve seen.”

Demoralized, I couldn’t listen to more criticism.

As I started to regain my composure, the commentator
says, “What’s the final nail in the coffin? President Steinhart
has deliberately defied a measure placed into law forbidding
the U.S. Postal Service from opening your mail without a
warrant. Yes, that’s right, the president has endorsed another
signing statement allowing federal authorities to open Americans
mail without a warrant. With the enactment of the Military
Commissions Act, we are officially a bona fide fascist police
state.”

“For Christ sake, I’ll have that bastard behind bars…so help
me God!”

“Care for some dinner? Your favorite: chicken and dumplings.”

I turned and stared at this magnificent creature that
I’ve always adored, and said, “You always know when to
change the subject, don’t you?”

With her head laid back on the soft pastel cushion of the
couch, she says, “Are you going to read my mail, too?”

“Well, of course… Actually, that’s why I signed the statement
so I could intercept your mail.”

“Are you that jealous of my activities, you’d violate the
Constitution?”

“Listen dear; it’s just a goddamn piece of paper…”

“And our marriage certificate…?” she said, wrapping her
arms around the neck of her impervious man.

“Good point… What about it?”

Seeing the moisture in her eyes, I leaned forward kissing
her on the forehead.

“Sorry, my dear. I was just being playful. Don’t be upset, I
should have thought twice before opening my mouth.”

With an almost instinctive rebuttal, my dearest says, “And
the Iraq war…and the nearly two-thirds of a million dead souls?
Shouldn’t you have thought twice before disobeying the most
sacred vow of any Christian?”

Astonished, I was spellbound. “And what’s that…?”

“Thou shall not kill, or have you forgotten?”

Ashamed and humbled by my most treasured critic and
confidant, I was rendered speechless: almost that is… But I
had a confession to make…or rather a pronouncement to make.
With my sweaty palms, and thin lips parted, I said, “You don’t
happen to have a few trillion bucks in your purse, do you,
my dear?”

“Now that you mention it, I do… Would 4.5 trillion be alright?”

Her eyes twinkled with a joy abounding in them that
reminded me of the early days of our marriage. It seemed
like the First Lady was being playful, and I said, “Care to
enlighten your, President? I mean: Who are your sources?
Or better said: resources, my dear?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you: Your second in command, and
what's his name from Treasury, are coming for dinner. And
they're bringing along a friend, an ambassador, I think. Or
did they mention a famous missionary? Sorry. Not sure,
my dear."

Shocked, I nearly collapsed. Terror shivered throughout
my cold veins making the frog in my throat throb with
anxiety. How’d she know about the impending economic
and potential political crisis?! Shaking my head in disbelief,
my mind was fixated on: How'd she know...?

With a shy smile, and deceitful but appetizing eyes—almost
childlike—the First Lady says, “Just kiddin’ dear. I know
how you hate to mix work and pleasure.”

She doesn’t know…?! Thank God for small favors, and
indeed I will thank the Lord before the night's over. My day
had been ruined by those two already, I sure as hell didn’t
need to bring my problems at work to the damn dinner table.
How'd she know about the ambassador, or did she? Perhaps,
it's a coincidence. Maybe she meant missionary, but wasn't
sure. But my old man didn't believe in: coincidence. Oh well,
never second guess the wife. I've been burnt before, or
roasted...is more like it, for trying to penetrate the female
mind--which is off limits. I should know better, but nobody ever
said I was a fast learner...

Before I could reply to the good news that I’d be having a
romantic dinner with my one and only, there was a ring at the
door. My boss says, “It’s time to eat…!”

Seeing her raised brow and reassuring smile, I said,
“Sure. Dinner it is.”

With the lights dimmed, I reflected on those insightful
Christian words of admonishment, and in turn, gazed at
the image of the lovely Christian author of the advice.
Incredible! I thought. Such a woman…is all I could think
of at a time like this. As the candle’s light reflected off the
silhouette of the First Lady, I promised myself to consider
those words of wisdom, and what it means to be a Born Again
Christian. But, in the meantime, my hormones were revving
themselves up. Glory be to God…!

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Late Night Political Jokes - Late Night Jokes Updated Daily

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A CONVENIENT (I HOPE) TABLE OF CONTENTS OF
SCOTT SINCLAIR'S NOVELS



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