Don’t know why, just couldn’t fall asleep last night. Maybe it was that Aussie wine they served at the reception. Can you imagine that? Serving Australian wine at a reception for a sitting United States Senator? Good thing we weren’t in California!
Anyway, about 3 o’clock I thought I heard a noise, but before I could even sit up, I realized he was sitting next to my bed, reading fairy tales. Can you imagine that? Mike had followed me home. I guess he must have slipped into the garage before I put the door down, and now he’s in my bedroom, calm as anything, reading one of those fantasies we used to discuss in civics class in first or second grade. No, third grade. It was in third grade. I was in the advanced class.
“Senator!” (Sound dumb? Yeah, well, wait until you wake up with an Appointed One–your Dream Boat!–sitting right next to you at 3 a.m.!)
“Yes, my child, just stay calm. I won’t hurt you. What can I do for you? What can I tell you?”
“Ah, Senator, did you drop that money on the floor? I’m sure it isn’t mine! I can’t remember the last time I had a $100 bill! Why, I can’t remember the last time I had $100.”
“Never mind that. Money doesn’t matter. I’m here now, right here in Estes Park, errr, Berthoud. Sorry. I’m looking out for your good. And don’t worry…those coyotes are a long way off! Plus, the Scarsdale Police can take care of them.”
“Scarsdale?”
“Don’t worry. Just a little inside joke.”
“Well, Senator, I was tossing and turning and worrying…about my job, and my income, and whether I’ll still have a job if people keep having to move out of their houses ’cause of being unemployed and all, you know. And it seems like you know a whole lot about banking, being on the Banking Committee and all. Is everything going to be all right Senator?”
“Oh, my child! Is that all it is? Now, you just relax and don’t worry your little head. Phil knows all about about these things, and what’s best for everyone, and I learned a lot from him, plus he’s always there, or his friends are always there, to help me if I have any questions–about how to vote and all.”
“Phil?”
“You know, Anshutz.”
“Oh. The rich guy? Is he the one who advises you on how to vote on the Banking Committee?”
“Well, not just him, of course. There are lots of guys I can meet after work in Washington to help explain things to me. Like how important it is that smart bankers get back onto the B-track.”
“B-track? I don’t think I’ve heard of that…”
“That’s what they call the route to becoming a billionaire. Ten million here, twenty there… it eventually adds up, you know.”
“Oh.”
“And, you know, no one can expect every collatoralized debt equity to turn out equally. That’s why people sell short and long at the same time, only on different accounts, of course. But it’s all okay, ’cause the government is there to protect ’em, you know, sort of like FDIC, only for big boys and in bigger amounts. Not to worry.”
“Oh, I guess I see. I’m beginning to feel better.
“By the way, Senator, I for one can’t believe that Andrew Romanoff, still challenging you for the nomination! The nerve of him! Doesn’t Rahm Emanuel have his telephone number?”
“I don’t know, deary, maybe he doesn’t answer to the White House. But you shouldn’t worry. The White House knows best. As soon as they take care of the New York senate race, they’ll have time to explain things to … what’s his name? Romanoff? Wasn’t he the one who thought politicians should get elected before they put on the crown? You can see how hopeless some people are!”
“Ohhhh, I’m suddenly so sleepy. What was in that wine glass?”
“Never mind, dear, you had a good time at the party, didn’t you? Don’t worry. I have your best interests at heart.”
And then this morning, all gone. Feel great. Just rinse that wine glass, then off to work.
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wore off sometime after four, and the still morning darkness made me conjure up some starkness into my head. Which felt like it was full of chopped brown paper.
Nonetheless this fuzzy inclination took form, and there before me was the former House Speaker, himself, trying to sooth my sore points. “It should have been ours, bro. It should have been ours.”
Vaguely uncomfortable with R’s familiarity, and his 00’s surfer persona was weirdly out of place, now–in 2010–a new decade and such, I still almost nodded. It had been a surprising pick, but now that other guy was Senator, doing pretty well, no progressive savior but then no one really recalled Mr. R being that either…still, it was all soooo fuzzy. Remind me again that my head is not a canister of whipping cream.
“Trust me, pardner,” R said with a wink, “I can make 57 other Democrats and two Independents, even Bad Li’l Joe, behave and enact the progressive revolution you have long dreamed of. Lay your befuddled head down on this pillow, and just remember–‘the People’s choice.’
I awoke in sheer horror that I had missed the bus.
Forks. More forks.
I just skim your posts to get to the words “Senator” or “Mikey”. Surely, there is more to your life than trashing this one guy.
The most fascinating mind, most insightful writer, on the Web, if not in the Western world, and I can’t attract her attention. Guess I’d better stop using the word Senator. Thanks for enlightening me, letting us all know, really, on what you’re just skimming rather than reading, studying, contemplating. But hey, you’re a busy body, so maybe I can help you with this thought: don’t bother skimming, reading, or writing JO; most don’t! I’ll still be crushed, naturally, but you’ll be free! Free! FREE!
Set me free, O set me free
To go and piss up a tree.
I’ll order some wine right off of the vine-
O, O, Oh!
I can never spell right when I drunk post.
Vine, vino, al vino, etc. … in the above.
Club Twitty was rather witty. I find N…errr, Peacemonger, to be just slow, in thought and expression, an opinion she has long known under whatever name she’s currently posting, in whoever’s suburban bar.
I’ll stop now.
Stop.
we’re all Democrats now.
are being put to good use.