Political Satire: Having trouble surviving these times? You’re not alone. Join us in columnist John F. Di Leo’s exploration of an alternate universe, where we imagine the impossible:
Joe Buckstop, an aging, corrupt old fool, somehow becomes president in his basement, and every night, in these early months of his “administration,” an aide has to bring him his soup and discuss the events of the day as he prepares to receive his nightly meds…
Dateline, February 16. Begin Transcript:
“Good evening, boss! I hear you had a busy day in Wisconsin today, huh?”
“Huh? Oh, yes. Wisconsin. I think that’s where I was. We did one of those things.”
“I… beg your pardon?”
“A clown tall.”
“Pardon, sir?”
“Down Mall?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Darth Maul?”
“I don’t think you’re even close, sir.”
“What was it… Found Stall?”
“Perhaps you’re thinking of a town hall, sir?”
“That’s it!”
“How did it go, sir?”
“It was cold.”
“Oh, unfriendly audience, huh, sir?”
“No, it was just COLD! It was freezing out there.”
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose it would be. Milwaukee in February, huh?”
“Yup. Cold, cold night.”
“Sir, umm, if you don’t mind my asking, sir… whose idea was it to fly you to an appearance in Milwaukee during a blizzard in February, sir?”
“Kamala, why?”
“Oh, just curious, sir.”
“Man, it was cold.”
“Well, it would be, sir. You were at the Pabst Theatre, sir.”
“Really? Funny. They never told me the name. If it was Pabst’s theatre, wouldn’t you think they would have given me a beer?”
“Well, sir, it’s not associated with the beer, sir.”
“But it’s named after the beer!”
“Something tells me you’re not the first to notice that, sir.”
“Hmm….I thought everything in Milwaukee was associated with beer!”
“Umm, well, not exactly… Mr Pabst donated the money to build the theatre, that’s all. As primary donor, they named it after him. But it’s not like it was part of the brewery.”
“Darn. That’s a pity. But I wonder why it was so darned cold….”
“You were in Milwaukee in February, sir. What more of an explanation do you need?”
“Well, wouldn’t the ocean keep it warmer? The ocean always keeps us warmer, in Delaware…”
“Uh, Milwaukee isn’t on an ocean, sir. It’s on a lake.”
“What’s the difference? Big body of water, right?”
“Well sir, umm.. the ocean has a stabilizing effect on temperature, but the great lakes are all in the north, they can’t really help because they all get cold. And it’s a bit further north than you’re used to, sir.”
“Oh, north, huh?”
“Yes sir. Like on a compass.”
“I had a compass when I was a boy. I grew up in Scranton. Did you know I grew up in Scranton?”
“Yes sir, you’ve mentioned it.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, I had a compass. When I was little. But then I lost it.”
“You lost your compass, sir?”
“Yup. I lost my compass years ago.”
“Something tells me you’re not the first to recognize that either, sir.”
“Hey, I’m hungry. Did you bring me any soup?”
“Yes sir, I set it down on your desk when I arrived, sir. But it was really hot, so I’m sure it hasn’t cooled down at all.”
“Oh, goody. What is it tonight?”
“Mardi Gras Gumbo, sir. One of my favorite soups, sir. Shrimp and sausage, peppers and celery, different kinds of onions… can’t beat a good gumbo.”
“What did you say it was called again, son?”
“Mardi Gras Gumbo, sir. Today’s the holiday. It’s Mardi Gras. So we figured Mardi Gras Gumbo would make sense.”
“I thought that was just in the south, like New Orleans?”
“No, sir, you can make the soup anywhere. Pretty popular recipe, sir.”
“No, I mean the holiday. Isn’t it always Mardi Gras in New Orleans?”
“Uh, well, not always, sir… it’s only Mardi Gras one day a year, sir… the day before Ash Wednesday….. although I think in some communities, they expand the carnival to last a week or two… probably for tourism.”
“That’s it, now I remember! Tourism! I was in New Orleans once at Mardi Gras as a Tourist!”
“I can’t say I’m surprised, sir.”
“Did you know they have the coolest traditions down there? You buy these bags of cheap strings of beads – really cheap – and you just walk down the streets in the nightlife neighborhoods, and you look up at the balconies and the porches and the open windows, and…”
“Oh my, well, look at the time, sir. I think I need to get back to work, sir.”
“Oh? This is a good story, though. See, you buy these bags of beads, and then …”
“Yes sir. Tell me next Mardi Gras. Something tells me you have some thank-you notes to write to your hosts in Milwaukee, sir.”
“Oh, good idea. I’ll do that. Right after I eat this soup. You know what would’ve been nice, though? One of those beer soups. Maybe next time I go to Wisconsin. Yeah… next time….”
“Yes, sir, well, Go Brewers.”
“Oh, no, I can’t.”
“Can’t what, sir?”
“Can’t brew anything. The Doctor won’t let me cook down here. She doesn’t even let me have a hot plate. Not after last time…”
“Yes sir. Good night, sir. Enjoy your soup.”
Copyright 2021 John F Di Leo
Excerpted with permission from “Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volume One,” from Free State West Publishing, available in paperback or eBook exclusively on Amazon.
John F. Di Leo is a Chicagoland-based international transportation and trade compliance professional and consultant. A onetime Milwaukee County Republican Party chairman, he has been writing a regular column for Illinois Review since 2009. His book on vote fraud (The Tales of Little Pavel) and his political satires on the current administration (Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volumes I and II) are available only on Amazon
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