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, March 2. Begin Transcript:
“Good evening, boss! Guess what we have tonight!”
“Guess? Oh, I’m no good at guessing. Half the time, I can’t even remember things I should know, let alone things I don’t know. What are we talking about now?”
“Soup, sir!”
“Oh, soup! I like soup. Are we going to get some soup?”
“No, sir, I brought the soup with me.”
“Oh, goody!”
“So here you are, sir: the soup of the day is Mulligatawny!”
“Come on, Man!”
“No, really, sir! Mulligatawny!”
“I don’t want mullah malarkey soup, boy! I’ve never even HEARD of mullah malarkey soup. Forget it. Take it back. Hey, you know what’d be fun? Let’s order a pizza. If I give you my credit card, would you pick up a pizza for us?”
“Um, thank you, sir, I do like pizza, but I think you misunderstood. This is MULLIGATAWNY soup, sir. It’s a real soup, that’s what it’s called.”
“Mullah malarkey is a soup?”
“Mulligatawny, sir. It’s really very famous, sir. It’s Indian. It’s probably the most famous Indian soup, sir. Here in the USA, anyway.”
“Indian?”
“Yes sir. It’s an Indian soup, sir.”
“An Indian suit? No way.”
“Yes sir, an Indian soup.”
“Look, I’ve lived 78 years and I know there are only two kinds of Indian suits: the Madras plaid and the Nehru jacket. And I’m not wearing either one of those ridiculous things. Even on the golf course I’m not gonna wear a madras jacket. Not even on a BET.”
“Not suit, sir. Soup. Mulligatawny is an Indian soup, sir.”
“Indians don’t make soup, boy! They hunt buffalo and eat roast buffalo meat… soup is for more developed societies…”
“Not American Indians, sir! I mean… I mean, not Native Americans, sir. Indian. Asian, Indians.”
“Oh.”
“Indians from India. The Subcontinent, sir. In Asia, sir. It’s just soup. Like I bring you every night, sir.”
“Oh.”
“Mulligatawny soup, sir.”
“Oh.”
“Well, try it, sir. Indian soup. It’s very popular.”
“Mmm. Hmmm…. Well… I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it. Should’ve ordered a pizza.”
“Oh well. They can’t all be winners, sir.”
“I’ve had enough bad luck with India this week already. I didn’t need more.”
“Oh? What’s wrong, sir?”
“Oh, that little girl dropped out of the nomination. Nearby Tandem.”
“Oh, you mean Neera Tanden, sir?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Nearby Tandem. Sounds like a bicycle.”
“Neera Tanden, sir.”
“Beer and Dancin’?”
“No sir. Neera Tanden, sir. Neera Tanden dropped out.”
“Oh, well, who cares. She’s not getting the job, she won’t be in the cabinet, so I don’t have to get her name right, do I? About time.”
“Well, sir, you said you’d still put her in the administration, just not in the cabinet, sir.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Why indeed, sir.”
“What am i supposed to do? Make her secretary of something else?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Why not? The Doctor said I have to give her a job. She said I have to… I don’t have a choice. I don’t want the Doctor to beat me again…”
“Now now, sir, don’t worry, sir.”
“But I just know she’ll beat me if I don’t give that little girl a job… I can’t take it any more…”
“Don’t worry, sir. The, umm, the Doctor isn’t going to beat you. You can give Neera Tanden a job.”
“I can? But you said I can’t! I’ve gotta sit back down now.”
“No, sir. I said you can’t make her a cabinet secretary. If she couldn’t get senatorial approval to be OMB director, she wouldn’t be able to be confirmed as a Secretary either. The mistake was naming her for OMB, sir.”
“OMB?”
“Yes, sir, OMB. Office of Management and Budget. A post that requires Senate confirmation. May I ask, why did you think of her for that job in the first place, sir?”
“Uh, I dunno…. I don’t remember. Wait…. there was a reason… Oh yeah, because she had experience!”
“In what, sir?”
“Huh?”
“What did she have experience in, sir?”
“Oh… umm… she ran umm… she ran something… a think tank! That’s it. She ran a think tank!”
“Oh, that’s right, sir. The Center for American Progress. I’ve heard of them. The Clintons’ Cato.”
“What’s that?”
“The Clintons’ Cato, sir. That’s what they call it. They say it’s the Clintons’ answer to the Cato Institute and the Heritage Foundation. They hire Clinton staffers and they finance offshoot organizations.”
“Oh. What’s it called again?”
“The Center for American Progress, sir. Millions and millions of dollars from George Soros, sir. Man, that’d be sweet, wouldn’t it, sir?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sweet. What were we talking about again?”
“Um, Neera Tanden, sir.”
“Oh, right. Neera Tanden. Why were we talking about her again?”
“Because you had her withdraw from the OMB post, sir. So you need to find her another job that doesn’t require Senate confirmation, sir.”
“Oh, right. Vice president?”
“Good heavens, no, sir!”
“Oh. Well, I dunno why not. Anybody can do that job. I did it for eight years and I basically just napped and shook hands with people.”
“Well, perhaps so, sir, but it’s not an option, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s not available, sir.”
“Oh, maybe she could switch with Kamala. She could get senate confirmation, couldn’t she?”
“Uhh, yeah, probably, but… see, she’s not one of the chess pieces we can just move around like the appointees, sir.”
“Sure we can!”
“No, sir, She has a job, sir. She’s vice president.”
“Yeah, but she probably doesn’t like it. Nobody does.”
“That’s NOT the point, sir. You and she were elected to your posts, sir, so…”
“HAH! We were not.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“We weren’t elected. Don’t be silly. They had to run every copier and printer in Pennsylvania and Arizona all night long to put us over the top. Heh heh heh….”
“Well, sir, umm, be that as it may, sir… umm… the point is that you and she can’t swap in and out of other jobs in the administration, sir. You could make Miss Tanden a second assistant undersecretary of something, sir. I’m sure that’s what they want. Just something that doesn’t need Senate confirmation, sir.”
“What department?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t care, sir. Probably just wants it for her resume, sir. And your team wants to show your respect for the Center for American Progress, sir.”
“Who’s that?”
“The think tank, sir. The one she used to run, sir? We were just talking about it, sir?”
“Oh, right. What do they do, again?”
“They create jobs for Clinton-affiliated politicians, sir, then they cycle them in and out of the government, sir. Or so I’m told, sir. That’s what they say in the White House Mess, sir.”
“Oh No!”
“What’s wrong, sir?”
“I made a mess?”
“Huh? Oh, no…. no, sir, you’re fine, sir.”
“I thought you said I made a mess. Did I spill my soup?”
“No, sir, I just mentioned the executive mansion’s cafeteria, sir. It’s known as the White House Mess, sir. The White House Mess.”
“Oh.”
“So I think she’ll probably be happy with almost any post in the government, sir, I wouldn’t worry.”
“Oh.”
“You should probably just talk with your Chief of Staff about it, sir. That’s what your predecessors usually did, sir.”
“Oh.”
“You could probably ask her what she wants, sir. You wouldn’t have to do it, but sometimes if you hear what kind of a job a person wants, that can give you an idea of what she’d be good at, sir.”
“She has nice hair.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“That gal. The bicycle. Nearby Tandem. She has nice hair.”
“Umm, I’m sure she does sir, but, that’s not important right now, sir.”
“It’s not?”
“No, sir. Maybe you should talk with Kamala Harris, sir.”
“About her hair?”
“No, sir, about Neera Tanden, sir.”
“Oh. About taking her job away?”
“Well, sir, you didn’t take her job away, sir. Neera Tanden wasn’t going to be confirmed, so you discussed it with her, and she agreed to withdraw her nomination, sir. That’s how it’s done in Washington, sir.”
“It is?”
“Certainly, sir. I’m sure there’s no hard feelings, sir.”
“Oh that’s good. Maybe I should take for lunch at that new place down the block and discuss her options.”
“Which place, sir?”
“I dunno the name, but a new deli opened, and she’d probably be comfortable in a new deli…”
“I have no response to that, sir.”
“I just hated taking the job away from her after offering it to her. I didn’t run for this office just to become an indian giver…”
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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