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, 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 26. Begin Transcript:
“Good evening boss, ready for some cioppino?”
“No, I can’t drink wine… the Doctor said it clashes with my meds…”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“Wine. Can’t drink wine. Doctor doesn’t allow it.”
“Umm, is this your personal doctor, sir, or your wife?”
“Wife. The Doctor. She’s a Doctor.”
“Her doctorate is in education, sir.”
“Huh?”
“She has a PhD in childhood indoctrination, sir, that’s not medicine…”
“Well, what she says goes.”
“Oh, okay sir. I’m not gonna argue, sir…”
“So you can take that glass of Show Pinot right back where it came from.”
“Oh, NOW I see, sir. You thought… No, sir, I don’t have a glass of wine, sir, I have a bowl of cioppino for you, sir. Cioppino.”
“Is that another of those weird soups, boy?”
“No, sir, it’s not weird, sir. It’s Italian seafood soup, though I’m told it was actually invented in San Francisco.”
“What’s it called again?”
“Cioppino, sir. Cioppino.”
“And what’s in it?”
“Shrimp, crab, clams, lobster, scallops. Sometimes mussels. I’ve seen it with squid too.”
“And you tell me that’s not weird?”
“Sir, are there any ingredients in that list that you don’t eat?”
“Weird.”
“Do you eat fried shrimp, baked lobster, crab legs, sir?”
“Well, sure…”
“Do you eat seared scallops? Clam strips or a clam po’boy sandwich, sir? A fried calamari appetizer, sir?”
“Well, sure…”
“Then what’s weird about a soup that has those exact same things in it, sir?”
“Hmm… I don’t have have an answer to that.”
“Well, you don’t have an answer to anything, sir…”
“What’s that, boy? Didn’t quite catch that.”
“Oh, sorry, sir, I said, been known to cure cancer and everything, sir, it’s really good for you.”
“Oh, well, maybe I’ll try it. Are there crackers?”
“Right here, sere.”
“Hmm…. mmm…. not bad… tastes Eye-talian…”
“Well, yes sir, it is Italian, sir. Invented in San Francisco, they say, kind of an Italian version of bouillabaise, sir.”
“It’s all right. I can eat it.”
“All right, sir? It’s better than all right. It’s one of the best soups in the world, sir! Definitely my favorite!”
“Mmm. Okay. Whatever you say. Not bad.”
“So, how was your day, sir?”
“My day? Same as every other day. No different.”
“Well, anything interesting happen at work, sir?”
“Hmm. Work. Fired somebody. Don’t remember who.”
“Oh? Do you recall why, sir?”
“Yeah. Pot.”
“Smoking pot, sir?”
“No. Used to. Smoked pot before.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, sir. You, or your employees?”
“What about us?”
“Who smoked pot, sir?”
“Hell, who didn’t?”
“No, I meant, you said you fired somebody, sir, was it because you caught them smoking pot, sir?”
“Oh, no, I didn’t catch anybody.”
“Oh, someone else caught them, sir?”
“No, nobody caught them. They, uh, volunteered it.”
“You had staffers who just announced that they’re smoking pot, sir?”
“No, before they were staffers.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand, sir.”
“Neither do I.”
“I mean, when did you fire them, sir? When did they smoke?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Five people admitted on their job applications that they smoked pot at some point, so we fired them, or, uh, asked them to resign… or, uh, we demoted them or something. I’m not real clear on it.””
“So this was before they worked for you, sir?”
“Well, sure, we don’t hire potheads.”
“So, you fired them for something they had done before they worked for you?”
“Well, umm… uhhh… if you put it that way…”
“I heard about this in the news, sir… it was about a week ago, wasn’t it, sir?”
“I dunno. I just heard about it today. I’d rather … umm… you know, I’d rather talk about this soup.”
“Oh, fine with me, sir. It’s a seafood soup, so it’s not at all fishy.”
“Mmm… Right…”
“Unlike the idea of firing people for something they did before they worked for you, which is very fishy…”
“Huh?”
“Well, sir, I’m just confused. I thought the Democratic party was the party of the worker, the laborer, the union, the shop steward who goes to the mat to support the employee who’s been unjustly canned. Isn’t that the legend, sir?”
“Oh, what do you know about it. You’re just a kid.”
“Well, sir, I’m in law school, you know, and we’re talking about labor law right now, sir. Not a whole unit, just a bit of intro on the tangent, sir… but it just struck me… isn’t the idea of a modern Democrat White House firing a bunch of newly hired employees for having honestly admitted to having done pot way in the past… well, sir, isn’t that pretty much the exact opposite of a Democrat thing to do so, sir?”
“I, umm, well, I wasn’t involved, you know, uhh… I didn’t do any interviews or anything..”
“Why not, sir? Just wondering, sir, honestly, why wouldn’t you have done any of the hiring for your own branch, sir?”
“Oh, I wanted to, but they wouldn’t let me.”
“Why not, sir?”
“Well, as soon as I asked if the interns would send pictures along with the resumes, the Doctor started hitting me.”
“Oh my, sir.”
“And then I tried to help out by offering to conduct the interviews, the Doctor said she’d have to be in there with me. Well… that wouldn’t have been any fun, you know?”
“I suppose so, sir…”
“But I guess she got angriest when she saw my questionnaire.”
“Questionnaire, sir? You wrote a questionnaire?”
“Well, umm, ahh, you see, the personnel department always wrote the questionnaires before, see, and I thought it could be updated, you know?”
“Oh boy.”
“But they didn’t like my questions.”
“What did you plan to ask, sir?”
“Well, you know… hair color, you know, so we can remember who’s who…. likes and dislikes, hobbies, favorite places, brand of shampoo… measurements…”
“Excuse me, sir… did you say ‘measurements,’ sir?”
“It’s a great way to tell girls apart, son. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”
“Oh my.”
“You know, a lot of these minorities, they all look alike, you know? Same hair color, same skin color, same kind of clothes. Faces covered up… I figure, knowing which ones are kind of, you know, and which ones aren’t, well that would help with recognizing them. Until we can stop wearing masks, you know?”
“Uhh, you could have them wear name tags, sir.”
“My eyes are 78 years old, son..
“Well, sir, you could get to know their voices, sir.”
“My ears are 78 years old, son.”
“Well, yes, sir, but, you can’t go around acting like your management skills are from 78 years ago too, sir… they’ll never put up with it, sir!”
“Yeah, that’s what personnel said.”
“Personnel heard about your ideas, sir?”
“The personnel director was really amazed. She said if I were in the private sector, I would’ve been canned on a sexual harassment charge 20 years ago.”
“Oh my. did she file a complaint about you, sir?”
“Never got the chance. I leaned over to sniff her hair and she fainted…”
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, II, and III), are available in either eBook or paperback, only on Amazon.
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