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…
Note: We continue from Volume Two, as Joe Buckstop’s soup aide, young Rhett Snapper, discusses railroads, video calls, masks and vaccines.
Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken Corn Rivel Soup
Dateline, April 30. Begin Transcript:
“Hello, sir, Happy Friday!”
“You’re too chipper. I’m beat.”
“Flashbacks of November 3, sir?”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, sir. Why are you beat?”
“Went somewhere today. Gave a speech. Tiring.”
“Oh yes, the Pennsylvania trip. I heard about it, sir.”
“That’s right, kid. Pennsylvania.”
“Rhett, sir. The name is Rhett.”
“Oh.”
“So here’s your soup, sir. The cook heard you were going to Pennsylvania, so she made you Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken Corn Rivel Soup, sir.”
“That’s a long name.”
“Yes sir.”
“Sounds as long as the names of those politicians from India. And their towns. And their states…. Man, they have long names.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Don’t have listen to them for a while.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“Cut ’em off. Cold. No travel. Banned ’em.”
“Why, sir?”
“Second wave of Covid.”
“In India, sir?”
“Yup. All those long names. Probably make them susceptible.”
“I don’t think it works that way, sir.”
“Well, don’t want ’em here anyway. Can hardly go into a 7-11 without running into those people and their annoying accents.”
“Um, sir, didn’t that kind of comment really hurt your campaign a few years ago, sir?”
“Huh?”
“Well, anyway, sir, here’s your soup. Pennsylvania Dutch Chicken Corn Rivel Soup, sir. Apparently very popular in Pennsylvania, sir.”
“I was just there, you know. I was there today.”
“Yes sir, I know.”
“Just went. Up to Pennsylvania and back. In one day. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Yes sir.”
“Washington couldn’t have done that.”
“Yes sir.”
“I can go to Pennsylvania and back in a day. Adams couldn’t do that. Jefferson couldn’t do that.”
“Yes sir.”
“But I can.”
“Sir, the way you’re putting it, sir, it’s like you’re saying it’s some special mark of accomplishment that you’re able to do this and they weren’t. It’s technology, sir. It’s not like you invented the railroad, sir.”
“I made Amtrak popular.”
“Um, no you didn’t, sir.”
“I rode it every day when I was in the Senate.”
“Well, yes sir, so did lots of people, sir.”
“I made it popular.”
“Umm, don’t you think that’s a bit of a stretch, sir?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, sir, you weren’t responsible for any of it; you can’t claim credit for it, sir.”
“Come on, man!”
“Seriously, sir. It’s like the vaccine, you’re claiming credit for all kinds of things you had nothing to do with, sir.”
“Hey, do you realize I’m going to get a hundred million people vaccinated by May?”
“Well, sir, that’s just the thing. You’re not, sir.”
“Check the numbers. Check Dr Fauci’s site. Check the stars. It’s a hundred million. People didn’t think I could do it, but I’m doing it!”
“Sir, with all due respect, the vaccines were developed in 2020 and approved through a new process set up by President Trump, sir. Operation Warp Speed, sir.”
“Come on, man!”
“So however successful all this is, it’s a Trump accomplishment, sir. Why do you keep trying to claim credit for something they did, sir?”
“How do you know?”
“Sir, everybody knows. Even though the press is trying to keep it hidden, and they hardly ever fact-check you, everybody knows that the fast development of the vaccines was a Trump accomplishment. It only hurts your credibility more for you to keep claiming credit, sir.”
“Hey now!”
“Sir, I’m just trying to help you. Just trying to remind you that you’re making yourself look ridiculous when you claim credit for something you didn’t do. Everybody knows, sir.”
“Everybody?”
“Yes sir, pretty much everybody, sir.”
“Oh. Hmm… This is good soup. What’s in it?”
“Beats me, sir. Chicken, corn, onions… that’s all I know. Lots of other stuff. But I wouldn’t know, sir. I’m not from Pennsylvania.”
“Well, now, there’s a coincidence!”
“What is, sir?”
“Guess where I was today?”
“Where, sir?”
“Pennsylvania!”
“Oh for crying out loud…”
“Yup, I was just in Pennsylvania. And you know what I talked about?”
“Gibberish, sir?”
“What was that?”
“Umm, Gilgamesh, sir? About that ban on Indian people you’re so proud of?”
“Oh, no, no, not that… I talked about trains!”
“Oh, how lucky that audience must’ve felt, sir.”
“Yup, I’m going to spend another ten billion a year on trains so we can expand our commuter rail options!”
“You’re kidding, right, sir?”
“What?”
“You’re joking, right? You’re kidding with me? You can’t possibly be serious, sir.”
“Come on man, of course I’m serious! We’re gonna spend ten billion a year on trains. The good kind. The really good kind. The lightning fast ones… whatever they’re called. Yup, I’m spending ten billion more a year. On, umm… oh, what are they… come on, you know the thing…”
“High speed rail, sir?”
“Yes, that’s it! Ten billion more per year expanding commuter rail!”
“Uh, sir, you’re not spending that money, sir.”
“Oh?”
“Yes sir. You’re not spending that money, sir. You don’t have that kind of money, sir. That’s the taxpayers’ money, sir. And their kids, and grandkids, and great grandkids.”
“Oh.”
“None of whom, in all likelihood, will ever ride on one of those trains, sir.”
“What? Why not?”
“Sir, have you noticed what’s happened since the plandemic started, sir?”
“Huh?”
“Since it all started, over a year ago, the number of commuters plummeted, sir. Tons of companies went out of business, and tons of companies just sent their people home and have them all working from their basements, sir. It’s all remote now, sir. If you’re not in retail or manufacturing, you’re working out of your basement, sir. Almost everyone now, sir.”
“Come on, man!”
“Well, sir, look around you. Where are you, right now, sir?”
“Me? Why, I’m here!”
“Yes sir, but where is here?”
“Ummm, in my basement….”
“Exactly, sir. You do your work in your basement, you have meetings on remote video call services like Webex and MS Teams…”
“And Zoom too! Don’t forget Zoom!”
“Oh, sure, why not. Can’t resist mentioning the Chinese one…”
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, sir, nothing…”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, sir, the nation doesn’t need more passenger rail. It doesn’t work, sir.”
“Of course it works, you lying dog faced pony soldier! It works all over the country! Every day!”
“Yes, sir, pre-existing passenger rail works, sir. New light rail doesn’t, sir. New trolleys don’t, sir. And they never will, sir.”
“Come on, man!”
“It’s simple, sir. Look at any city. If they had commercial rail put in a hundred years ago, then the housing and the shopping and the jobs and the downtowns all developed along the rail lines, right, sir?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“And in the cities where they imposed new light rail or high speed rail or trolley lines in the past ten or twenty years, nobody uses it, right, sir?”
“Well, we have to advertise it! A few hundred billion in advertising would be sure to do it!”
“Oh dear. No, sir. No. Just… no.”
“No?”
“No, sir. No amount of advertising can get a person who doesn’t live near a rail line to take that rail line to a workplace that isn’t near it either. It can’t be done, sir. It doesn’t make sense, sir.”
“Why not? Trains are great!”
“Well, sure, sir, trains are great if the housing and shopping and offices and industry all grow up along the rail network, sir. But if a city didn’t already develop along those lines, you can’t impose it on a city, sir! You obviously can’t get everyone in the city to just knock down their buildings and move everything around, sir. So you can never have enough commuters and shoppers to make the rail line pay. Heck, in some cities, you can’t even get enough people to use the things to prevent a need to have a maid walk through the train cars once a week to dust the seats, sir.”
“Oh.”
“See, cars and buses can be flexible, sir. They can be re-routed wherever they’re needed, sir.”
“Oh.”
“Once you put track in the ground, it’s not flexible anymore. You’re just stuck paying billions of dollars a year to support a white elephant, sir.”
“Oh.”
“So there’s just no point, sir. I mean, I like trains too, when they make sense, sir. Like with cargo. We desperately need to expand our cargo rail systems… That’s what the country really needs, sir. But I know that’s not as exciting as high speed rail, sir.”
“Oh, we can’t do that.”
“But why not, sir?”
“Because it’s not as exciting as high speed rail.”
“Oh. Who’d have thought.”
“Yup, it’s gonna be high speed rail. We’ll build a ton of it. It’ll be great. Ten billion a year forever.”
“Um, sir, are you saying that you don’t care whether anyone ever actually uses these trains, sir?”
“Huh? No, of course not! We want people to use them! We’ll make ’em use ’em!”
“Sir, if they’re in inconvenient places, as they always are, sir, and if most people aren’t commuting anymore anyway, sir… then why build them at all, sir? They’ll all be empty, sir!”
“We’re putting America to work!”
“Wait a minute, sir… are you saying… you don’t care about the commuters at all, because you just care about having construction jobs to pass out? Union jobs to build the trains, sir?”
“A lot of steel… a lot of union jobs!”
“But sir, haven’t you heard about the steel shortages, sir? All over the country, American manufacturers can’t get steel because the commodity is already in short supply, compared to the need, sir! Your plan uses up hundreds of thousands of tons of steel, keeping it out of the hands of American manufacturers who would actually be making worthwhile things with it, things that buyers want to buy, sir!”
“That’s a lot of union jobs.”
“But sir, it will cost us private sector jobs! Don’t you see, sir, if you raise taxes to spend government money on unnecessary projects, using up materials that are desperately needed in the private sector, then all that does is hurt the country! It doesn’t help, sir! It hurts!”
“That’s a lot of union jobs.”
“But sir, they’re not helpful, jobs, sir! They’re destructive jobs, sir! They’re taking money and material and jobs out of the hands of other people who need them to succeed on their own, sir!”
“That’s a lot of union jobs.”
“I know, sir, but don’t you see, sir…”
“That’s why I delivered the speech in Pennsylvania. I’m from there, originally, you know. You probably didn’t know. Did you know I’m from Scranton?”
“Oh good heavens.”
“Yup, I’m from Scranton. Small town America. Real town. Real workers. They could use a nice high speed commuter rail in Scranton…. They don’t have a lot of jobs there anymore. This’ll put a lot of people to work…”
Copyright 2021-2024 John F Di Leo
Excerpted with permission from Evening Soup with Basement Joe, Volume Two, from Free State West Publishing, available in paperback or eBook exclusively on Amazon.
As an actor performing in Chicagoland theatre, John will be featured as “Old Joe” Boyd in the musical comedy “Damn Yankees” at St. Stephen Protomartyr in Des Plaines, IL, only on Fridays, March 1 and 8, 2024.
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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