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 reprinting roughly every other chapter from Volume Two. In today’s episode, Joe Buckstop, still early in his first year in office, is on a diplomatic mission in Europe for a few days of meetings. His regular soup aide is still back home, and the Belgian fellow delivering his soup comes at the discussion from a very different perspective…
Languages, Sanctions, and Belgian Waterzooi Soup
Dateline June 14. Begin Transcript:
“Hello? Hello? Is anyone in there?”
“Yes! Back here! I’m at my desk!”
“Good evening, sir. I apologize… I took a couple of wrong turns, sir, trying to find your room, sir. The lower levels of these big modern – how do you say – conference centers… they are like labyrinths, are they not, sir?”
“Oh, well. I don’t know.”
“That is the word, sir, is it not? Labyrinth?”
“I don’t know.”
“So confusing down here. They said they set up an office for you down here. But this ballroom here, and that ballroom there, and conference rooms and meeting rooms and board rooms… I followed the directions I was given sir, and they led me to two broom closets and a big storeroom full of tall seats before I found your room, sir. So I am sorry I am late, sir.”
“No problem… tall seats? What do you mean by tall seats?”
“A storeroom, full of…. hmm…. the seats were tall… no… the seats were normal… there were many chairs… hmm… stacks of chairs. Do you call them that, sir? Stacked chairs?”
“Oh, stacking chairs. Sure. hotels are full of stacking chairs. I used to give speeches in hotels… when I was starting out, those first few campaigns, they’d only put out the number of chairs they knew they’d need, then those stacks would be in the back room, in case they needed more. It’s an old trick. It’s so your room always looks full. Love stacking chairs. God’s give to a young candidate.”
“Oh, I should introduce myself… I am Pluizig Wafel, I am clerk in your embassy in Brussels, sir… very honored to have the privilege of serving you your soup tonight, sir.”
“Oh, you work for us? Are you American?”
“Oh, no, sir, no, I am Belgian, sir, civilian employee, sir. I am a local, sir. Work here because of language ability, sir.”
“Really? Cause it sounds to be like you’re having some trouble with English, son…”
“English is not my specialty, sir. My parents were concerned that all the children were learning English, and forgetting the historical languages, sir, so they made sure I learned everything else first, and only got to English at a later time, sir.”
“So what language is your first?”
“Flemish, sir. Flemish, French, Walloon, Frisian, Italian, sir. I finally learned English when I prepared to go to university, sir.”
“Those are all different languages?”
“Well, I would not say I am perfect at them, sir. But reasonably fluent, sir. Better than my English, you understand, sir.”
“Oh.”
“So here is your soup. It is traditional… A traditional … Belgian soup. Belgian Chicken Waterzooi, sir.”
“Water gooey? That doesn’t sound very appetizing…”
“No, sir. Waterzooi, sir. It is a Belgian chicken soup, sir. Leeks, carrots, celery, chicken… a local specialty, sir. We hope you like it, sir.”
“Mmm. Are there crackers?”
“Crackers, sir?”
“Sure, crackers. Can’t eat soup without crackers! Oh, in England all week, they kept calling them biscuits.”
“Ah, yes, sir. Right here, sir. Soup, and crackers, and napkins, and spoons, sir. They said you like to have several spoons, sir. We didn’t understand, but we did as we were told, sir.”
“Oh, well, I drop a spoon now and then.”
“I see, sir. Well, I hope you enjoy your soup, sir. Good night.”
“Wait, stick around!”
“Yes, sir?”
“So what do you do in our embassy?”
“I am a local translator, sir. Just a clerk, sir. A lot of your English speakers do not know our local dialects; I can be helpful when people enter the building – or telephone – speaking Flemish, or Frisian, or Walloon, you know, sir.”
“Oh. Doesn’t our State Department have Americans who speak all those languages?”
“Sir, in my experience, in America, sir, most people learn French or Spanish, or perhaps Arabic, sir. Once in a while you meet an American who studied German, maybe Italian or Portuguese, sir, but your schools don’t even tell their students that Walloon and Flemish exist, sir, let alone the rarer languages like Frisian or Luxembourgish, sir.”
“Luxembourgish? You’re pulling my leg!”
“No, sir, It is the language spoken in Luxembourg, sir. Well, it is the language local to Luxembourg, sir, along with French and German, of course, sir.”
“Luxembourg isn’t big enough to have a language, is it?”
“Sir, there are two Luxembourgs; the country, and a Belgian province, sir. And yes, they are big enough together to have their own language… although it is, how you say in English – departing? No. Demonstrating? No. Diminishing, that is it. Diminishing. Some of our languages are diminishing, sir. Overwhelmed by French, and German, and of course, English, sir.”
“Come on, man! That’s crazy!”
“Crazy that languages are dying out, sir, or crazy that we have many languages, sir?”
“I don’t know. Just seems crazy. Good soup, though. What did you call it again?”
“Chicken Waterzooi, sir. Chicken Waterzooi.”
“And what’s your name? Pluizig Wafel, sir.”
“Doesn’t sound like an American name to me.”
“That’s because it isn’t, sir. I am Dutch and Belgian, sir.”
“You have all these ethnicities over here. I’m just Irish and English, myself. Makes it all easier.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Glad to be done with these meetings today, though. Nice to finally settle down to a bowl of chicken soup. Even if I can’t pronounce it.”
“Is Waterzooi difficult to pronounce, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know… doesn’t matter. Just glad I’m done.”
“Were your meetings productive, sir?”
“Oh, sure, sure, they all agreed with what we’re doing. So glad I can get here and fix everything that Trump screwed up.”
“What would that be, sir?”
“Well, you know, I’m pulling out of Afghanistan, finally, this summer.”
“Didn’t Mr. Trump schedule that last year, to take place this summer?”
“Well, uh, yeah, but he scheduled it for May, and I changed it.”
“To September 11, sir?”
“Yeah.”
“So you switched the final pullout of troops after twenty years, from a meaningless date to a date that the islamist radicals already celebrate as a day of victory over the West, sir. That was your choice, sir?”
“Umm, yeah, sure.”
“I see, sir.”
“And we talked about, umm, dues. My predecessor was always nagging all the Europeans to pay their dues as members of the UN. So rude. You just can’t do that. Always nagging people to pay.”
“Shopkeepers must love having you and the First Lady as customers, sir.”
“Huh?”
“Just wondering, sir, never mind. Please continue, sir. Don’t mind me.”
“And of course we talked about Russia, and how important NATO is to stand up to Russia.”
“Yes, sir, of course. You never know when Russia will reach over the border and decide to annex some NATO member’s province, sir.”
“Right, exactly! We need NATO to be here to stand up and stop that sort of thing!”
“Like when Russia stole Crimea from Ukraine, sir.”
“Huh? What’s that?”
“Well, sir, wasn’t it back when you were vice president before, sir, that Russia said they heard people in Crimea saying they wanted to be annexed, and even though nobody else heard it, Russia was quite… how do you say… positive? Yes, Mr Putin said he was positive that he heard their cries, and he annexed Crimea, despite NATO’s warnings against enlargement. Umm, Sir.”
“Well, NATO acted right away! NATO kicked into action immediately!”
“I remember that, sir. I don’t remember what they did, though.”
“We immediately issued sanctions!”
“Did you cut off all commerce with Russia, sir?”
“Well, now, we don’t want to go overboard, now!”
“So what did NATO do, sir? Do you remember, sir?”
“Well, yeah, sure. We… umm… we issued sanctions against, uhhh… hmmm…”
“Against Russia, sir?”
“Well, mostly against Crimea, I think. We agreed not to do business with Crimea. Or to sell certain products to Russia that might be used on the border, like oil drilling supplies and pipelines.”
“So… if I understand correctly, sir… Russia invaded a country, declared it had permanently conquered a province it wanted, and NATO stood up proudly and mobilized its bureaucrats and declared that NATO would stop buying Crimean beef and wine, and would stop selling them drills and pipes. Is that right, sir?”
“Umm, yeah, that’s about right.”
“Would NATO have acted any differently if Ukraine had been a full member at the time, sir?”
“Well, uh, I don’t know…”
“So what does NATO have troops for, sir, if it responds to conquests by issuing notice that it’s scratching a few things off its shopping list, sir?”
“Hey, what do you know about Ukraine, anyway, young man?”
“Not much, sir. I like their Easter eggs, sir. I do not know much more about them, sir. Except that they were a bit bigger six years, ago, sir.”
“Oh.”
“Before Russia moved in, and NATO stood up and flexed its mimeograph machine.”
“Its what?”
“Perhaps it is the wrong word? Mimeograph? That is what you call it, is it not, sir?”
“Come on, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, it is the old-fashioned machine for forms… for government paperwork, sir. What do you call them… Dittos, I think, sir?”
“What?”
“Yes, sir, they called them dittos. They finally retired the machine in the embassy. Only two or three clerks still used it. Almost all the forms are done in the computer now, sir, but the mimeograph machine was the only way for a long time, to please the bureaucrats, sir.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about again.”
“Dittos, sir. Before forms were computerized, sir, dittos were always the best solution, sir. You must have heard of dittos, sir. Perhaps early in your career?”
“Don’t bring up dittos to me, young man. That stuff was a thorn in my side for thirty years.”
“I do not understand, sir.”
“Just as well, I guess. I’ve gotta turn in soon. Big day tomorrow. Flying home.”
“No, sir, I don’t think so.”
“No?”
“No, sir, unless the reports were wrong… we were told that you would be meeting with the EU tomorrow, sir, and then with Mr Putin the next day, sir. Is that not correct, sir?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I need some more soup. Is there any more of this soup, young man?”
“Yes sir, they said that if you wanted more, they would have more for you, sir.”
“Oh, goodie! What’s your name again?”
“Pluizig Wafel, sir.”
“And… there was another thing… what was it now… soup, and… oh, come on, you know the thing… “
“Crackers, sir?”
“That’s it! Are there crackers?”
“I am sure they will have bought enough crackers to ensure you do not run out, sir. I will refill your bowls, sir.”
“Oh, goodie.”
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.
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.
If you enjoyed this article, then please REPOST or SHARE with others; encourage them to follow AFNN. If you’d like to become a citizen contributor for AFNN, contact us at managingeditor@afnn.us Help keep us ad-free by donating here.
Substack: American Free News Network Substack
Truth Social: @AFNN_USA
Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/afnnusa
Telegram: https://t.me/joinchat/2_-GAzcXmIRjODNh
Twitter: https://twitter.com/AfnnUsa
GETTR: https://gettr.com/user/AFNN_USA
CloutHub: @AFNN_USA