One of my thousands of happy employees equips our new line of biotech poultry with a built-in serotonin booster. Happy chickens lay happy eggs!
I got back to the office early today from an unexpected two-week trip to a chicken farm I own in Andalusia to find Juan, my assistant, dry-firing his pistol at the poster of Nancy Pelosi that hangs in my office. I thought this was weird because, aside from one time when he started licking it, Juan has never paid the poster much mind. What was going on?
But first thing’s first. I was miffed to have been abroad on business last week, which, as we all know, was a particularly important seven days in American foreign policy. Like a lot of people, I’d been gearing up for Gen. David Patraeus’ report to Congress and the inevitable showdown between Democrats and the president. I’d even bought a keg of Keystone Light and passed out fliers around the neighborhood inviting those whom I deemed worthy back to the office for the "big game." This was gonna be huge! But alas, waterfowl business called, so I put Juan in charge of covering Patraeus’ testimony and President Bush’s address to the nation.
Now that I was back, I was anxious to see how "the showdown" was progressing.
"No, no showdown," Juan said.
"What? What are you talking about, Juan? Tell me how the the big battle is going! This is what we’ve waited for! Let’s report this bitch!” I exclaimed, already drunk on anticipation.
"No, no beeg battle. No nothing," he replied. "Patraeus is a peeg-fucker. He say nothing. He George Bush’s hand puppet."
Click. He took a shot at Pelosi.
"Juan, look, I’m jet lagged and have chicken shit on my shoes.” I said. "Please tell me how things unfolded last week while I was gone."
"They unfold like sheet! Next time I vote with this," he muttered, shoving his pistol sidewise in my face.
"Jesus, Juan, stop threatening the government. You’re going to get us all put on some list," I said, exasperatedly.
He ignored me; Juan can be a bit of a bitch sometimes. But I still had to find out what I had missed.
"Now c’mon — tell me how bad the Democrats and the American people are finally beating up on the president over what must have been a damning testimony from his top General in the region!" I yelled, angrily throwing down my airport copy of US Weekly on my desk.
I’ll paraphrase what Juan said next, because some of it was in Mexican (which I’m getting quite good at, by the way). According to Juan, General Patraeus made what could only be interpreted as a politically calculated assessment of the situation in Iraq, the major purpose of which was to give the president political breathing room by allowing him to withdraw a symbolic number of troops in the near future.
Further, Juan said, both Patraeus’ and Ambassador Ryan C. Crocker’s testimonies about security gains in Baghdad, while true, failed to correctly and responsibly identify the underlying negative forces driving them. Namely, the accelerated division of the city and country along "tribal" lines, a trend that in the long term will far eclipse current or past setbacks in Iraq for violence, death, terror and general quality of life. In terms of US troop levels, Juan claimed the president said that if everything goes extremely well and according to the plan (in the Bush’s mind, at least), we might, by March of 2008, be exactly where we were about five months ago.
"Get the fuck out of town," I said, sinking into my swivel chair. "Well shit, the Democrats must be going berserk."
Click. Juan took another shot at Pelosi. Now I understood. I was home.