Mary’s presence persisting, Zack refilled his coffee stein, sat, sipped, tried to think but O’Brien thoughts wouldn’t go away.
“We’ve been over this, Jocko, damn it.”
He shook it off, picked up a stubby number-two wood pencil and flipped the pages of a yellow legal pad to that draft editorial he had begun last Friday for Wednesday’s Boca. He read:
To listen to President Armstrong, the Second Coming already happened and somehow we all—or most of us, anyway (not him)—missed it. Turns out, J.C. is back and residing as a guest at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Two things about Armstrong that must be flushed out. One, his subtle references to innate racial behavioral patterns in the world’s gene pool and what he calls, their relation to the spreading violence that is hemorrhaging America to death. The other thing, most troubling, is his references to a Divine hallowed voice that he alone is privy to.
He made a note between lines— more on this after tonight’s speech —and continued to read:
Benny should spend more time talking to a psychiatrist and less to God. Start a grassroots fund for his mental treatment. Of course, being so close to the Almighty, he could skip the latter. Nothing is an accident with this President, especially when it comes to the media. Count on it, he plays television news like a Stradivarius, smiling all the way to the next election. Mary O’Brien.
He stopped. How the hell did she get in there? He put his pencil down. Concentration lost, thoughts of Mary bouncing like dropped ping-pong balls on a cement floor, he had learned over many years, when his concentration was lost to do something else. It was that time. He looked at his watch—6:50 p.m. Ten minutes to Armstrong’s speech.
He thought he might as well get a head start on Monday’s desk cleaning. He pushed around a pile of overdue invoices, read a dozen letters-to-the-editor, threw away gobs of junk mail, looked at his confused date book, savored the pictures of cigars in an old cigar catalog, and generally arranged things into different mounds on top of his desk.
Nearing the end of his procrastination rituals, he glanced at his watch—6:59 p.m. “The divined moment is upon us.”
He picked up his remote, turned the TV on and, to avoid the commercial network’s gibberish, clicked to cable’s C-SPAN 4.
Seeing a wide shot of Armstrong behind his White House Press Room desk, he said, “And there he is. Looking more and more like a TV news show, Benny.”
Zack leaned back, sipped some coffee and watched a slow zoom-in to the President’s seasoned leading-man face. “Hair’s a little less gray, Ben. Grecian Formula or Just For Men?”
The camera zoom stopped at a medium TV shot of Armstrong. Dressed in a navy blue suit, white shirt and red tie, the President flashed what reminded Zack of a “tent-crusade smile” then, as always before speaking to America in his soft up-from-the-Piedmont South Carolina baritone, said, “May we have a moment of silent prayer?”
Zack shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
Armstrong bowed his head and clasped his hands on top of the TV-style news anchor desk. The desk fronting the White House’s version of a TV news set, in the background, twenty silent television monitors flickered video from around the world, round clocks displayed earth’s twenty-four time zones, and a four-by-eight red-white-and-blue sign, dominating all, proclaimed WHITE HOUSE NEWS CENTER.
“White House News Center,” Zack shook his head, “is that a joke or what.”
Armstrong ended his silent prayer, looked up, smiled at the camera, said, “Amen and amen.”
“Me, too.” Zack popped a stick of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.
In a medium TV close-up, Armstrong began: “My brothers and sisters in democracy, a pleasant good evening to you. Well, here we are, another anniversary of our declaration of independence, on what should be a proud and continuing celebration of America’s two and a half centuries of service as a good and decent world citizen. I am especially pleased with the achievements we have made in the little time of my administration. (Pauses, wipes upper lip, then continues).
“But on the other hand I am chagrined. Chagrined by the cowardly acts of terrorism especially of the past few months. You know of what I speak. The senseless attack on the citizens of Paris was bully cowardice. Shame, shame. As to the French leadership, we must lead them into the light of the twenty-first century. But that aside, tonight I am grieved to tell you we have classified reports that this senseless terrorism, feared to happen, is about to strike again at the very heart of America.”
Zack, moving his Juicy Fruit gum between molars and cheek, drank some coffee and observed that the famous Armstrong smile was turning ominous. “Uh-oh.”
The President continued. “Fellow citizens, America, not of her own choosing but by the weight of her being the most blessed nation on earth, has truly been ordained the trusted architect of mankind’s future. It is not a role that we cherish but one that has been thrust upon us by a divine providence.”
At Armstrong’s pause for a drink of water, Zack made a note thrust upon us by a divine providence “Hummm.”
Armstrong went on. “Fellow Americans, there are evil forces in the world who would see our great America destroyed. Yes, my dear friends, these dark forces would rob us of our God-given destiny.”
The President paused to wipe his upper lip, Zack jotted God-given destiny!
The TV video tightened to a close-up of Armstrong. “These beasts are driven by one thing—America’s destruction. But I want to remind them tonight, all you nations who harbor terrorists (wags finger)—and you know who you are. I remind you, freedom is absolute and equality is certainly not true of everyone. Democracy is a divine right, and America will guarantee that that divine right (thumps desk) shall prevail.”
“Hell you say.” Zack scrawled a note America guarantees divine right, spit his gum in the wastebasket.
Armstrong proceeded. “Let me explain. In the annals of humankind there have been many forms of governing, from kings and queens to fascism to communism to democracy. And they all have failed but one. One, dear friends. And that hallowed one is democracy. And why do you think democracy has buried the others?”
Zack frowned, “I have a feeling you’re going to tell us,” and popped a fresh stick of Juicy Fruit.
Armstrong finished a drink of water and smiled. “But of course. A free market. Yes, a free market, bathed in democracy, guarantees freedom. America, democracy and the free market, they are one and the same.”
“That’s news to me,” Zack said.
The President went on. “We Americans, you and I, in all modesty, blessed of God beyond millions of other human beings to be born on mother earth, are a chosen few. And let me humbly say as your leader, I am myself assuredly divinely destined to help my fellow man.”
“I’ll be the son of a potato farmer.” Zack cracked his gum and longed for a cigarette.
The President moved his hands forward in a reaching-out gesture. “Dear friends, let me get to the point of tonight’s little chat. I have reflected on the current international crisis, and a basic realization has been shown to me.”
“One has been shown to me, too.” Zack burped on his spicy rice and shrimp dinner. The TV camera zoomed out to a medium shot of Armstrong.
“As you all know, I have been praying dusk to dawn and I can tell you this. Right and wrong moral issues are God’s law. But right and wrong political issues, here on our earth, must be decided by men favored of God. In short, it’s plain as the nose on your face. We are a favored nation. To protect that favoritism we are free and accountable to no one but ourselves.”
Zack blew a little bubble then sucked it in. “I think there’s more in that glass than water.”
The President placed his outstretched palms on his desk: “Let our action be judged only by our superior inheritance.”
“What in hell does that mean, or did I miss something, or did he switch gears?”
Zack noticed Armstrong’s left eye begin to twitch as he continued, “Let me digress for a moment (chuckles). My Presidential opponent, Senator Beno, in addition to offering up pap in order to get elected—things like guaranteed annual incomes, free medical care for every Tom, Dick and Harry on a freight siding, even if they don’t work, (agitated) and where will the money come from to pay for Sister Beno’s little shopping spree? I’ll tell you where—billions in tax hikes on our loyal corporations. Thank you very much. Those are the people who keep this country running, who create the jobs. And the nail she puts in our coffin—get this—she proposes eliminating the Marine Corps and the Coast Guard. Imagine. What will be left to protect this great nation?”
Zack put his hands behind his head. “That bugger is making this stuff up.”
Scowling, the President shook his head. “And what I was getting to earlier, the latest gem we hear from the distinguished Senator from Vermont. In the face of a threat to the very foundation of our society, she says, ‘Let’s talk to terrorists, negotiate with them, they’re just human beingssee if there is a common ground.’ (Bangs desk) That’s like telling the fox you’ll let him eat all the eggs if he’ll just leave your chickens alone.” He scowled into the camera. “Fuzzy thinking, my friends, fuzzy thinking.”
Zack confirmed his belief. “Benny is a lying son of an unwed mother.”
Armstrong’s scowl turned to a smile. “Let me say it is not Sister Beno personally I am opposed to. It is the insanity of that left wing socialist position that sours all thinking. We must protect our basic structure of economics from these confused thinkers who would return to some kind of communal mode of social engineering—redistribution of the wealth, as they call it. The planet has become too small to pander away the resources on failed, worn-out social experiments like that Beno bunch is proposing. And, God forbid, negotiate with terrorists.”
Zack flipped a page and made some quick notes: social position sours all thinking/communal mode of social engineering/god forbid.
Calmed, Armstrong continued. “As to the international threat that I mentioned earlier, this is a serious situation that must be dealt with immediately. This rogue-nation lawlessness has converged to force a time when it is ripe to, in the words of my dear departed mother, ‘clean house.’”
Zack folded his arms. “While you’re at it, how about the White House.”
The TV camera zoomed out to a wider shot of Armstrong.
Armstrong: “So, I come to you tonight with a stern warning to America’s foes both within and without. We will act decisively to preserve a way of life that is America, democracy and capitalism. Our divine destiny shall prevail.”
Zack scribbled those last words at the bottom of the page: divine destiny shall prevail.
Armstrong waggled his finger into the camera. “Make no mistake—dark forces threaten our very American way of life. The interest of private American capital, which fuels that way of life, is at stake.”
Zack pulled an earlobe. “We’re in trouble.”
Armstrong paused for water. “Let me say as honestly as I can, there may never be repeated a moment in history when, under God, a chosen people can eradicate the evils of the earth and unite one and all under an American umbrella of global democracy.”
“He switched gears again.” Zack shook his head and scratched a hasty note, American umbrella of global democracy
Armstrong: “We shall never allow anyone to threaten the foundation of America with phony giveaway programs. And we shall never allow ourselves to be held hostage by the bully beast dark forces of the world.”
Zack noted the President is not only a liar he is a narcissistic fruit cake
Armstrong: “So, our objective is clear. We will, in the coming months, for the sake of the American economic way of life, for the sake of democracy for all humanity, impose a visionary conclusive solution to international outlaw chicanery and tomfoolery with our market places. And make no mistake; our calling is no less important than the preservation of two centuries of progress in the evolution of the economics of humankind.”
Zack made another note, visionary conclusive solution then printed in large letters JOE CASE’S RECORDING??? BENNY CERTIFIABLE!
The President began to wrap it up. “My partners in freedom, this is my pledge to you tonight, on this solemn anniversary of the birth of this great nation: The first thing I vow to you is to make the streets of America safe again for freedom-loving Americans. The second thing is to end the insane darkness that is ripping the world apart.”
Vigorously chewing his Juicy Fruit, Zack bit his tongue.
Armstrong went on. “Take heart, fellow Americans. The coming months may bring some unpleasantness but I urge you to stay strong. There may never be another moment in modern history when one nation can move in a global way to fulfill the dream of the centuries—freedom for all. And I, with divine direction, am ready to forge ahead under America’s military superiority. A thousand years of peace and prosperity has come to the edge of fruition, God’s own Pax Americana.”
Zack pinched his wrist. “Nope, he said it.”
Armstrong clasped his hands. “Oh, friends, take note—this time is much more momentous than Hannibal’s decision to cross the Alps. Beyond Columbus’s discovery of a new land. Eclipses Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. This is more akin to those days immediately before God created everything.”
Zack looked up. “God, with all due respect, I wash my hands of this guy. He’s all yours.” He popped his gum.
Armstrong opened a Bible. “In closing, let me read to you the words of Psalm Forty-six, verses eight and nine: ‘Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations he hath made in the earth. He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; he burnest the chariot in the fire.’”
“We’re in deep doo-dah-day.” Zack cracked his gum.
Armstrong smiled as the camera zoomed out further. “And now, I leave you, knowing that I am humbly God’s servant here on earth. May God bless you all, and may God bless America with a millennium of universal tranquility. Thank you, and goodnight.”
Zack clicked the TV off, burped and spit his gum into the wastebasket. He turned and looked out his window. The sky had turned a majestic purple. He reflected. “Bullshit, Benny, just plain bullshit.”