“To me, Dirty Harry is a good role model. There was a man who didn’t
care about rules when he enforced the law. He knew who the bad
guys were, and he went after them. It’s too bad, in this age of
political correctness, that our leaders in Washington can’t
do the same.”
-Samuel Parsons, A Rogue At Ground Zero
“In the eyes of the law, all men should be treated equally, none should
should be exempt from its reach. If Lady Justice were to remove her
blindfold, it should only be to see that justice and law are
completely synonymous.”
Hal Simpson, Editorial in The Carlsbad Current Argus
The most-listened to radio station in Carlsbad was KRAP. Called K-Rap by its fans, it was simply called krap by Hal. Its musical offerings were a far cry from the songs of the late sixties Hal used to tune into late at night when his transistor AM radio could pick up the weak signal of KOMA from far off Oklahoma City. He couldn’t understand the local white redneck kids—the offspring of ranchers and farmers, of doctors and lawyers, of teachers and shopkeepers—who embraced rap’s lines of discontent. Somehow, some way, all these kids took the rhymes of black anger and rage and skewed them, made them their own. The Eminem kids, their baseball caps worn askew on the heads, the waists of their pants hanging halfway down their butts, their concerns not where their next meals were coming from but who was going to pick up the carry-out; most of them closet racists acting like black wannabees.
When did “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” become “Face Down, Ass Up” and “Love In The Mouth”? How did “Born To Be Wild” evolve into “Fuck The Police?” Wasn’t the jump from rock ‘n’ roll to gansta rap greater than the jump from Sinatra to Elvis?
Damn straight it was, Hal thought. Wonder if the Vanilla Icers ever noticed Ice T went from gangsta to a recurring role as a cop in Law & Order?
Like everyone else in Carlsbad, Hal was barraged with advertisements promising KRAP would carry every word of the Samuel Parsons media event. Not that he was afraid of missing it. Area television stations were airing it. Dozens of internet sites were streaming it. More than a few teachers wanted it to be mandatory watching for the kids in school. (Bet they were the same teachers that refused to give up school time for Obama’s 2009 speech to school kids when he preached the value of a good education, Hal thought.)
When the day of the speech came around, Hal was ready. He’d watch the speech on his television and listen to the audio simulcast in stereo on the radio through his speakers. Bet the bastard only broadcasts on the right channel. Dead silence from the left. It’d figure.
The speech was delivered from the LaMonde For President headquarters in Washington, DC. There were enough microphones set on the podium to suggest the whole world was listening. A loud and enthusiastic crowd filled the room to standing room only. The radio newscaster described General Kurt LaMonde’s spproach to the podium with the fervor generally reserved for that Hail Mary pass that saves a football game in its last few seconds. Hal had just returned to his study with a cold Ziegenbock beer when the familiar face reached the podium. He turned the stereo down as the screams of the crowd grew louder. When LaMonde put his hands up to quiet the crowd, they seemed to obey as if the scene were rehearsed. Hal turned the volume of the stereo up.
Fine man, great American, respected senator, yeah, yeah, yeah. Believes this. Believes that. Will do this for you. Will do that for you. Uh-huh. And what has he accomplished as senator so far? C’mon, answer me that. Rags to middle class (riches would be so un-American), hard working, never forgot his roots, will do as President what he did as senator (then Susan has nothing to worry about) . . . “Ladies and gentlemen here at Parsons headquarters, families at home in the United States and around the world, I present to you the man soon to win the Republican Party nomination for President; the man who will be elected President of our great country in November—Senator Samuel Parsons!”
Pandemonium seized the room. Confetti flew. People pushed toward the front. The noise of the audience seemed like it could drown out a jet engine. Hal hadn’t seen this kind of enthusiasm since the Beatles first appeared at Shea Stadium. Parsons seemed to be a god to these people. Many waved his book, A Rogue At Ground Zero, above their heads. Maybe if he could touch them, he could cure their craziness. He should have that power. Parsons reached the podium and shook hands with LaMonde. Hal had never appreciated how much shorter he was than the general. I always thought God would be a lot taller. Parsons grasp of the general’s hand seemed to Hal to last a second too long, like the hold of a man not quite sure of his surroundings and afraid to let go of that last hold of the familiar. He looked at his audience, back at LaMonde as he walked off the stage, and back at the audience again. He seemed to clear his throat, though Hal couldn’t hear anything other than the yells and cheers of the crowd. Parsons seemed content to let them go on cheering. He smiled, tentatively at first, then a full grin. He took in the crowd. He visibly became more confident, he didn’t seem to hold the podium quite so tightly, he no longer stood as erect. The crowd was his. He could say, he could do, whatever he wanted.
“Thank you, my friends, for that warm welcome.” He was still smiling as he looked back and forth at the crowd, even though his eyes never seemed to stray from the television camera. The cameras, too, focused on faces in the crowd; every one seemed to be in awe, the rapture imminent. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” More a statement than a question, it caused the crowd to erupt into cheers all over again. Finally, he began his speech.
“My friends, all of you who have worked so hard to help me, all of you who share my wish for a stronger America, and all of you who hear my voice, whether in this country or abroad, I want to thank you for the opportunity to talk with you today.” A pause as he turned a paper on the podium. “I expect to soon be given the Republican Party nomination for President . . .” The crowd roared before the second syllable of “President” had left his tongue. “For President of the United Sates of America. In November, I hope the good people to this country will follow through on that nomination and elect me President. And in January of next year, I expect to move into that White House down the street . . .” However he finished that sentence, Hal and everyone else in the world would never know for the cheers from the audience made all the earlier noise sound like practice. Hal scrambled to turn down the volume on his amplifier dial.
“What you see in front of you is what you vote for in November. I am a simple man and my plans for America are simple.” Simpleton, more likely. “Today, I want to share some of my thoughts and ideas with all of you. When you sign on the dotted line by pulling that voting booth lever in November, I want you to know what you’ve signed up for.” Cheers.
Suddenly the smile was gone. Parsons had the look of a teacher about to deliver a stern warning to his class. “We have endured eight years of inept direction—I can’t call it leadership—from the current administration. We are drowning under an administration that couldn't tread water in a puddle.” Cheers. Applause. Enough “mm-hmms” to make a gospel tent preacher proud. Hal threw a slipper at the television screen.
“My friends, look around you. In your homes, it’s harder to buy food for your table. It’s harder to pay your utilities bills. Why? Because this administration has allowed gasoline prices to go over five-dollars a gallon. The cost of bringing food to your town from our nation’s farms has increased five-fold over what it was a decade ago. The natural gas used to heat your homes in a five-year period could send your kid to a community college for four.
“And what happens when you can’t afford food for your table and heat in the winter? You get sick. And what do you do when you get sick? You go to the doctor. And then you know what? You wait in line. And wait and wait. And maybe die.” Catcalls. Anger. Down with the Democrats. “You wait in line because this administration’s health care initiative has decreased the level of healthcare to that of some third world country.” Roars of approval. You’ve got to be kidding me. Third world? “Or maybe you’re waiting in line because someone—he could be from Mexico, or Guatemala, or Colombia—got there a second before you did. And he’s taking a lot of time because he doesn’t speak English, because he’s not even a citizen, because he has a Medicaid card that lets him cut to the front of the line and get his poor broken fingernail cared for before you get treated for your heart attack!” Loud cries of “no, no” and more down with Obama chants. The second slipper hit the television.
“And who let this all happen?” Perhaps that was a rhetorical question, but the cries of the crowd gave away the presumed answer. Obama. Pelosi. Reid. The dead Kennedys.
“And that’s just at home. Look at your communities. Have crime rates been cut by this administration? Look at your states. Do they have the money to help solve your cities’ problems? Look at the federal government. We couldn’t even keep one little prison open in Cuba. So instead, we brought hundreds of terrorists into this country and put them into prisons where they mingle with American prisoners, and where it is very likely they will teach their terrorist ways to home-grown thieves and murderers." Loud groans. Hal reached for something else to throw at the television, but he couldn't see wasting a perfectly good half-filled bottle of beer. Hell, it wasn't his TV's fault.
“We’re at war in Iraq and Afghanistan. We have troops in Egypt, South Korea, and dozens of other countries. But are we safe? Shoe bombers, Christmas bombers, mosques in all major American cities, a country of armed druggies on our southern border, Christian values challenged in our courts . . . No, ladies and gentlemen, we are not safe. Our values are not safe. Our lives are not safe.” The audience was quiet. Parsons dramatically turned a page on the podium even though there were teleprompters in front of him.
“Which is why, my friends, I am happy you are giving me the opportunity to share with you my thoughts regarding what needs to be done to save our way of life. I have been in discussions with leaders of our party regarding our platform for the upcoming election. My recommendations to them are the recommendations I make to you today.
“My fellow Americans, extraordinary challenges face each and every one of you. These challenges face us when we are awake and when we sleep. They shadow us when we work, when we play, when we spend time with our families. Too often those in Washington offer us a short-term answer—window dressing to cover up a problem but never telling us how to end that problem which will still be there tomorrow, next month, and next year. Too often the politicos in Washington spend their time on their re-elections and not on their constituents. In other words, too often Washington politicians serve themselves and do not serve you . . .” The crowd erupted with cheers. Parsons let the cheering go on, then raised his hands to quiet the crowd. “The ugly truth is, your tax dollars are given to fat cat CEO’s of large corporations through government subsidies and bailouts and immoral contracts; then they give kickbacks to your so-called representatives in Washington. Washington has become a government of the dollar, for the dollar, and by the dollar.” Cheers again. He’s smooth. “As all of you know, I have limited my donations to one-hundred dollars a time from any and all who wish to fight alongside me to combat this problem. I am not beholden to corporations that are too big to fail. I am beholden only to the American people!” The cheers seemed to come in waves. $100 a time, people, can’t you read between the lines? Christ.
“Because your leaders have sold you out, both at home and abroad, we face threats to our well being we have never faced before. We must respond in ways we have never considered before.” Parsons’ pause was filled with cheers. Good God, he’s hired Stallone as his speechwriter. You’re the disease, I’m the cure. Wake up, people!
“Friends, fellow Americans, those who are listening to me in foreign lands, I have a ten-point program with which we can take back our country from those who wish to deny us our birthright. We must stand firm; we must stand together.
“I grew up with you, farmers, factory workers, store owners, guys working short shifts at Wal-Mart so they’re not eligible for overtime. Good people come from our small towns, people who are honest, sincere, and down-to-earth. People who love their country just like you and I love this country.” Cheers. Hal marveled at the hold Parsons had over the crowd. Damn if the crackpots don’t make the best speakers. “I’m not a permanent member of the Washington establishment. I’ll come and go, all dependent on what you, the voters, see fit.” Oooh, a say-it-ain’t-so-Joe moment. Give me a break. “But in a world of threats and dangers, I feel I—we—must all step forward and serve. To serve is not to organize. To serve is to get out there and do something. We do not need studies to understand the problem. We know the problems. We do not need political correctness to give us new words for problems; we need action to solve those problems, and if we step on a few toes, well, let them complain to Dr. Scholl.” Cheers. Nah, not even Stallone could write this tripe.
“Here then, my friends, are my Ten Tenets. They’re just my ideas, my suggestions for how to lift our ship of state and allow her to freely navigate the waters again. I have floated these ideas with those in sympathy with our cause, and all agree that we must act and act now. These tenets may change slightly with time, we may add a few more as times dictate, but friends, the time has come for action!” The cheers went on for what seemed like forever to Hal. He studies Parsons’ body language. He seemed completely at ease in front of the audience, the cameras, the world. Right now, that world was his oyster.
“One. The United States of America is a Christian nation.” Cheers, banners and “God Wants Samuel” signs waved wildly in the air. Oy vey. “I shall have Congress declare Christmas and Easter national holidays.” Cheering, louder and louder. Chants of “Samuel, Samuel, Samuel . . .” “We will take steps to insure that our schools, our courthouses, our city, county, state and Federal buildings all proudly display and promote our shared religious connections during all of the Easter and Christmas seasons. Our Jewish friends need not fear us, and with time we hope they will see fit to join us.
“As for others, we will tolerate no disrespect of our religious values. We will prohibit the building of any new mosque in the United States and its territories. As the Moslem world seems to have declared war on us, we will require all Moslems in this country to register with local boards and . . .” Hal could not hear the rest of the sentence over the cheering and applause. My God, are these people nuts? “Responsible historians cannot fault us for the internment of Japanese Americans on the west coast in World War II. Responsible Americans cannot fault us now for identifying potential enemies so that we may immediately act should any threat to our security arise.
“Two. If we are to again lead the world, it must be by example. We will therefore endeavor to improve family values in this country. Strong families will produce strong, healthy intelligent individuals. The government must recognize its obligation to see that American families hear the truth, not lies; see the light, not propaganda; breathe the air of freedom and not filth. I will therefore empower and instruct the Federal Communications Commission to more broadly examine, revise, and censor if necessary, all movies, television shows, books, internet postings, magazines and newspapers so that Americans hear only the truth, understand what is good about this great country of ours, and no longer question their true place in this dangerous world.”
Hal watched as cameras panned faces in the crowd. Not a single face seemed concerned that they were giving up their freedom in the name of freedom. Are they even listening? All were cheering, waving placards in the air, applauding. This wasn’t the backwater redneck crowd, these were women in tiaras, teens with Gucci and Coach bags slung over their shoulders, men in expensive black leather jackets, a few in tuxedos. Is Susan watching this? Canada. Freedom of the press. The Bill of Rights. Good God.
“Three. We must strengthen our borders. We can no longer allow illegal immigrants into this country. American jobs for American workers!” Again, the crowd went ballistic. Parsons continued once the noise began to die down, “I will instruct our Border Patrol to shoot on sight any foreigner illegally entering this county after one warning to turn around and leave. I will see that amnesty is granted to any state militia member involved in any kind of incident that occurs while protecting the rightful borders of this country.” You’re giving the keys to the asylum to the patients.
“Four. We are in a deep recession. We do not have enough jobs for ourselves. Preventing illegal immigration is only one step in keeping American jobs for Americans. We will also severely limit legal immigration from Central and South America, Asia, and Eastern Europe. Until we have full employment at home, we will not give our jobs to Johnny-Come-Latelys who can’t find jobs in their own countries.” And the Ohio and Michigan electoral votes go to . . .
Parsons looked at his audience. He paused and seemed to be ignoring his prepared notes. “And here is another thought that I’m sure is on the minds of many of you. We are, ladies and gentlemen, I say it again, in a deep recession. We cannot afford to meet the requirements of American taxpayers in America. Why do we continue to give billions of dollars to people around the world who neither care nor respect us? A Parsons administration will severely slash foreign aid. We will give American dollars to the Americans who need it!” While the audience cheered loudly, Parsons found his place and returned to his scripted speech.
“Five. Until we have full employment in this country, we must protect our workers not only from foreigners who covet their jobs, but from the corporations that exploit them.” You say that and you’re a poplulist. I say that and I’m a Communist. Damn. “My administration will force oil producing companies to bring gasoline prices down below one-dollar a gallon.” Maelstrom. That’s the word for that audience. There will be no more multi-million dollar executive bonuses while the minimum hourly wage in this country buys no more than one gallon of gas and a hot dog. We will force Middle East oil producers to re-invest our money in our country and not with terrorist groups. We will bring prices down so that each and every one of you can have more.” It’s another reality show with no basis in reality. I’ve invited Huey Long, Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde to dinner and what do I do now?
“Six. Friends, others have talked about it. We will do it. We will force tax reform onto Congress. There will be no more income tax in this country!” Hal scrambled to turn down the volume again as the applause from the crowd rattled a small vase set on a shelf near his right speaker.
“Seven. We will accomplish new methods of judicial review. No longer will judges who mollycoddle criminals be allowed to keep their benches. If prosecutors can’t give us the convictions we want, if judges can’t hand down the punishments that criminals deserve, they will be replaced!” Hal’s conversation with his brother played back in his mind.
“Eight. Now, I know this will offend liberals in my audience.” Like you haven’t already? “But we can create jobs in this country, so this brings me to my eighth point. We will eliminate welfare to all but those who cannot work because they are invalids.” Samuel! Samuel! Samuel! “Your neighbor doesn’t want to work? Okay, he doesn’t have to work. And you and I don’t have to work to support him. If we cut off his welfare check, we will have more money left for programs to serve the people paying the taxes. And you know what? The liberals say that this poor, non-working Joe will starve. But you and I know that he’s like the family pet—if you change the food, he may not eat it for a few days, but soon enough, when he’s hungry enough, he’ll come around. Soon enough, when he’s hungry enough, your neighbor will get a job.” What are these people thinking? Where are their minds?
“Nine. We will force our schools and universities to teach American youth American values. Teachers and professors who espouse anti-American ideas will be released. Core curricula will be evaluated by a strengthened Department of Education. Taxpayer dollars will not allow kids to float through college taking basket weaving classes, learning dead languages they can’t speak to anyone, or attending divisive courses like Black history, Latino history, or women’s history. We are all Americans; our children will all learn American history!” Predictable cheering again. Parsons had a smug look on his face. “University students in California made fun of Ronald Regan when he wanted reform some four decades ago. Today those students have grown up, they have their own children in college, and they have seen the errors of their ways.
“Ten. I will strengthen the American military.” Again the crowd went wild. Cries of “LaMonde, LaMonde, LaMonde” mingled with the repetition of the name “Parsons.” We will not be threatened by failed Communist societies like China and Russia. We will not be held at bay by Taliban or Moslem insurgents in Iraq and Afghanistan. We will fight our enemies wherever they go; we will not be held accountable by some puppet government in Pakistan. We will tell Ahmadinejad just what he can do with his whining and his threats. We will no longer tolerate violence crossing the border from Mexico.
“We have the strongest military in the world. We have the most virtuous outlook of any country in the history of the world. We will no longer be held back in helping rid the world of its dictators and despots. We beat the pirates of Tripoli, we defeated the Central and the Axis powers, we kicked Saddam Hussein out of power, we hold the North Korean regime to the thirty-eighth parallel. We can and we will beat the Taliban. We will no longer hold back. General LaMonde had advocated the use of all the weapons we control to defeat these people. Why should we continue to fight with one hand tied behind our back?” Hal was sure that the loud applause that greeted Parsons’ words in his election headquarters were matched only by the collective sighs and gasps of the rest of the world.
His cell phone rang. “Can you talk?” It was Susan. Her voice seemed to quiver slightly. “Ruthie’s in the other room. It’s okay.”
“Are you watching the speech?” she asked.
“Yes.” He wanted to say more but honestly didn’t know what to add.
“He’s a fucking fanatic.” Yeah, I guess I could have said that. “Hillary’s crowds don’t have the enthusiasm his do. He’ll be elected, you know. If he has his way, freedom of the press—my God, freedom period. It’s gone. He’ll find a way to steamroll Congress. Mitchell Palmer will look like Miss Manners next to this guy.”
Hal sighed. He couldn’t tell Susan anything she wasn’t already thinking. He didn’t want to point out the latest tracking polls he’d reviewed; Parsons’ lead over Hillary was widening. “Yeah, I guess the Alien and Sedition Act will be nothing compared to what’s coming.”
“Fuck. President Joe McCarthy. What’s happened to this country?’
I wish I knew. Or more correctly, I wish I knew what I could do about it.
“Please come by.”
“I’ll check on Ruthie after Parsons is done and come over after she goes to bed.”
