OediPOTUS Wrecks: Finale

by Smitty

(Start here) Character List
Synopsis:

1. In the Prologue, a Rose Garden press conference announces a connection between the tanked economy to a monstrous evil pertaining to the death of the 42nd POTUS.
2. Scene I brings in a prophetess with a palindromic name and a chip on her shoulder. Verbal sparring ensues, ending in an accusation.
3. Scene II has Ramen the Chief of Staff trying to clear himself as a suspect. The question of the death of the 42nd POTUS looms. His widow, Cthulia, the Secretary of State under OediPOTUS, arrives to try to defuse the situation.
4. Scene III has an old family friend come to announce the death of the man who was a father to OediPOTUS. The news brings little comfort, as unsustainable tragedy begins a methodical turn to farce.
5. In the final installment, the mysterious Rosor arrives to tie everything up, in his fashion.

OediPOTUS enters, paces

OediPOTUS Wrecks: When will this doctor arrive?

Sandy Hamburger and Esarhaddon Cyphre enter

Sandy Hamburger: Your family doctor, Esarhaddon Cyphre, Mr. President.

OW: You're related to Ramen? I guess I never made the connection.

Esarhaddon Cyphre: Brothers, yes. We're everywhere. "You can't de-Cyphre the world," as we like to joke. But this is not the time for stand-up. The news is terrible. Kerry Kennedy has passed. My condolences, Mr. President.

OW: Thank you. But I didn't drag you here for an obituary. Sandy has stated that you know something important about my birth. From where did I come?

EC: Ah, that detail. This is not easy.

OW: Indeed. My entire worldview is upended. I really don't know where I came from, where I am, or where I should go.

EC: I understand. This isn't easy. What I can tell you is that we took an embryo from the fertility clinic that originally came from--

Cthulia enters

Cthulia: Mr. President, I have come to proffer my resignation. I can no longer serve in your cabinet. This looks completely disloyal, given that the international situation is as bad a shambles as the domestic. However, with your sudden focus on ancient history, and unwillingness to heed wise counsel, there really isn't anything more to accomplish.

OW: No problem. I only needed you for the votes, never trusted you fully, and have been seeking to undermine you at every opportunity. Please go on, Dr. Cyphre.

EC: Well, since she's here, I'll announce that the embryo implanted in Olga Kennedy was removed from a British fertility clinic, and that one of the provisions of Kerry Kennedy's will was that you be made aware that Cthulia Williams is, in fact, your mother.

Here: puke into this.

Cthulia screams, exits, leaving OediPOTUS heaving into a wastebasket


OW: Ohgodohgodohgod, but…I didn't kill Williams, did I? How can this inconceivable thing be happening?

Enter Rosor

Rosor: OediPOTUS, you ignorant slut. You have managed to destroy everything. One derives a foolproof plan; the universe produces a bigger fool.

I needed a moron to accomplish my task of destroying the US economy, in service of the goal of a unified world government. Jefferson Williams was the seed moron, as a father and President. Yet that Vast Right Wing Conspiracy kept Pettifogger from winning the election in 2000. However, Sphinxor proved quite the silicon boob when he was in office: obvious; defiant of everything, including gravity. The consolation party for Pettifogger was to be the time I revealed the grand design to both of you.

You managed not only to be late to the soirée, but to kill your own sire in a feat of vehicular manslaughter. Bravo. Manipulating the investigation to keep you out of trouble was a challenge. Brainwashing you to forget being fished out of the water, and depositing your bewildered butt in Newport proved so trivial as to be sad.

OW: What are you TALKING ABOUT?

R: I made you. Every bit of your political rise was due to me. Every person who advised you, every event that seemed due to your supposed brilliance, every tragic boo-boo that seemed to occur to your foes, is entirely due to my Machiavellian machinations. Roughly the only thing I could not do is prevent you from destroying yourself as a result of your own arrogance and incompetence. You are fired.

OW: Liar! I am the President of the United States! I used all of the tools of Alinsky to beat my foes as fairly as anyone else! Only the Congress can remove me, and I'll bury them in peaches before any impeaches. I'm sick of your phone calls, giving me orders all the time. I'm the PRESIDENT. You can't take this office. No, you can't take that away from me!

Guards appear and move toward OW to take him under control. He struggles.

R: Oh, dear. That fragile mind has snapped. *sigh* Who did we put on the ticket as Vice President, again? Bring in that bit of Folderol.


Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

Continuing to whet the literary appetite

by Smitty

McSweeney's has an ADD version of Hamlet.

Ophelia loves flowers. Flowers flowers flowers flowers flowers. Oh, look, a river.

Two hours until the finale of OediPOTUS Wrecks.

For those seeking the Grail

by Smitty

Chance at Rightofcourse maps a classic Monty Python scene to the current political situation.

That'll whet your whistle for the finale to OediPOTUS Wrecks, coming up in ~3.5 hours.

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Scene III

by Smitty

(Start here) Character List
Synopsis:

1. In the Prologue, a Rose Garden press conference announces a connection between the tanked economy to a monstrous evil pertaining to the death of the 42nd POTUS.
2. Scene I brings in a prophetess with a palindromic name and a chip on her shoulder. Verbal sparring ensues, ending in an accusation.
3. Scene II has Ramen the Chief of Staff trying to clear himself as a suspect. The question of the death of the 42nd POTUS looms. His widow, Cthulia, the Secretary of State under OediPOTUS, arrives to try to defuse the situation.
4. Scene III has an old family friend come to announce the death of the man who was a father to OediPOTUS. The news brings little comfort, as unsustainable tragedy begins a methodical turn to farce.
5. Finally, farce grinds to a halt as the mysterious Rosor ties the tubes up for everyone.
   

Cthulia wanders into the Rose Garden, thinking aloud

Cthulia: What to do with OediPOTUS? He's so wrapped up in the past. None of my usual means of reaching him appear to be working…

Sandy Hamburger enters

Sandy Hamburger: Do you know where OediPOTUS is? I have news that he should really hear first.

C: Oh, come on. What else has gone wrong.

SB: I never said this to you, but Kerry Kennedy has died.

C: I see. This is bad news, but maybe it will get his mind off of that evil Hanah woman and her accusations.

Enter OediPOTUS

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Cthulia, you sent for me?

C: There is news.

OW: Who is this man, and why is he standing oddly, as if there was something in his shoe?

C: Sandy Hamburger has lost some weight lately, so maybe you fail to recognize him. He stands like that out of the longstanding habit of keeping reading material in his footwear. But that's not important right now. He is just come from Martha's Vineyard. Your father has died.

OW: This is horrible news. What happened, Sandy?

SH: He signed up for POTUScare. The Death Panel decided that his usefulness to society was expended, and some deadbeat should receive treatment instead. We tried to argue with him against the patriotic folly of signing up for POTUScare, but, well, you know how stubborn he could be about the need for Progress at all cost. Including, we see, his life.

OW: Well, that whacky Oedipus Rex prophecy is disproven, as I haven't seen the old duffer since I won the election.

C: See?

OW: Well, Olga von Kleindrubble Kennedy, my mother, is still alive. A partial fulfillment would be horrible on several levels.

SH: Olga? What's the worry, modulo the fact that she's beyond botox? She may have carried you to term, but she's not your mother.

OW: Run that by me again?

SH: Look, she survived ovarian cancer before she married Kerry Kennedy. She was medically incapable of producing a child.

OW: This gets weirder by the moment. So if she is not my biological mother, is Kerry Kennedy my father? Do I have any clue as to my heritage? Do I even have time to deal with this whole mystery of where I came from and who killed Williams, and why the economy is tanked? This situation is completely wee-weed up.

SH: All I can tell you is that you should rely on the judgment of Ramen and Cthulia.

C: Why don't you keep your mind focused on the economy. We can have a combination Roots and Ellery Queen episode later.

OW: Right. Ramen is still on my poo-pooh list. But I have to know, or it will eat at me: where did I come from?

SH: You could ask your old family doctor, from back in the day before POTUScare. Coincidentally, he was my doctor, too, so I have him on speed dial.

Pulls out cell phone, makes a call. Brief exchange, nods.

He'll be on a flight here in two hours, and can explain everything.

C: Listen to me. Why are you wasting time on this? How do events of forty years ago have the slightest bearing on the current problems? Do you think that this doddering old fool doctor has records of what went on? You should drop this irrelevant inquiry right now.

OW: Cthulia, you're not my mother! I will not listen to you, do you hear? The truth must be made known. You know as well as I do that the economy is still going to be tanked in months out. I can't unwind in one year the mistakes that Sphinxor made over eight. The fact that I can have success in pursuing the answer to a small, yet important question like 'How did I get here?' is crucial to me holding on to sanity right now. This question represents the bottom of this current quagmire. We get through this, and the slope is totally positive on the other side. The question is a millstone around my neck: I have to deal with it.

C: You absolutely miserable fool! You're so stupid as to defy description. I've had all I can stand of this crap!

Cthulia runs off

OW: Bring on the crap. I have to know this. I'm an American citizen, born the usual way. Even if my mother was a hamster and my father smelled of elderberries, I'd need to track down this answer. That's just the way it…is.

Tomorrow, 28 August 09, 12:01 EST: OediPOTUS Wrecks: Finale.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Scene II

by Smitty

(Start here) Character List
Synopsis:

1. In the Prologue, a Rose Garden press conference announces a connection between the tanked economy to a monstrous evil pertaining to the death of the 42nd POTUS.
2. Scene I brings in a prophetess with a palindromic name and a chip on her shoulder. Verbal sparring ensues, ending in an accusation.
3. Scene II has Ramen the Chief of Staff trying to clear himself as a suspect. The question of the death of the 42nd POTUS looms. His widow, Cthulia, the Secretary of State under OediPOTUS, arrives to try to defuse the situation.
   

Still in the Rose Garden

RLC: My job is to support and defend the President, in spite of these heavy accusations. And that's what I intend to do, even if I'm getting hit with some fragments while on the job.

MO: Everyone was getting just a little bit spun up. That lady sure knows how to push peoples' buttons. I'm not sure I've ever seen the President that distracted.

RLC: The implication that I had put those words in her mouth stung a bit.

MO: Again, I wouldn't take it too seriously. She provoked him.

RLC: Are you sure? Was it clear that he wasn't fully deliberate when he said that?

MO: I'd rather avoid speculation, but here is OediPOTUS himself.

Enter OediPOTUS

OW: Ramen: you're back. Are you so stupid that you don't think I've got your number, or so brazen that you think you've got mine? It's obvious that, since no one would vote for you in the election, you simply discredit me, and have Vice President Folderol nominate you as his VP, then arrange for his impeachment, and become President yourself. Who said Fordism is dead?

RLC: Am I allowed to speak at any point?

OW: You can confess everything.

RLC: I would appreciate the privilege. I confess that I have no idea what crimes I have committed, save completely honorable loyalty and devoted service.

OW: Sending for Hanah was your idea, no?

RLC: Absolutely, and I wouldn't hesitate to restate the suggestion.

OW: Fair enough. Now, when exactly did Jefferson Williams--

RLC: Williams? What's he got to do with Hanah?

OW: How long, exactly, since Williams perished?

RLC: Nine years, seven months, plus or minus a week.

OW: And Hanah, was she representing some Alaskan hell-hole in Congress at the time?

RLC: Sure. Quite a bridge-builder, she was.

OW: Did her bridge building reach me?

RLC: No, you were still cruising on the Chicago radar scope at the time, way below the national picture.

OW: Right. Now, Sphinxor's inquiry into the death of Williams: was my name anywhere in the report, even in a draft?

RLC: Well, no. I've only looked at the final version, but your name would have stuck out, were it included.

OW: So, is it reasonable to assert that, if Hanah had evidence on me in the case at the time, and said nothing, then the guilt is all on her?

RLC: I'm not sure. That would depend on the nature of the evidence.

OW: Well, if she didn't get that evidence from someone conspiring against me, say, you, I don't know how she'd have formed the accusation that I killed Williams.

RLC: If she said that, then she must have somehow gleaned it from you. But let me cross-examine you.

OW: Fair enough. I'm no killer.

RLC: First, then: you're the President?

OW: I won.

RLC: And I work for you?

OW: For certain conspiratorial values of 'work'.

RLC: Let me walk you through my thinking. First, look at how much you've aged in a year. Have I told you how much I enjoy my mattress? As your Chief of Staff, I enjoy the substantial benefit of your aura, without so much of the stress.

When I call on your behalf, to carry out your policy, I get results, but I'm not a slave to policy, getting my face ripped off by the conservative blogs on a daily basis. Monthly, perhaps. However, right where I am is just fine by me: helping you get the credit, while substantially dodging the blame. Prior to this day, the arrangement had seemed a good one.

But let us re-open the investigation. If you find me in any way guilty of doing anything other than the best job possible, including bringing in cranky old Hanah for advice, or even conspiring with her to do something unspeakable, then fire me.

However, don't debase leadership capital through questionable accusations. Seek facts.

MO: Very well said, Ramen. Judgments too quickly formed are dangerous.

OW: Oh, really? That speech was more than a play-action fake? Something meant to distract, while other actions occur off-stage, so that you can spring a trap on a man who spends too much time thinking and talking, and not enough time taking action?

RLC: Hey, if you're interested in a resignation letter, I can make that happen.

OW: No, I want your duplicity laid bare, so that the entire, suffering country is clear as to the source of my problems and theirs.

RLC: So you're insisting on clinging to accusation, at the expense of investigation?

OW: Why should I even listen to you?

RLC: It looks like you picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

OW: You are evil incarnate!

RLC: Maybe, just maybe, you've misjudged the entire situation.

OW: Yet, I'm the President, and I have to press on.

RLC: Not if you've already run your ship aground.

OW: Oh, the poor country.

RLC: It's my country, too, Mr. President.

MO: Gentlemen, the Secretary of State has come from Foggy Bottom. Possibly she can employ a bit of diplomacy, and diffuse the situation.

Enter Cthulia

C: What is all the noise about? The country is falling apart and metaphorically burning, and you two trade riffs on the fiddles. Ramen, if you'll excuse us, I need to discuss some policy with the President. Let's set aside the trivia, please.

RLC: Trivia? I'm close to being fired for sedition here.

OW: Seriously, Cthulia: he's plotting against me.

RLC: I'd take the death penalty if that was true.

C: Give it a rest, Mr. President.

MO: Seriously!

OW: OK, then what should I do?

C: Take Ramen at his word.

OW: Oh, fine then, and let me be kicked out. Wherever Ramen goes, hatred will follow him.

RLC: Thanks for nothing. Your personality is your punishment.

OW: You can resign, you know.

RLC: Considering it. My reputation is intact with everyone but you.

MO: Madame Secretary, didn't you request a meeting with the President?

C: Yes, but first, just what is all of the racket about?

MO: There has been a series of accusations this afternoon between Hanah, Ramen, and OediPOTUS, but no follow-up yet.

C: Specifically?

MO: We'd be better off to let it go, and consider the economy. Everyone is frazzled.

C: Hm. OediPOTUS, blasting Ramen and Hanah helps how, exactly?

OW: Ramen and Hanah plot against me.

C: Oh, really?

OW: Yes. Ramen accuses me of murdering your husband.

C: Husband? Oh, yes: him. Yes, I had successfully put away the…pain. I should thank you--I mean, uh, we should be thankful that we have a legal system that requires evidence in these cases. Has Ramen got any?

OW: No, he just brought in Hanah to drop accusations.

C: Oh, well, she doesn't have anything that could stand up in court. Did you know that, when Jeffy and I were newlywed, he was a Rhodes Scholar, and we were in England?

OW: Something about bad air over there, and he couldn't inhale freely?

C: Right. I was young, and wanted to get the children out of the way, but, well, Jeffy had some problems with sperm count. He simply wasn't the man you are, wink-wink. So we had to use a fertility clinic. I was impregnated, and we went to Devon on a weekend. Some distant cousin of his was in the cast of Oedipus Rex at a theater called the Oracle.

The tragedy was on us, though. The fetus was imperfect, and did not survive. Oedipus means "swollen foot", you know, and the shepherd was supposed to tie up the infant's feet prior to exposing the child.

Now, Jeffy could have been running around on me even then, and sired the terrorists who killed him, I suppose. But I doubt it. Things hadn't soured between us, as far as I knew, until we made it back to Louisiana.

At any rate, unless you were running around in the Middle East somewhere in your youth, I don't see how you're tied Jeffy's…sad demise in any way.

OW: I just had a weird tingling sensation run up my leg. The Oracle at Devon…

C: Yes?

OW: After I finished up at Harvard, I went on a highly educational vacation to Europe for a few months.

C: Is that where you learned that one thing you do with--

OW: Don't distract me, you. While wandering England, I happened through Devon and also caught Oedipus Rex at the Oracle at Devon. A strangely compelling production.

C: Hm. Well, that's fine trivia, but it isn't helping either the domestic or the international situation. Maybe we need another offsite in Aspen, just you and me, to…focus.

OW: No, we need to get to the bottom of this here and now. What was Jefferson Williams like? They always paint the portrait early in the administration, before the real grind sets in.

C: About your height, graying at the temples, certainly exhausted by eight years in the job that should have rightfully been mine, you naughty little campaigner. Why don't we have the FBI send over an agent familiar with the case for a debrief?

OW: Yes, please do. The economy, the death of Williams. It all seems so weighty, but disconnected. I may need to see a shrink.

C: You can confide in me, too..

OW: You're right. I feel like I'm about to explode. My parents were Kerry and Olga Kennedy. I grew up in Newport, Rhode Island…sailing…swimming. I was partying at Harvard, naked, of course, when a tipsy fellow announced to all present that I'm not a natural Kennedy. Talk about shrinkage.

So I asked mum and da about it when next I visited the Martha's Vineyard compound. They became very defensive, and called my classmate a scurrilous, foolish, drunken idiot. He didn't seem that drunk at the time, but I mostly forgot about the whole thing.

Then, I saw Oedipus Rex, and realized I needed to make sure that I never saw Kerry or Olga again. And I stayed away from home for a couple of years. But that was stupid, so, when they were hosting a fundraiser for you and Williams after Pettifogger lost the election to Sphinxor in 2000, I decided it was time to man up and go see them again.

Unfortunately, and this is the weird part, I never made the party. I woke up in Newport, Rhode Island, with no recollection of the week leading up to that party, or why I'd not been in attendance.

Now, I'd been the one driving in the head-on collision that killed Williams, and been thrown in the water, I could have swum to Rhode Island. I was into distance swimming at the time.

The good thing is that Kerry Kennedy was not in that car. Otherwise, in a spooky way, I'd have been carrying out Oedipus Rex. To think that I was the source of the manslaughter. Heh. That's nearly as twisted as the economic situation.

MO: Well, there is still the file to review. And maybe some DNA comparisons would be a good idea.

OW: True. Also, there is the matter of the report of Williams dying as part of a terrorist attack, not some prosaic car crash. That overshadows any spooky aspects of my memory.

C: That's absolutely true. Let's not fret more about these premonitions until we've studied the facts.

Exit

(Scene III)

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Scene I

by Smitty

(Start here) Character List
Synopsis:

1. In the Prologue, a Rose Garden press conference announces a connection between the tanked economy to a monstrous evil pertaining to the death of the 42nd POTUS.
2. Scene I brings in a prophetess with a palindromic name and a chip on her shoulder. Verbal sparring ensues, ending in an accusation.

Still in the Rose Garden.

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Everyone unite behind me! I admit that I'm johnny-come-lately come to this quagmire. I don't mind being responsible for the cleanup, but I do want the obstructionists to get out of the way so we can clean up the mess.

Let me be perfectly clear: we're going to have an ex-Presidential Assassination Investigation Czar going over this case with a fine-toothed comb and a magnet. He'll be reporting to me, so I can make sure that none of the information discovered is distorted by the usual suspects, and goes instead directly to the people.

Whoever is responsible for the death of Jefferson Williams is going down. I will not hesitate to pardon anyone helping to solve the mystery that my incompetent predecessor left for me to solve, even if they're worried about self-incrimination. My word is more powerful than the 5th Amendment. Oh guilty one: you are pardoned in advance. Merely come forward, help us reach justice, and help the economy so terribly beset by this evil.

Jefferson Williams was an honorable American; not to denigrate my own father, but I would have been proud to call President Williams 'dad'. Sadly, he had no sons to avenge his demise, so that duty falls to me. As always, I rise to the occasion.

Matthew Olberchrist: I swear it wasn't me, but I have a suggestion: why not ask the Oracle that pointed out the problem where to find the perpetrator?

OW: Excellent point, but who commands destiny? Surely not one as humble as I.

MO: There is someone, some say a clairvoyant. You do remember your election opponent, Hanah, from the opposition ticket?

OW: Her fame is well known, and I've authorized Ramen to send for her. You'd think she'd have had time to heal from the 2008 election and trek here from Alaska by now.

MO: About that old investigation file from Jefferson's death: it seems rather useless. However, anyone still alive who knows anything should be shaken loose by your proclamation. We should start a fresh round of hearings.

Enter blind Hanah, led by a functionary.

MO: Here is someone whose instincts and knowledge may help.

OW: Hanah, oh ye of the palin-dromic name (heh). They say you know most everything, with the exception of how to win elections. You know the economic situation. You've no doubt heard the rumors surrounding this old crime that must be solved before we can turn the corner on this unpleasantness.

If you have any wisdom that you can lend to the problem, I shall thank you in advance for the patriotic help you lend.

Hanah: Looks like I picked the wrong week to go cold turkey on the kickin' chicken[1]. This ain't goin' to go well. Can I just leave?

OW: How ungracious! How can you ignore the plight of your country?

H: Easy. There's no pickin' up a turd by the clean end. And that's about what you got here, mister. I'd rather quit while I'm behind. You brought me here to make fun of me. I was told a serious discussion is why you called me up.

OW: For heaven's sake, we beg you--

H: Keep begging. When you reach sincerity, heaven may hear. 'Til then, I'll keep the misery to myself.

OW: So you do know something, yet you place your feelings above the State? Selfish woman!

H: If I thought there was a point, I'd tell you. What part of "NO" didn't you get? The N, or the O?

OW: You are so out of line! Can you not grasp the crisis? Are you out of your mind?

H: You callin' me crazy? Heh, if only you could see yourself.

OW: In my office, you'd be equally upset. We're awash in crisis, you have information, and you're not sharing. How does this help?

H: Like it makes a difference. We're doomed, dude. It's gonna get us.

OW: What is this "it"?

H: Takin' the Fifth, bucko. Rage, as if against the machine.

OW: Rage? Why not? I think this is all your doing. You set the whole scenario up, you and henchmen, just to engineer your own sort of coup. Had you eyes, I'd say you killed Jefferson Williams yourself.

H: Oh, really? Since you accuse me, I'll return the favor. Your own curse comes back to haunt you, for you killed Jefferson Williams.

OW: Oh, "Get thee glass eyes, and, like a scurvy politician, seem to see things thou dost not," said King Lear, and it applies to you, as well. Should you be allowed to go free, after this hate speech?

H: I am free, in the truth.

OW: Slander! I thought you, rather, a speaker of knowledge. Where did you learn such?

H: From you. I'd have kept my peace, but you made me say it.

OW: Say what? I heard you echo an accusation.

H: Wasn't it clear the first time?

OW: Again, for the internet audience.

H: I said you are the murderer you seek.

OW: That's twice!

H: More? Where is this gettin' us?

OW: Say anything, no one believes your lies.

H: I say you live a life of twisted shame, and you're blind to your own evil.

OW: Oh, sure. Troll on.

H: No problem, when what I say is true.

OW: If only you knew the truth, you sightless, witless, senseless, mad old crone.

H: That would be you. Mad as a hatter. Soon they'll all curse you, for that matter.

OW: Look, you have no power. You're like so many fools trying to question my birth certificate.

H: That's for sure. Your fate comes from elsewhere. Jimmie crack corn, and I never cared two hoots in the first place. Others do, though.

OW: Who, Ramen?

H: Pshaw. Ramen's not your problem. You are your problem.

OW: How could I not see Ramen's hand in all of this? He has been present at every turn, aiding my ascension, and now standing to reap the fortune of my woe.

MO: Both of you are overly passionate right now. How is this helping? Kum-ba-yah, my Lord, kum-ba-yah...

H: You are the President. But that don't mean the 1st Amendment is a Rodney Dangerfield joke. You mock my disability? I see more clearly than you, bub. Your life is too messed up for Jerry Springer. Do you really know who your parents are? Go ahead. Blame me. Blame Ramen. You put the F in "false".

OW: OK, I've had enough of you. Begone.

H: Wouldn't have come here in the first place, if I could have avoided it, you clown.

OW: How was I supposed to anticipate you'd act a total fool?

H: Fool? Your parents said I was sane.

OW: Again, my parents. Who were they then, in your wisdom?

H: This day will reveal your father. Break your heart, too.

OW: More facts, less crap! I don't have time for your conundrums.

H: You won an election talkin' up your skill at solving them.

OW: Keep up the mockery.

H: Your skill at solving problems made your main one.

H turns to functionary.

May I have your hand, please?

OW: Yes, lead this hag from my site.

H: At my age, I can speak my mind to any audience. The murderer of Jefferson Williams is here in DC. He'll be found rather close to the victim, but that revelation won't please a soul. He's a blind man, currently sighted, a beggar with bank, at the moment. He loves his mother with an affection some might call strange.

Let me know later if I got that wrong, and then you can say I should stick to palm reading.


Exit H stage left, OW center

Scene II

---

[1] Wild Turkey
Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

OediPOTUS Wrecks: First Blog Review!

by Smitty

The Camp of the Saints wins three whole internets!

Granted, this is a bit of a cheat: because Bob supports this blog so well, I emailed him the whole enchilada, plus some of the background notes. Also, I gather he's familiar with the original work that I'm abusing.

Nevertheless, here is an excerpt, just in case you want to borrow from his impressive ego-massage technique:

Short Review: Love it!

Full Review: Smitty has taken the classic story of the tragic Greek king and meshed it wonderfully with the spirit of the story of Barack Hussein Obama to form an amusingly witty take on the current political scene, complete with the classic theme of vaulting ambition. It is an old truth that Hubris begets Nemesis [When the Fates are against you, watch out.], and we have been living through seven long months of Hubris Gone Wild. The time is right for a corrective and Smitty supplies it, if only fictionally. We may find, however, that he is our Delphic Oracle.

OediPOTUS Wrecks: Prologue

by Smitty

Character Listing

Prologue

A Press Conference in the Rose Garden.

OediPOTUS: My fellow Americans. I have done a wonderful job, as you know, in spite of the naysayers. I have saved you from the threat of another failed President like Sphinxor, rescuing you out from under the bus of his tyranny, restoring the economy, renewing the place of the United States in the world. Thank you for coming here today, but please temper the adulation. One would not wish to grow egotistical in the process of serving such a flawed, but not entirely irredeemable country.

Now, I understand that some on the other side are continuing to spread misinformation, so I've called this conference to gather the straight dope.

Thomasina? As the senior member of the press corps, I'm sure that you've located the pulse of what you think is gnawing at the people. Please give us the unfiltered, no-spin details. You'll find me, as always, the soul of helpfulness.

Thomasina Helenson: Mr. President, peace be upon you. And also on the poor of the country, one in four of whom lack employment, thanks to the Sphinxor; while the drought destroys the harvest thanks to the weather; and trade is non-existent, thanks to the ill-will pent up against our land during the previous administration around the world.

We understand that you're but a mortal, albeit one of surpassing intellect and urbane upbringing.

We know that, lacking your wise counsel, things would be two to three times as bad, according to MoveOn.org.

However, we need more. It is not enough that you have saved the banks, and the auto industry, and fought valiantly to ensure fairness, justice, and equality for all Americans, taking the good fight into the teeth of the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy to Thwart Progress. We need action, and we need it quickly, to save us from the demagogues who, even now, stir up discontent against your wise policies, citing ancient documents whose words have lost all meaning.

OW: I feel your question. Let me respond. You may be sure that I knew of these haters, peddling falsehood and fear in an attempt to derail the recovery. No one feels the pain of the empty belly of the child in the bread line more than I. The pain is such that even the blessing of rest escapes me, in my anguish. I have sent the members of Congress to scour the planet in search of clues, to check against my internal grasp of what must be done. For example, Charlie Rangel has gone to the Punta Cana Yacht Club in the Dominican Republic in search of ideas. Also, Chris Dodd has repaired to a shack in Ireland, and intends a stop by the Oracle, in Devon, England, in search of clues. The country is in the very best of hands.

TH: And here is your Chief of Staff, Ramen Lewis Cyphre, perhaps with a report.

OW: And what good news do you have for the American people, Ramen?

Ramen Lewis Cyphre: Great challenges will be overcome, so long as we remain united.

OW: Listening to my speeches on your iPod yields dividends, though we need to work on your pacing. Nevertheless, can you be more specific and forceful? The people hear you not, over the growling of the collective belly.

RLC: Can you not allow me to indulge my usual modesty? The news is somewhat…complex, and may digest better initially in confidence.

OW: Ramen, your usual demure behavior can not be given free reign in a situation this dire. The people suffer, and I with them, not the least of which due to these delays in communicating information. Out with it.

RLC: Fair enough. The report from Dodd is that his cottage needs a new roof, and Devon reports that we must "expel from the land…an old defilement we are sheltering. It is a deathly thing, beyond cure; we must not let it feed upon us longer."

OW: What is Devon on about? How do we rid ourselves of this…foe betting against Hope and Change?

RLC: Exile or death. Murder helped this foulness rise to become a threat.

OW: Murder? While I never had time to prosecute much, focusing on rising to the level where I could do battle with the naysayers, I would love to have a Perry Mason moment. Who is the victim, and when can we get a 'reliable' special prosecutor in from Chicago, just in case the truth becomes inconvenient?

RLC: President Jefferson Williams, your predecessor's predecessor.

OW: JW, Secretary of State Cthulia Williams' husband? Would that I'd had the chance to meet him. Poor, widowed Cthulia, who struggled nearly as hard as I do against the forces of conservative darkness in this land. I don't remember the details of the investigation. Didn't President Sphinxor find evidence of a terrorist plot and knock over a banana republic somewhere over that?

RLC: There was evidence and an invasion, yes. However, the Oracle seems to indicate that the case should be re-opened.

OW: OK, Mr. Cypher. You know that openness is the hallmark of my administration. Members of the press corps can filter out as they need to. Now, I'm sure you would not have come out here without facts at your fingertips: how did Williams die?

RLC: As the chief servants in the country are wont to do, Williams went to Martha's Vineyard, after Sphinxor was sworn in, to console his losing Vice President, Jay Pettifogger. There was a car accident, with only one survivor.

OW: Terrible. Did the survivor offer evidence?

RLC: Little.

OW: And?

RLC: Williams had cut his Secret Service detail down to the one car. There was an ambush at the Chappaquiddick ferry terminal. The guards were overwhelmed when attackers hit the car in a head-on, suicide attack.

OW: Tragic. Probably revenge over some foreign-policy thing we can't discuss right here, one expects.

RLC: Indeed. The evidence seemed to lead to Zambiniland, and President Sphinxor, in his bumbling way, made a cock-up of the whole situation.

OW: Sphinxor's cock-up; our arse. Once more, I must step in and wipe up after the Sphinxor. The Oracle doesn't lie. We must pursue this threat to the end, wherever the facts take us. Who knows? There could be another sleeper cell waiting to take me out. Chasing down Williams' killers could prove critical to preserving my own safety.

Members of the press, I think this news trumps whatever trivial questions you may have. Feel free to take up any further questions with the Press Secretary, Lars Gibbon. Thank you.

Press departs

Next: Scene I

Copyright 2009 by Christopher L. Smith

Announcement: OediPOTUS Wrecks

by Smitty

Update:
For those too distracted by people named Tonya or whoever back in the day, this work modernizes the Sophocles classic Oedipus Rex, still an excellent read after these ~2,500 years. Give that URL glance, or this series may be slightly bewildering.

As your foremost source of cultural diversion, this blog takes pride in announcing the Porch Manqué Production of:

Which sad little affair will play out in this blog over the course of the next week, with an obscene going up daily at high noon.

Scenes:
Prologue
Scene I
Scene II
Scene III
Finale

Characters:
(Alluded)
Jefferson Williams, OediPOTUS's father, 42nd POTUS
Lucius Sphinxor, 43rd POTUS
Kerry Kennedy, foster father of OediPOTUS
Olga von Kleindrubble Kennedy, mother of OediPOTUS
Pettifogger, Vice President under Jefferson Williams.
Folderol, Vice President under OediPOTUS

(Actual)
OediPOTUS Wrecks, 44th POTUS
Cthulia Williams, widow of Jefferson, Secretary of State to OediPOTUS
Ramen Lewis Cyphre, OediPOTUS's Chief of Staff
Hanah, palindromic source of mayhem
Matthew Olberchrist, fawning journalist
Sandy Hamburger, walking file cabinet
Dr. Esarhaddon Cyphre, brother of Ramen
Rosor, bored mastermind
Thomasina Helenson, queen of the press corps

Porch Manqué Productions has moved couch and chest freezer to make this the best possible collision of Greek tragedy and political farce. You can always tell how well you've accomplished the task by the intensity of the critics:

• Sophocles: My work! My opus desecrated! Has this Smitty neither taste nor judgment?
• Baldric: Next time Smitty thinks he has a cunning plan, assure him society'll sooner see Sullivan sane.
• Pontius Pilate: Note to self: wash hands, crucify, wash hands again.
• William Shakespeare: He hath sought Puckish, and begat puke-ish.
• Oscar Wilde: There is a fine line between delightfully clever and deserving cleaver. By the time it reaches Smitty, that line separates a morning star and a machete.
• "Half-Cocked" Jack: Never has me inability to read been such a blessing.
• Inspector Grimm: This hoity-toity, namby-pamby, colonoscopic colonial is stealing my lines!
• Marcellus Wallace: Dis bitch is Pulp Fiction meets some medieval s**t meets mah man Obama. 'Cept Pulp Fiction didn't suck.
• William Wallace: Speaking of medieval, the ending of Braveheart has a more pleasant face than this tripe.
• Mike Wallace: Speaking of tripe, at last we have something so fantastic as to make 60 Minutes comparatively sane and realistic.
• H. P. Lovecraft: Typically, consumption by Cthulhu diminishes literary output. Smitty writes on; fearless, mindless, soulless. Scientifically fascinating.
• Rob Roy MacGregor: O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! A thousand words, at random spoken, Would improve upon this jackass jokin'!
• John Wayne: You've got ta be kiddin' me, pilgrim. Why, I haven't seen a manure stream that bad since they drove a herd of diarrhetic cattle across the river feedin' Michael Moore's ranch, givin' us Fahrenheit 9/11.
• Spinal Tap: Smitty needs one.

OK, the John Wayne remark did hurt a little. But do come back and tell your friends. Stacy says that if we don't do a quarter-million hits on this, he's going to cut me back to half a pizza crust a day. Do not let this happen!

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith