by Smitty

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

Navigation:

• Announcement
• Prev: Prologue
• Next: Scene II

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[1] Wild Turkey
Copyright 2010, Christopher L. Smith

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

Navigation:

• Announcement
• Prev: Announcement
• Next: Scene I

by Smitty

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:

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 2010, Christopher L. Smith