High School Football and Political Rallies

It’s late October in Ohio. Thursday’s temperature topped eighty degrees with abundant sunshine, but Friday started out gray and overcast, and temperatures fell all day, with the promise of a bit of rain by evening. That’s Ohio: if you don’t like the weather, stick around a few minutes, it’ll change. The political weather in Ohio is subject to similarly wide variations. It’s an important “swing state” if one wishes to become the chief occupant of the White House for the next four years. According to those who know such things, this year Ohio is the only key to a win. So tonight, here in solidly middle-class North Canton, both Mitt Romney and his running mate Paul Ryan are putting on a show in a last ditch effort to win the election by taking this state.

The mayor, apparently a hopeful up and coming aspirant in the party, was giddy with anticipation when he announced the event a few days ago. It would be held on the Hoover Viking’s baseball field on Friday night. The venue was available because the football team played their last game of the regular season against their archrival, Jackson Township’s Polar Bears, at Jackson (apparently even the possible next President couldn’t get the football field, because Hoover has playoff potential, and NO ONE gets to mess up the football field). Football’s close to a religion around these parts. The Pro Football Hall of Fame is just down Interstate-77 in Canton. The Massillon-McKinley game (played on Saturday afternoon, instead of Friday night) is a high school game with national recognition. But Romney-Ryan needs Ohio, so they risked playing against the area’s favorite pastime in order to secure votes.

The turnout was probably as good as they had hoped. Crowds began preparing at the start of the day. Disposable rain ponchos sold out by 10 AM at the dollar store on the corner of North Main Street, a few blocks west of the high school. As evening approached, the crowds began to stream in from all over. The manager of the dollar store is a farm kid from the sticks who describes himself as a “true independent,” but whose father was an old school union man. An atypical collection of Cadillac SUVs, Lexus and Mercedes-Benz automobiles begin to occupy his store’s parking lot, free of charge, for the duration of the event, squeezing out potential paying customers. He expresses regret that he didn’t dress his cashier in a “Big Bird” costume and charge $10 per car, with all proceeds going to save the Public Broadcasting System (Romney has already threatened to eliminate funding for PBS). Republicans may speak with disgust at those Americans seeking entitlements, but apparently no one feels more entitled to do as they please, such as steal free parking from a local retail outlet and make it impossible for actual customers to park, than an upwardly-mobile Republican on a mission to see their candidate. So much for a pro-business stance: yeah, we’re pro-business, unless your business is in the way of our goal for the moment.    

Inside the dollar store, the assistant manager adds his regret, wishing that a coin operated box would have been installed on the restroom doors, another very popular destination for the pre-rally crowd with their bladders full of Starbucks. He added that those proceeds could have been donated to Planned Parenthood, another planned funding victim for the candidate down the street. Down the street, a budding entrepreneur was hawking Romney-Ryan T-shirts, buttons and stickers, obtained free from campaign headquarters, for a hefty mark-up. Through the wonders of modern technology, he was able to accept payment at his little cart on the street in the form of credit or debit cards. I wonder how far such technology would have progressed if our nation hadn’t funded the space program back in the 1960’s? So much of the technological wonders that we take for granted today are a direct result of that noble ambition spearheaded by President Kennedy over fifty years ago. But hey, who needs big government now, right?

At the rally, the newspaper reported, The Oak Ridge Boys, with their bizarrely long, gray beards waving in the brisk wind, performed the National Anthem. One of our County Commissioners, a former high school cheerleader-turned-politician introduced a nun that led the opening prayer for the event of mainly Protestant onlookers. Other local politicians took their turn at the podium, building up excitement for the night’s main guests, who had yet to arrive. Back at the dollar store at the corner, the State Trooper who had been dozing in his SUV in the parking lot for hours suddenly stirred and performed the one duty expected of him. He blocked traffic at the intersection for the motorcade speeding on its way from the airport to the baseball field. Then he vanished into the night, freeing up one precious parking space at the store for anyone unimportant enough to wish to shop at a store catering to lower-income types. Inside the store, the manager watched the endless procession of flashing lights speed by and jokingly whispered to his assistant that a well-placed RPG could do a lot of good for the country right now. The independent had momentarily morphed into a would-be anarchist, but only for a moment, and only in his dreams.

Less than an hour later, fireworks filled the sky, announcing the end of the festivities and sending the crowd home filled with hope for a bright future under the leadership of the multimillionaire Leveraged-Buyout-King who would-be President. As the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of explosions from the pyrotechnic light show rattled the glass at the dollar store, the manager and his assistant watched the procession returning to their illegally abandoned cars in the parking lot of their empty store. None of them came inside to make a purchase, or offer an apology for their rude decision to take what wasn’t theirs. Outside, the store’s employees were saying farewell to one of the night’s last customers, a young man who had spent all day setting-up the event. He was now heading back to clean up the mess, fortified by a candy bar and an energy drink, and facing a sixteen-hour workday, for minimum wage. The assistant manager called out to him: “Say hello to Thurston for me!” The young man stared back blankly. “You know, Thurston Howell III,” he added, hopeful that the youngster would make the connection between the clueless fictional millionaire from TV’s Gilligan’s Island and the candidate who had just spoke. The reference may have been lost on the sugar-amped event worker, but an older woman, walking by and carrying a “Romney-Ryan” sign, was unable to repress her smirk. Good thing she has a sense of humor, because she’ll need it if her candidate gets elected: things don’t look too hopeful for her gender under Romney. Perhaps she’ll be lucky and end up in one of Mitt’s “Binders Full of Women”.

North Canton, Ohio, may seem a strange choice for a Republican rally. Right in the center of the city’s square sits the former Hoover Company, a pioneer in the production of vacuum sweepers. They used to make great products: the area is full of sweepers forty, and even fifty years old, that still work fine. There’s one in the closet at my house. The city lost 2,400 jobs when the plant closed and its jobs were sent to Mexico and China (the same sort of thing that Bain Capital has been doing to American jobs for years). But the city has always been on the conservative side. McCain won North Canton in the last election, although the current President carried the county and the state. The city has one of the two best public school systems in the county, with Jackson Township (that Friday night’s football opponent) having the other one. That night at the rally, the candidate spoke about his plan for a voucher system that would allow people the freedom to send their kids to any charter school they wanted. However, the citizens watching had moved to this city so that their kids could attend one of the best public schools in the area. Go figure.

In his speech, the candidate agreed that the President had inherited a poor economic situation when he took office (yes, only the worst one since the Great Depression). He didn’t mention that it was caused by Republican tax cuts for the wealthy and deregulation of financial markets, which he has previously promised to do again (worked so well the first time). Romney went on to say that President Obama’s policies were not working to improve our financial condition. However, two days earlier in the local paper’s Business Section, headlines reported that the area’s jobless rate continued to decrease (6.5% currently in our county vs. 8.6% a year ago), as well as a headline that said: “US soon may become the world’s top oil producer.” In addition, the paper reported that a new retail operation was planned for a rural area in the county, and a new extended stay motel (the kind favored by visiting business people) was planned for the county’s main commercial district. If I’m not mistaken, all of those things point to positive growth in the economy. Seems like something must be going right, doesn’t it?

The would-be leaders of the free world were whooshed out of town as fast as they could be after the rally, as their now freezing supporters strolled back to wherever they had abandoned their expensive automobiles. If the staff at the dollar store had been a little less fearful about an adverse reaction from the corporate office, they would have blessed each bumper on the illegally parked cars in their lot with an “Obama-Biden” bumper sticker. But that would have been nasty, and they’re really much nicer guys than that. And even though they work at rather menial positions at a dollar store catering to lower income customers, they may have a better idea of what’s good for the country that they love as anyone attending the rally that night.

Oh, by the way, a little later that night the North Canton Hoover High Vikings defeated the Jackson Polar Bears by a score of 42 to 7, giving them a berth in the high school football playoffs. It’s important to remember things that really matter to a community. I hope that when the residents of my hometown are driving to the polls on Election Day, they will drive past the abandoned factory in the Town Square and think of the good jobs that were sent to foreign countries by LBO specialists like the guy running for president. And I hope they do remember what’s best for them and their country.  

    Budding entrepreneur at Romney-Ryan campaign event, hawking merchandise from his cart. Handheld technology allows him to accept credit and debit cards.

Oak Ridge Boys perform national anthem at North Canton Rally

Osso Buco and the Downside of Risk

I was at the supermarket today and had already put some diced prosciutto in my cart for the Spaghetti Carbonara that I was going to make for tonight’s dinner, when I saw the veal shanks in the meat case. I thought about buying them in order to make Osso Buco, but passed them by, probably because the recipe calls for several items that I wasn’t sure that I had at home, and it takes a long time to make it properly. If you’re unfamiliar with the dish, and find yourself in a good Italian restaurant that offers it, give it a try. Basically, it’s slow-cooked crosscut veal shanks in a wine sauce. Tasty stuff.

I can’t think of Osso Buco without remembering the first time I was ever made aware the dish’s existence. I was 16 or 17 at the time, and my brother was going to school at West Palm Beach Junior College (at least he was enrolled there, no strong evidence exists of any significant attendance on his part) in Florida. Mom, Dad and I flew down around Thanksgiving to visit him, and the first night we were there, we went across the bridge for dinner at a nice Italian restaurant in Palm Beach, where the really rich people live.

Even at my young age, I was not a stranger to fine restaurants. We dined regularly at the Mergus in Canton, which had a menu more than a dozen pages long, offering well-prepared specialties from various cultures, and my parents were kind enough to take me along to other great restaurants wherever we visited. The place we found ourselves at in Palm Beach was only mildly intimidating, with tuxedo-clad waiters (no waitresses) and a suitably dark and refined atmosphere. The menu had mainly recognizable entrees, and we sipped our cocktails (losing one’s hair at a tender age does have certain advantages, along with having liberal parents) and scanned the offerings, each of us making our choice in silence, without discussion.

The waiter came to take our orders in his very professional manner. Mom went first (we later learned that her menu didn’t have prices on it, since she was the lady and thus unconcerned with such trivial matters), then Gary and I, and finally Dad gave his order. “I’ll have the Osso Buco,” he said with the utmost confidence.

“Ah,” the waiter smiled his approval with a knowing nod of his head, then added, “the gentleman knows what he wants.”

We handed back our menus and waited until the waiter had returned to the kitchen before one of us asked: “What’s Osso Buco?”

“I have no idea,” Dad confessed. We all got a good laugh out of that, especially considering the waiter’s comment.

But it didn’t really matter to him. He reasoned that a dish listed as a “specialty of the house” in a really good restaurant would probably taste somewhere between good and exceptional, and he was right. His portion was adequate enough that he allowed us all a taste. I’ve ordered it in a few other restaurants, and made the dish at home, and I’m pretty sure that the first time I tasted it was the best I’ve ever had.

You see, there are times when it makes good sense to take a risk and try something new. What is there to lose? If Dad found his entrée lacking, he could always order a spectacular dessert (we had already seen the dessert cart circulating the restaurant and it was packed with goodies). He might be out the cost of his meal, but it was only a relatively small price to pay for an experiment that had a really good upside potential.

There are other choices we make in life that have more far-reaching consequences, and far worse negative outcomes. I’m reminded of the guy I knew who voted against every single incumbent in office, then found out that he had voted against his own interests in several cases. We face major choices in the upcoming election as well.

The incumbent candidate for President seems to have a less than stellar record with regard to our nation’s economy, until you consider the situation he faced when he took office. Having faced a financial abyss brought on by the previous administration’s lax oversight combined with a love of deregulation and tax cuts for the wealthy, our current President has done the best possible job that he could, under the circumstances that he operated under. Our largest bank, once on the verge of bankruptcy and requiring government assistance to stay solvent, has declared a record a profit. It cited an improving housing market as a major contributing factor. Manufacturing is improving, and unemployment is gradually trending downward.

The challenger in the race for President says that his opponent hasn’t done enough, and promises more action. He has promised that cutting taxes for the truly wealthy of our country will free-up capital that will be used to create more jobs. He doesn’t add that more action will only be possible with cooperation from our legislature, which currently has a terrible record for both action and cooperation.

What is the right solution? Who gets the most precious thing we have to offer in this situation: our vote? I read recently that history is circular, and often repeats itself. Having seen this phenomenon, I tend to agree. History tells us that cutting taxes for the wealthy usually results in a large amount of money seeking speculative investments, not in job creation. If tax cuts did work as promised, why did we just go through the most adverse economic period since the Great Depression? The wealthy got their tax cuts, but we got the Housing Bubble and a stock market crash.

The last time we had a two-term Democrat for President, we got a budget surplus, a healthy economy and more peacetime jobs created in the private sector than at any time in our nation’s history. The last time we had a two-term Republican we got the Housing Bubble and the Financial Meltdown. The time before that, a two-term Republican left us with a devastated Savings and Loan industry, a ballooning deficit and a stock market crash.

Former Governor Romney has made lots of promises, but they are built on a foundation of speculation and half-truths (not to mention a few outright falsehoods). True, he seems so reasonable and so presidential. He better, he has billions of dollars of the best media money can buy behind him. The one thing he lacks is a strong foundation in historical perspective. Our past experience points to the flaw in his argument, but are enough people paying attention to reality? Let’s hope so.

So what do you plan to do with your vote? Should you throw caution to the wind and try something new? When Dad did that at the restaurant, he knew that if he left hungry there was a McDonald's that he could stop at on the way back to his hotel. If you try that at the polls this election, you may not even be able to afford to stop at McDonald's in the near future. Choose wisely.

Osso Buco (veal shanks)

   

Damned Bureaucrats

It’s a familiar scene, a staple for sitcoms, and an annual event on “The Simpsons”: a visit to the Department of Motor Vehicles. Busy people stymied in their effort for a renewed driver’s license by dimwitted, agonizingly slow bureaucrats.  A woman watches as an elderly gentleman, responding to the call of his number, slowly shuffles up to the desk. My god, she thinks, they’re not going to renew that old fossil’s license, are they? Lord help him if he gets in the way of my gargantuan SUV when I’m late for brunch at TGI Friday’s, and the special on cheap mimosas ends at noon. I’ll run the old bastard off the road and do society a favor. Oh wait. Looks like he failed the eye test. Good, now send him on his way and call my number. I’ve got more important things to do. Hurry up you damn bureaucrat! The word “bureaucrat” has taken on a bad meaning in our vocabulary, immediately associated with a needlessly ponderous government functionary. A new acquaintance in a bar may tell you that she “works for the government”, but will never say, “I’m a bureaucrat.”

Ronald Reagan was our 40th President and was known as “The Great Communicator”. He is remembered for telling us that the most dangerous words in the English language are: “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” He also said: “Government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem” as well as: “A government bureau is the nearest thing to eternal life we'll ever see on this earth.” Obviously, he wasn’t a big fan of government, nor bureaucracy. Reagan is remembered fondly by Republicans, primarily for lowering the top rates for income tax, not once, but twice. The first time he lowered the top tax rate, it was considered too high, and the economy improved. The second time he did it, economists warned him that he shouldn’t do it. After he went ahead with it anyway, the stock market crash combined with the Savings and Loan Scandal (caused by an easing of government oversight as well as an excess of newly freed-up investment money in search of a good bet) wiped out the savings of many hard-working Americans.

The truth is that no one is a fan of “big government”, myself included. As we sit waiting at the DMV, we think: if only the government didn’t interfere so much in our lives. Consider the woman in the example above leaving the DMV with her new license (fuming over the poor likeness in the photograph, no doubt). She climbs into her SUV, and likely forgets that the fees she just paid help to fund the nicely paved roads that speed her to her destination. She doesn’t associate that the traffic lights and police officers that keep her trip safe do so by means of a functional government bureaucracy. Sadly, like many of us, she has a short memory. The truth is that there are many aspects of peaceful existence on this planet that requires more than the effort of a single person, or even a group of like-mined individuals. An even bigger truth is that the best way to run a government is through bureaucratic controls.

It would be a mistake to allow free market economics control such functions. Suppose a wealthy man’s limousine ran a red light and crashed into our harried SUV driver? Would it be OK if he could offer a large payment to the arresting officer to forget the whole thing, even though his driver was at fault? No, that wouldn’t be fair. We need the government to equalize the situation in order to protect what is right. We hear a lot of talk these days about the need to privatize Social Security and Medicare. What worries me most is that we would surrender any type of control in these situations to a free market that is populated by human beings. Human beings are by human nature predisposed to their own self-interest. That means we are greedy by nature, and don’t always do what is right for everyone unless something compels us to do right. Deregulation may be more efficient, but in the long run it may not be the most effective course of action.

Today’s paper had several news stories that caught my eye, and all had a common theme. The first story concerned a report published by the Government Accountability Office. In case you forgot (or perhaps are just so busy that you don’t care), the GAO is an independent, nonpartisan agency that works for Congress. The report in question concerned the emerging technology of getting gas and oil from the process of hydraulic fracturing, more commonly known as fracking. Environmentalists are concerned that fracking will have adverse consequences on our groundwater, which is a major source of our drinking water. The report stated that the part of the drilling process called fracking has not been identified as a cause of groundwater contamination. No doubt proponents of fracking will seize on this portion of the report as proof of the safety of the process.

However, the report went on to say that risks to the water supply have been found to exist from migration of underground gases and chemicals. In one case a faulty seal on a gas well allowed gas to build up and migrate into the local aquifer, contaminating wells used for drinking water. Contaminated wastewater from the drilling process can also leak into aquifers from faulty well casings and other studies have shown air quality problems around gas wells. The industry points out that the practice is safe when it is done properly. Government officials echo this claim, and point to recently strengthened regulations to assure us that fracking will be done safely. Another report indicated that it was a challenge for state regulators to hire and retain the staff needed to police the newly strengthened regulations. In other words, they can’t find enough well trained bureaucrats, and when they do, private industry will likely pay them more money to come work for them.

A second news story focused on a recent deadly outbreak of meningitis that has been linked to contaminated pain injections from compounding pharmacies. Pharmaceutical compounding (done in compounding pharmacies) is the creation of a particular pharmaceutical product to fit the unique needs of a patient. Since the recent outbreak, Congress is seeking more authority over the industry, citing a lack of specific laws and uncertainty over how much power the FDA has to regulate compounding pharmacies. Experts see the current state of inactivity and Congressional gridlock as preventing any significant action in this regard anytime soon. Perhaps not enough people have died yet for Congress to actually act, or maybe they think deregulation will work best in this case, since bureaucrats might just muck things up worse.

So what is a bureaucrat? German sociologist Max Weber defined a bureaucratic official as the following: “He is personally free and appointed to his position on the basis of conduct. He exercises the authority delegated to him in accordance with impersonal rules, and his loyalty is enlisted on behalf of the faithful execution of his official duties. His appointment and job placement are dependent upon his technical qualifications. His administrative work is a full-time occupation. His work is rewarded by a regular salary and prospects of advancement in a lifetime career. He must exercise his judgment and his skills, but his duty is to place these at the service of a higher authority. Ultimately he is responsible only for the impartial execution of assigned tasks and must sacrifice his personal judgment if it runs counter to his official duties. Bureaucratic control is the use of rules, regulations, and formal authority to guide performance. It includes such things as budgets, statistical reports, and performance appraisals to regulate behavior and results.”

Are you still awake? I know, even the definition tends to bore you to death. But do you think that we need to regulate certain aspects of our lives for our own personal safety and well being? If so, then we need bureaucrats. Unfortunately, we also need to reward them amply. The next time you see a story about some former government retiree making a decent pension with great benefits, remember that he or she was once a thankless bureaucrat, working to ensure your safety or even protecting your life.

The last story that caught my eye this morning doesn’t directly deal with bureaucracy, but is concerned with regulation. The Republican candidate for President of the United States has called for a loosening of federal regulations relating to banks. This is the sort of deregulation that led to the Financial Meltdown of 2008, when many of our major banks were on the verge of becoming insolvent, and had to be rescued. These banks included JP Morgan Chase Bank, the nation’s largest bank, which received $94.7 billion in federal bailout money, which has since been repaid. The article reported a record profit for JP Morgan of $5.3 billion, in excess of what had been forecast for the third quarter of 2012. The results were helped by a surge in mortgage lending, with the CEO commenting that the housing market “has turned a corner” and is improving.

This little blurb points out some very fundamental points relative to the upcoming election. The first is the claim of the opposition party that our economy is unsound. Their policies of deregulation almost caused the collapse of our entire financial sector. Now they’ve said that they’d like to have another go at it. It seems to me that if our housing markets are improving and our banks are earning record profits, maybe the economy isn’t so bad after all. The second point is that we had to have big government in order to bail out this bank. If it hadn’t done so, the results would have been difficult to comprehend. Massive unemployment, unprecedented lost savings, and a worldwide depression of enormous proportions would have been likely. Just because the economy suffered, and times have been tough on us all, don’t make the mistake in thinking that it couldn’t have been worse. If we allow for less regulation, it’s likely that it will get worse again.

So next time you’re at the DMV, remember to smile and thank the person behind the counter for their service. You’ll show a better and more informed view of their function as bureaucrats in keeping our lives in order, and your driver’s license photo might look better, too.

“Bureaucratic administration means fundamentally domination through knowledge.”

— Max Weber

Willard's Second Week (a short story)

President Willard swiveled in his new chair in the Oval Office, obviously enjoying the well-lubricated mechanism of the seat of power. The telephone on his desk buzzed. He stared at it quizzically for a moment, sat the cup in his hand down on the desk and then shouted in the general direction of the phone, “Yes?”

“The Vice-President to see you, sir,” the female voice on the intercom announced.

“Send him in,” the President replied.

“Paul, come in. Sit down. Beautiful day, isn't it?”

“Very nice, sir. Much warmer than Wisconsin this time of year. Had to get past a pretty colorful group of protesters at the White House gates though.”

“Colorful? Were they minority groups?”

“No, sir,” the VP chuckled. “It was Big Bird and some of the other Muppets from Sesame Street.”

“Oh, you mean because I cut funding to PBS? I told Lehrer that I was going to do that. Shouldn't have been a big surprise. Besides, PBS actually educates people, and we can’t afford too much of that, can we Paul?”

“No sir, we don’t really want a well-informed electorate. Could spell the doom of our party. So anyway, how was your weekend, sir?”

“Just splendid. The boys are still in town, and we all went to church together. The bishop told us that we doubled the size of his normal choir. How about you Paul? Did you manage to find a nice service for your family?”

“I didn't go to church sir.”

“Really?” the President looked surprised. “Aren't you a Catholic?”

“Only during the election season sir. I’m really a follower of ‘Objectivism’. We don’t have regular meetings.”

“Objectivism? What’s that?”

“It’s a philosophy developed by Ayn Rand. It’s based on ‘rational selfishness’.”

“And they say Mormonism is a cult,” Willard muttered under his breath. “You know, I've been thinking about finding jobs in the government for my boys. Think we could do that? I’m a firm believer in public service, you know.”

“All of your boys, sir? We might have to expand the government to do that,” Paul chuckled nervously.

“Well that shouldn't be a problem, should it? All of the Presidents do it, don’t they?”

“Well…you did campaign on the concept of reducing the size of government, sir.”

“Oh fiddlesticks!” Willard chortled. “Every President breaks campaign promises. The people expect it.”

“If you say so sir…”

“Can I get you a cup of this stuff?” he asked his visitor, holding up his own cup. “It’s really amazing. I feel energized when I drink it. They tell me the White House would cease to function entirely if we didn't serve gallons of it every day.”

“Yes sir, it’s called coffee,” Paul replied. “It’s quite popular.”

“Never had the stuff before. Help yourself,” Willard gestured to the sterling silver coffee service on the table in front of his desk. The Vice-President poured himself a cup, and then topped-off his boss’s cup as well. “Have you seen my desk? They tell me it used to be a boat at one time.”

“Yes sir, it’s called ‘The Resolute Desk’. President Kennedy made it very popular when they took photos of his children playing under it.”

“Kennedy, huh?” Willard scoffed. “Wasn't he an adulterer and a Democrat?”

“I believe that is true sir.”

“I was never unfaithful to Ann, you know.”

“Can’t imagine you ever had the time sir.”

“Maybe I’ll get rid of this desk. I can do that can’t I?”

The Vice-President nodded in agreement. “I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to redecorate anyway you want, sir.”

“Maybe I’ll get something sleek and modern. I sure don’t need all these drawers. Can’t imagine I’ll need to store much of anything. Except for this,” he added, holding up the ‘veto’ stamp. “I’m going to keep this close at hand, just in case those pesky legislators manage to pass something that wasn't approved.” Willard looked mysteriously skyward, as if at some unseen power.

“Well, that really hasn't been a problem so far, sir.” Paul smiled. “They've done everything we've asked for so far. Repealed Obamacare, tax cuts for the super-rich, a hike in taxes for the middle class, a huge increase in defense spending. We've got everything in place to privatize Medicare and Social Security. It’s been quite a successful honeymoon period for you sir. Now we’re ready to put the rest of your programs into place.”

The President stared back blankly at his visitor. “What programs are those, Paul?”

“You know, sir. Like Romneycare, your own version of a national healthcare system.”

The President looked around and lowered his voice, as if his every word and action were monitored by an unseen force. “That was never…approved, Paul. I just said that to get elected.” He then spoke up, smiling. “I said lots of things during the campaign that I didn't really mean. Don’t even remember most of them.” The Vice-President’s eyes widened in disbelief. The President’s intercom buzzed again. “Yes?” he shouted back at it.

“The Secretary of Defense and the National Security Advisor are here to see you, sir.”

“Send them in.” Two conservatively dressed gentlemen entered the Oval Office, and were offered coffee by the Vice-President. Both declined.

“I’m afraid we’re facing some fallout over the Iran situation, sir,” SecDef began.

“Fallout? What do you mean?” the President replied.

“Well, sir,” SecDef continued, “most of the world is a bit upset about us using nuclear weapons against Iran, without warning and all.”

“We didn't nuke Iran,” Willard protested. “That was the Israelis.”

“But we used our planes, sir,” the NSA added, “and our bombs.”

Willard’s eyes sneakily swept the room before returning his gaze to his new visitors. He then whispered: “But they were stealth bombers.”

“Yes sir,” SecDef rolled his eyes. “But apparently an Iranian spy saw them land in Tel Aviv before the mission.”

“Spies?” the President seemed perplexed.

“Yes sir,” his NSA added, then explained, “seems the Middle East is full of them. Fairly ubiquitous in fact.”

“Then there’s also the matter of the actual fallout sir. It seems that a vast cloud of radioactive material is now sweeping across India and heading directly toward China. I've heard that they’re both pretty pissed-off at us right now,” SecDef added.

“India and China?” the President mused. “What do they matter to us?”

The Defense Secretary and National Security Advisor exchanged a worried glance, and then the NSA spoke up. “Their combined population is about 2.6 billion people sir. That’s almost one-third of the world’s population.”

“Oh,” the President answered, still unsure of the consequences. Just then his intercom buzzed again. “Yes?” he shouted toward the device.

“The Secretary of the Treasury is here to see you, sir.”

“Send him in,” the President replied wearily.

“Sir, I’m afraid we've got big troubles,” SecTreas began without the usual pleasantries. “The capital markets are collapsing. The Dow lost half of its value already, including all of last week’s big increase. I've already ordered all of the exchanges closed until further notice. I’m afraid the bubble burst a bit prematurely. Oh, and I just heard that China is demanding that we repay all of our debt to them immediately.”

“Oh no,” Willard moaned, “that will wipe us out.”

“Not really sir,” SecTreas explained. “The Chinese hold only about 8% of our total debt. That’s really the least of our problems right now. It will increase our borrowing costs a bit, if we can still borrow from anyone, that is. We may actually have to default on our debt obligations. Seems most of the rest of the world doesn't want to do business with us right now.”

“Eight percent? So that was true then. I thought the Democrats just made that up. You know, like most of the figures I used during the campaign.” The President’s intercom buzzed again. “Yes, what is it?” he screamed at the device.

“Your personal financial advisor is here to see you sir.” The woman’s voice responded wearily.

“By all means, send him right in,” Willard beamed.

“Sir,” the Vice-President interrupted. “Do you really think that’s wise? We seem to be dealing with important matters of national security right now. Besides, I thought all of your personal wealth was held by blind trusts.”

“Well yes, Paul, they are held in blind trust,” the President explained. “But I’m not looking at my money, am I? Just discussing it. The trusts are blind, not deaf and dumb.” Willard acknowledged the bespectacled newcomer to the room, and offered him a cup of coffee, which he declined. “What have you got for me, Smithers?”

The accountant glanced around the room, recognizing the powerful men standing next to him, and gulped before beginning. “Well sir…um…we’re in a bit of a fix right now it seems…um…the banks sir…the off-shore banks…in the Caymans, and Ireland? Well…it seems they've nationalized the holdings of all American investors.”

“What?” Willard exploded, “even mine?”

“Especially yours, sir. Seems they’re blaming you for the new worldwide financial collapse.”

“Worldwide financial collapse? When the hell did that start?”

The accountant checked his watch before replying. “About thirty minutes ago, sir.”

“What about Switzerland? Certainly the Swiss didn't nationalize my accounts. They do business with everyone.”

“That’s right sir. Those funds are safe. Your Swiss bankers noticed a small uptick in the U.S. Treasury Bond futures market last night and put all of your money in good old, safe T-Bills.” The accounted smiled for a moment, until he observed the stricken look on the President’s now ashen face.

“But we’re about to default on all of our debt obligations you idiot! I’ll be completely broke!”

“Oh…that is bad news. Perhaps you’ll excuse me for a moment, sir? I've got some other calls to make. I need to switch some of my really rich clients into gold futures.”

As the accountant beat a hasty retreat through the door of the Oval Office, with his cell phone at his ear, the President’s intercom announced the arrival of the Secretary of State, who entered the office before waiting for the boss’s OK.

“Ah, I’m glad I've found you all here,” SecState observed. “Paul, the helicopter’s outside ready to take you to your secure location in West Virginia. Everyone else come with me, we've got to get to the underground bunker right now. Seems the missiles are in the air and we’re under attack.”

“Do you have any orders for us, sir?” SecDef asked.

Willard appeared shell-shocked, blinked twice, then responded: “I don’t know. Just do whatever it is you normally do.” In the hall, as he headed for the elevator surrounded by his Secret Service detail, he heard the  alarms going off. Then he realized that they sounded exactly like his alarm clock.

Willard opened his eyes, and feeling the 1000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheet beneath him, rolled over to face his wife.

"Good morning, dear," her smile was bittersweet. "Did you sleep well dear? You seemed to be moaning right before your alarm went off. Are you alright?"

"Fine dear, just fine...the election...I didn't...?" he remained a bit groggy, having gone to bed much later than he was accustomed.

"No dear...Don't you remember?"

"Yes...of course. Just a bad dream is all...Ann, we're still rich aren't we?"

"Yes dear, as far as I know. We have more this morning than we did last night. Just like every morning."

"Good."

Note to readers: Willard's Second Week is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity of the characters to persons alive or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental, and not intended.