How the Draft Deals with NSA Leaks or That’s TMI

babydragonYou are President Jones. You are here in the Jungle Room (codename for the Oval Office, thanks again President Bill) with the Wizard of Oz (codename for your new Director of National Intelligence) who you have called in to speak with you. You are here because you have been redrafted by the people for another term. This is why you have dedicated this term to getting even with them.

As you watched Brick House (codename for your secretary) pour you and Oz a couple of drinks, you realize that there are only ever two reasons you call someone to speak with you: either to yell at them or to solve a problem caused by someone you want to yell at. This meeting is one of the former. Continue reading

How the Draft Deals with Scandal or Operation Shell Game

When you are President, there is nothing worse than being wakened at 4 AM. Oh wait, yes there is. Being wakened at 4 AM by Spin Cycle, the code word for the White House Communications Director. You roll over in the bed and pick up the phone that’s making the annoying sound that woke you up. “Spin, if you have come to spread some cheer to me, I’m going to have Agent Smith shoot you.”

He bursts into your bedroom. “Oh there’s no cheer today, sir. And Agent Smith’s not here which oddly is the reason I came to talk to you.”

As you sit up and pull on your warmups, you recall groggily that Agent Smith and his team has been sent ahead to “secure” your hotel in Grindo Zero, codeword for Cartagena. Once again you’ve been tasked to attend a “summit” meeting, which is an apt description of all of these. They all are a lot like mountain climbing. It’s real hard, you have to be insane to do it even if you use all the safety equipment and it accomplishes absolutely nothing.

About that, how’s the speech coming?”

Oh,” he says all too chipperly, “it’s coming along nicely, I’ll have the first draft in a couple days.” Continue reading

How the Draft Allows the President to Give 110% to the ninety-nine percenters or Operation Occupulco Spring

You are President Jones. You are in the Amityville Horror, which is the codeword for the White House. You are here because you have given up on trying to escape. It might be Stockholm Syndrome. At least the place has good whiskey, food and TV.

As the President, you are expected to keep the wheels of industry turning by keeping them greased. And it doesn’t hurt if a little grease rubs off into your wallet either. So today, you’re going to be receiving a couple visitors who are the driving force behind those cogs and sprockets. It seems that they have an urgent problem and believe that you’re the guy to solve it. You do not have to be very bright to be a banker you guess.

Right on time, the intercom chimes and Brick House says, “Sir, your one o’clock is ready, Mr. Blank…”

“Brick?…” She really hates the codewords.

“Thurston Howell the Third and J.R. Ewing are here to see you, sir.”

It amazes you how she can enunciate so well without ever unclenching her teeth. “Please, send them in.”

The door opens and a couple of guys enter. They seem like ordinary rich people, but you know, in fact, that they are the people who actually run the Earth. Yes, kids, there are jobs even worse than being President. You usher them to the couch while Brick House gets them a couple of drinks. Continue reading

How the Draft Deals With Natural Disasters or At Least It Wasn’t Godzilla

You are President Jones. And as a president, when a natural disaster strikes you’re expected to do something about it. Generally that means fly over to where ever it happened and look at it while the news people film you looking at it. Of course that’s about as useful as your buddy looking at the new six inch long gash in your forehead and going, “Ow, that looks bad.”

Thus Operation Hot Tub was born and so there you are, sitting in your cabin in the Mile High Club, sipping Jack Daniels. Your Japanese language coach, code named Pai Mei, (Hell that actually might be his real name, you just don’t know) is schooling you on the finer points of Japanese night life. He is particularly annoyed that you are fixated on the idea of spending some quality time with a geisha. He insists you won’t and you insist on at least making an effort.

“Anata wa sushi no yona aji nodarou ka.” You say to him. Continue reading

How the Draft Takes Politics Out of the Equation or Your Skeleton’s Coming Out Party

You are President Jones, and thanks to your innate problem solving skills your buddies at Nielsen tell you your popularity is just north of Number One. Number One of course is the code word you issued for George Washington just to annoy the Creeps, which is the code word for the NSA. Yep you’ve tackled world peace, solved the border problem, boosted taxes (well briefly anyway) and gone a long way toward cleaning up the oil spill in the gulf.

Now I know you Republicans out there are wondering, how exactly does letting the Mexicans come on in count as solving that problem. Now that’s easy, three days after you opened the gate, Santa Anna (code word for President Calderon) sent the Federales (whose real name is so cool they don’t really need a code word) to the border and shut it. And by shut it I mean they built a second fence… er well… lets just say the code word is The Great Wall Of Mexico. And it didn’t cost the Plebs (code word for you, dear reader) a dime.

In light of the massive hard work that you’ve done (and if you don’t think it’s hard work, see how you feel when your hangover begins at the sound of shaped charge taking your jail cell door out…) you’ve decided to take a light day. And so, you are presently sitting quietly, pleasantly taking tea with The Wicked Witch of the West. We’ll get to that code word shortly. Continue reading

How the Draft Solves the Big Problems or Remember the Azamo.

Drafting POTUSDrafting POTUS

You are President Jones. It’s been six weeks since Agent Smith showed up at your door to inform you that you have been drafted. So basically, basic training is over now. And you realize that being in the military isn’t so bad. You can still go pretty much anywhere you used to go as long as you take Agent Smith and his clone army with you. Better, you can go places you couldn’t go, like Rome for Operation Gladiator. And, the Men in Black (code word for the Secret Service) come in handy in a bar fight. Even after the local police show up.

You are still part of the military however and that comes with all the drawbacks you can imagine. People, usually pissed off people, constantly want to come talk to you. Particularly the Vampires (code word for the Treasury Department) and the Werewolves (code word for Congress). Then there are the people who want to send you large volumes of boring paper to read, despite the fact that you have warned them about such things. And the worst part are the press conferences, one of which is scheduled for you in a couple of hours.

Ordinarily you blow these off. It’s always full of reporters who want to hear you make a speech about nothing and then ask a bunch of questions about less than nothing. However, since Vampire Bill (code name for the Secretary of the Treasury) wants to have an unpleasant chat with you about the Ferrari donated to some sheriff’s department, the very department that was neutralized by the Men in Black, you’ve chosen the lesser of two evils. Continue reading

How the Draft Affects Foreign Policy or Operation Gladiator

You are President Jones.  You are in the Oval Office.  You are there because the door is locked and the windows are pretty tough.  So you are doing what presidents do, talking on the phone.  If you don’t believe me, check out any photo op pictures of any president.  They are always on the phone.

“AWESOME!  You da man, Berli!…  Yeah, your debt is paid in full dude…  Yeah, see you tonight man!”

You press a button to get the line to the Shrew, and she answers, “Yes Sir?”

“Tell Captain Tailhook to get the Mile High Club ready, Operation Road Trip is a go.  Then get me the Drinking Buddies and tell them we are wheels up for Operation Gladiator in two hours.  Remind them not to forget the Friendly Scotsman, Andrew Jackson and the Redneck.”  You’re really getting the hang of the code word.

For you non-presidents, I’ll translate.  What you just said was tell the commander of Air Force One to get the plane ready to go to Rome.  And tell the Joint Chiefs that Operation Gladiator is about to commence so don’t forget the Scotch, Jack Daniels and the beer.  We’ll get to Operation Gladiator in a minute. Continue reading

How to Pick a President

I just had a discussion recently with a Fox-breathing republican friend of mine where I pointed out that while I did drink the O koolaid, I’ve been clean and sober for about a year now. There probably should be a 12 step group for this, but I think most of the 12 steppers probably drank the W koolaid.

Now that I’m sober, I realize I haven’t liked any of our presidents much since Reagan. So I started thinking about how we could pick a good one, since this whole voting thing isn’t working out so well.

Now I don’t want to ditch voting entirely, since that seems to lead to things like the Taliban and Kim Jung Il. I kinda like the Queen of England, but after all that shooting a couple centuries back, we really can’t ask her I guess. I thought about this for a long time then it hit me:

Bring back the draft. Continue reading