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What if, one day, America does suffer a 'polite' coup? What if, one day, the end does justify the means and you and your children are not as welcome here anymore? And What if everyone else just puts their heads down and joins the herd.
Sometimes the devil wins and no one even cares.
(cue the video up above)
In my dream of an edgy cable series, that's how it all begins. The camera pans through rough, hardscrabble areas of D.C. as the theme plays...
Welcome to - Dark Heart White House ...
We focus on The Presidential Mansion.... Inside, a man and a large, German Shepherd dog occupy a sitting room. The man's trying to teach the dog a new thing. Her name is Blondi, but he wants her to answer to Brandi. He sits her down. He offers treats. If she responds to 'Brandi' she gets a small cube of ham. If she insists on 'Blondi' he turns his back...
An aide comes in - How's it going, sir?
The President - Not so good. Can you imagine if word gets out that I have a German Shepherd named Blondi? We're not ready for that. Not yet.. no, no, no, no, no. But that's not why you're here. Speak!
Aide - The banker... the financier, Isaacson, is on his way back from that meeting in Russia...
The President - And?
Aide - They've lost contact with the plane. It's missing... A regularly scheduled flight. Not private. Not air force. Two hundred and six passengers... the usual cross section, business travelers, tourists, a few families...
The President nods - Where'd it happen?
Aide - Somewhere over the Arctic Ocean.
The President - At night?
Aide - Yep.
The President - Who knows?
Aide - Just 'friends.' The C.E.O. of the airline is a friend. He's doing his best to keep things quiet... well, as quiet as possible.
The President - And the families of the victims? You KNOW how THEY get.
Aide - We'll offer to fly them to Seattle. They can wait it out there. Of course we'll feed them packaged information. I believe Mr. Larsen's already filled you in?
The President nods and sits back on the sofa. Blondi rests her head on his lap. He pets her and says - You tell me. Tell me everything. I want to make sure it jibes.
Aide - A bomb will go off... a big bomb. The hotel in Seattle will be destroyed. We'll blame the 'terrorists,' some Jewish Defense League type thing dissatisfied with our handling of the Oklahoma Pogroms. We already have the 'guilty parties' in custody. They'll be displayed to the media. Believe me. These are not sympathetic characters. They serve a purpose and they serve it well.
The President nods.
Aide - Of course we stage a few more 'spontaneous' pogroms. We'll make an attempt to control things. The operative word is 'attempt.'... Then we'll quietly 'liberate' the assets of some very rich and potentially troublesome members of 'that' community. We won't say a word. No one takes credit, but one day soon, the money will be gone. Any real estate they own will suddenly be mired in debt. You know how they always 'over estimate' what they have anyway. Believe me, they'll be selling their leftover diamonds, desperate to get out.
The President - And when some asshole investigative reporters start doing their crap? We haven't 'schooled' ALL of them yet.
Aide - Who's going to print it? We've 'schooled' enough. The masses, not little groups of bastards here and there, but the 'herd' if you will, wants to believe us. They need to believe us. What choice do they have? After all, they're 'on top.'.... People just want to live. And they'll bow and scrape and shake your hand, even when they know there's a knife in the other one, because they don't want to see the knife. And the fiction goes on. Who cares how rough it gets? Who cares who disappears? Just so the acid gets thrown in somebody else's face. Believe me, once they realize that the blissfully blind lead happy lives, blind is the thing to be.... The beauty part is we can milk this deal over and over again with all those God damned bastards out there.... Just like magic. Bam, bam, bam. NEXT!
The President hears, but doesn't respond. The dog whines ...
Aide - And one more thing, sir.
The President looks up. The aide continues - Mr. Lucas, from the kennels says if she doesn't respond, oh, he's gonna work with her too, but if she doesn't, they'll put her down and go to with the other bitch. That one already answers to 'Brandi.'
The President sighs and kisses the dog on her head.... The aide quietly exits...
The President stares out at the beautifully manicured grounds, as the daylight begins to fade....
He says 'Brandi' one more time...
But the dog doesn't respond....
<more next time>
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One more thing.. This is the first installment of a DARK HEART WHITE HOUSE story arc I might run with. It's just fiction. It has nothing to do with the recent election, but all the stories flying 'round made me think.
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