Bush’s recession solution: 'Well, now, looky here, sell Taiwan arms ...'

I can just picture this scenario in the Oval Office.

“Whaddave we got here?” (says the president in his best Al Pacino tough-cop voice at his 3 024th murder scene)

“Ahem, what we’ve got, Mister President, sir, is the need to restructure our definition of values in order to grasp and predict more clearly worsening fluctuations in the current economic maelstrom …”

“English, please, boy, jus’ like your mama taught you.”

“Mister President, we need more than $700-billion to get this country out of the soft and smelly, sir. As in, right now.”

“Well, now, boys.” The presidential eyes rove around the grim figures sitting or standing in the office. The president chuckles John Wayne style, just before he punches the bad cowboy over the counter of the desert saloon bar. “Well, now, I just don’t seem to have that kind of cash in my wallet right just now, but let’s see when paw gets back from huntin’, ha ha …”

Grim silence. “Mister President, we need solutions, sir. We have proposed some, which may integrate sustainability with the immediate and long-term contexts …”

“Oh, get back on your mama’s lap and learn English again, boy; let’s just do the old American roulette thing.”

The president leaps up, takes out some chewing gum and sticks it in his mouth. He walks across the room, turns his back to a huge globe of the world and grins at his audience with a deep Robert de Niro chortle.

His audience sighs. It is clear they have been through this routine many times. “Ms Rice … could you spin that globe please, and you gentlemen keep your eyes on me, so you know the country who gets the job of pulling us out of the dung heap got the job fair and squa-are.”

His presidential finger wags at the advisers, while his face crinkles in a Kevin Costner wait-and-see grin.

Condoleezza spins the globe and goes back to her place. The president chuckles, chewing on his gum, the globe whirling behind him. “My. Y’all know, this reminds me of when I was in little britches and we would play eeny meeny miney mo, catch a nigga –”

“Careful, Mister President, security is tight but Obama’s guys may be listening in.”

The presidential eyes squint around the room. “Hell, I’m outta this office in a few months anyway, so who cares.” The president takes out the chewing gum and tosses it at the globe behind him.

He turns swiftly and puts his hands on his knees to look carefully at where the gum landed. Everyone comes forward and puts their hands on their knees, peering anxiously.

Imagine a row of golf-hardened bottoms in $5 000 suits.

The globe slows down like a roulette wheel. The gum is stuck on China, somewhere between Shanghai and Beijing.

A stiff silence. “I’d play that one again, Mister President. That country is now one big fella, sir. Should actually be called a soopa powa, well maybe not but could be –”

The presidential hand is raised while he turns sideways to leer at his audience with a crafty Dustin Hoffman smirk. “I could challenge you on that one, I’d –”

“Look, Mr President!”

The president turns to look at the globe. The gum, snail-like, has slid down to Taiwan, leaving a trail of presidential saliva behind it. He straightens up, as do the others.

“Well, now,” the president says. “Well, now. Just lookee that. The darnedest thing.”

“Mr President, remember that little guy kinda belongs to the big fella above him, and the big fella don’t want no one having any beef with the little guy –”

Once more the presidential arm is raised. His hands slap his thighs as he lets out a Tom Cruise snort. “Them fellas in the armaments biz were just so right with their proposals to me not so long ago. This is just … dandy!”

“What proposal sir? We never …”

“Y’all told me this country needs more than a few nickels to get it out the cow pats?”

Chorus: “Yes, Mr President, sir.”

“Now all together … what was the best thing that happened to the American economy in WWII?”

All chorus: “Pearl Harbour.”

“Absolutely!” A presidential hand whacks down on the table. “Imagine the factory belts across this country up and runnin’ again. We sell Taiwan arms, and give this country a real economic boost. Manufacturing demands go up. Sales! Money goin’ round and round like grandma’s hands in the baking dough. And I mean real money goin’ round and round, just like after Pearl Harbour. Employment. Bam bipitty bam, recession … ” the presidential hands are dramatically raised … “over!”

“But, sir,” says Condoleezza. “That big fellow right above Taiwan may just get a bit pissed –”

“You scared of a fight, soldier? You scared, huh? Bring on the fight. We supply, sit back, give advice, admonish, demonise, you know the drill. Class dismissed. Get the armament boys on the line to me. We could have a whole lot of ammo and missile launchers delivered to Taiwan by Christmas while we enjoy mama’s turkey and cranberry sauce.”

(All exeunt, save the president, and start shaking their heads once the door is closed.)

The president puts his feet up on his desk and reaches into a drawer for his mouth organ. He tries out a few ditties, then chooses to play John Denver’s Country Road. New lyrics to the tune start to murmur through his mind:

Country booys … take ’em home …
To that plaace near Chi-naaah …
Apache choppers, Javelin miss-iles
Take ’em home, take ’em home …

(Switches to Simon & Garfunkel)

I am just a poor prez and my story’s often told
I have squandered ou-ur revenues
For a world full of troubles and many I star-ar-ted
More lies and jest,
Here’s to the man who wants our WMD and disregards the rest …
Lie lie lie …

When I buggered up my country and gutted others too
I was no more than a clown,
Bullying half the world, places I’d no right bein’ in …
Strutting proud, seeking out the terr’ists who needed smoking out …
Then I heard the come-ons of the likes of Tony Blair …
I do declare
I was the one who sold terr’ists arms in the first place
So I took some comfort there …
Lie lie lie …

Now it’s off to Tai-wan, gonna be fun theeerre …
I hope the prez there likes our gifts
Especially the ones that rend and tear,
Rend and teaaarrrr …
the ones that orphan and widowwww … Ohh yeahh …
Bringing suffering everywhere.
Then the US can revive and do it agaaiin,
Hell yeah … do it again and again …
Lie lie lie …

(In his mind fireworks brighten the napalm-fragranced skies, cloudbanks of American dollars burst and pour on the soil of the land of the free and the brave, while the mouth organ falls and clatters off the empty bottle of hidden Jack Daniels …)

“George, yew in thar?”

“Yes, mama. Just doin’ somethin’ presidential. Be out in a minute: just doing something presidential like daddy always says …”

(Curtains close, simultaneously bursting into flames.)