new lies / old lies / whose lies
Friday, April 26, 1996
The Senate Flush with Thieves vs. The White Full House of Liars
"I've got morons on my team."
- manager of the Argentine mine from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
[Editor's note: Having been ravaged for the last several weeks by an obscure tropical fungus, I have fallen behind in processing your favorite campaign correspondent's updates. Please forgive the delay in bringing this Web Walker tract to your browser.]
It was a hard choice. The Kansas primary or America's Caribbean paradise: The United States Virgin Islands' caucuses. Explaining to the editor, "This story must be covered in person. Presence is everything in this business. The states are covered. There are so many big media guys out there, their cameras are up each other's asses - but who's covering the US territories? Did we see Ted Koppel reporting live from American Samoa?"
Dole, with all 4 delegates, has staked out St. Croix. He and his campaign staff have taken over Club Comanche. Gramm is in the adjoining suite feeding sugar to their new mascot, a bananaquit. Kemp is in the lobby impersonating an iguana as his penance for endorsing Forbes. I don't think it's working because Lamar has been sent down to feed him some flies.
Using my pervasive personal charm, I convince the night clerk to give me a balcony suite. As I head for my room, I suggest he try an ice pack. With a room above the vending machines, I hope to pick up some campaign intelligence. From below, I overhear, "We'll have Newt do the Larry King show." "No! better yet, he'll host it." "Right, he could do that Johnny Carson thing with the animals." "Sure, Newt loves endangered species (like liberal Democrats)."
The clueless idiots think one hour on a CNN show will make up for a season of lies? It's a call-in program. They better pray the animal trainer gets a call; otherwise they'll be trying to field questions like "When will Newt eat worms and die?" Using the covered walkway to cross over the street, I leave these fools to their cheap talk and overpriced Cokes and head to St. Thomas.
Buchanan, with no delegates, is on St. Thomas in the Gecko Gazebo reminiscing with a mongoose, "When Nixon was president, we used to run everything." But forget about Pat. I've encountered an even more troubling problem:
Me: "I'm telling you the demented New World Order bastards have stolen the miraculous spiral staircase." Unable to reach through the phone and rip out his throat, I'm reduced to reason: "It's in the Grand Hotel. I tell you, I saw it. It's right in the middle of Irmela's Jewel Studio for God and everyone to see."
Him: "Walker, you're drunk and crazy. The stairs are still here. If they were missing, it would be in all the papers."
So lies an ex-friend in Santa Fe, who better go into hiding.
Me: "This story is too big for you! This is about GATT! This is about NAFTA! I'll have to take it to the only man who understands!" Unable to locate Ross Perot, I descend on Pat Buchanan.
Me: "Pat, you understand foreign trade. It's imperative you help me. These ghoulish bottom feeders are stealing the country piece by piece and smuggling it out through the U.S. territories." The mongoose gives me the evil eye so I order another round.
While we're trying to determine how to restore the equilibrium of US artifacts, the mongoose, now looking more like an iguana, suggests, "You fools need help. Have you considered asking Keyes?"
Finishing another round or three, we leave for St. John. The bananaquit (who looked more like an iguana a few drinks earlier) bids us farewell.
Keyes, with some cheers but no delegates, has been relegated to St. Johns. We finally bring him to ground him at Maho Bay Camp and Harmony Resort.
"Frances are you with us on this? It is vital to US interests," I explain, trying to restore a rope to a recently dislodged tent pin.
The ambassador, scrambling out of the now-collapsing tent, raves incoherently, "Alan. The name is Alan. Not Frances, I stand for the national anthem. I didn't write it." He chases us away without understanding this is about "American values."
As we're walking back past Drunk Bay, another black and yellow bananaquit lands on Pat's shoulder and suggests Dornan. Ignoring my pleas to quit taking advice from birds, we end up on the next ferry.
Dornan, having arrived in the British Virgin Islands by mistake, gets no delegates. He is babbling incoherently when we catch up to him on one of the ferries.
Dornan: "Are you lost, confused and seasick?"
Me: "No, you are. Now, just stay there, vomit, and listen. This mission could mean your very soul." Pat and I attempt to explain the problem. Realizing Bob is useless as an ally, we shove him over the rail and head back to town to close the bars.
Back in Kansas, a few citizens take time off from watching paint dry to turn out for this exciting campaign, only to discover the Governor canceled the primary three weeks ago.
Cigarette in one hand, beer in the other, I stare at the screen and wonder how the hell to deal with this story.
Me: "Simple! I'll lie. Who'll notice? This godawful boring campaign has put everyone to sleep. We'll just report the primary that didn't happen."
Bob "Dorothy" Dole drops a house on his remaining opponents. The shoes sticking out from under the house look a lot like the First Lady's. Bob takes all 31 delegates with 73% of the vote. Bob asks the great Wizard of Oz for a campaign that can beat Carville. The Wizard roars with laughter, "If I could do that, do you think I'd still be stuck here?"
Pat "Scarecrow" Buchanan takes a pitchfork to the man behind the curtain but still only gets 16%. Already having heart and courage, Pat asks the Wizard of Oz for a brain. He hopes to use it to find out what he's going to do when he gets to San Diego.
Alan "Tin Woodsman" Keyes was seen wandering the cornfields, clicking his heels together and repeating, "There's no place like home." Despite his splendid baritone rendition of "If I only had a heart," Alan gets less than one percent of the vote. He asks the Wizard for a conservative heart because his liberal one is starting to show.
Bob "Cowardly Lion" Dornan, lost in Nebraska, mumbles, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." Bob asks for the courage to decide to be in this race or out of it before he makes nothing but political enemies on all sides.
April 1, 1996, 11:36 PM EST
WASHINGTON (lies.com) - Today, President Clinton signed into law a bill crafted to void the first five amendments of the Bill of Rights. The original bill, proposed by liberal Democrats and requiring the removal all ten amendments, was bottled up in the Senate by the filibustering of a minority of Republicans. The final compromise bill, requiring the removal of only the first five amendments, was passed by a majority of both liberal Democrats and moderate Republicans.
Corrections to last week's column:
- The Dole campaign called to explain that their candidate is not in denial and has not been in denial longer than President Clinton.
- The Ross Perot volunteers called to ask, "Is your refrigerator running? Then you better catch it!" Laughing like loons, they hung up.
Next week's episode: "Montana: Freemen or Free Radicals?" or "Whitewater: Witch Hunt or Entertainment?"
I can't even watch TV without getting URLs shoved down my throat.
The Web Walker
new lies / old lies / whose lies
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