It's mid-afternoon in a room over the Anything Goes Bar on a busy street in South Chicago. In attendance are university professors William Ayers and his wife Bernardine Dohrn, former White House chief-of-staff Rahm Emanuel, and the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, hereinafter referenced as A, D, E, and W, respectively, if not respectfully.
~E: We all know why we’re here so…
~W: Actually I’m not sure, Rahm, unless you’ve got somethin’ else I can use to damn America. Our friend Barry listened to me damn America for 20 years…so…I suspect he’s all for gettin’ it done. Reckon he might suggest Kandahar as the current Hiroshima…or maybe poppin’ HIV on all the Shiites, like Reagan and Bush’s old man did to black folk?
~E: Of course not, Rev! He just sent about 30,000 of our guys over there last year to break things and kill people. You outta your *&^%$*^ gourd? Of course, he’s put out a reward for the guy who fires his %#$@*^^ gun the least times and kills the fewest people.
~D: Maybe he has an assassination in mind (giggles) or somebody to waste…somebody like that mean Mitch McConnell…maybe a poison-tipped umbrella to the thigh…oh…hahahahaha…
~A: Shut up, Berhardine! Cut her some slack, guys. She dreamed of her new hero, Jared Loughner, again last night and threw darts at the dog this morning…you know…that PTSD thing…had to call off her classes at the university today…couldn’t take a chance on her threatening the dean again.
~E: Actually, I’m checking to see if that organization is still in place for all ^%^**(%# political emergencies…
~W: Oh, you mean the Universalism to Negate Demeaning of Erudite Realists, Theologians and Honest Educators Basic to the United States. It’s called by its acronym thingy on the South Side…you know…Under the Bus! I’m the head honcho right now and Jesse and Daschle are helpin’ me with fund-raisin’ for the convention in Cancun this month.
~A: Cancun! You outta your mind, Jeremiah? That’s not even in the *&^%$# U-S-of-A!
~W: Yeah…but you won’t see no snow there in February…hoo hah…
~D: Maybe you’ll run into some of the drug-runners and get some action…better take a few grenades and some AK-47s…blood flying everywhere, better than blowing up a measly Brinks truck.
~E: Stuff it, Bernadine. I’ve called this little meeting for two #@%$^%* reasons. Maybe I should say two elections.
~A: Let me guess, Rahm…Chicago mayor and U.S. president 2012.
~D: Whoopee! Bring back the Untouchables and rearm ACORN and Van Jones’ outfit, STORM. Revolutionize everything in sight. Death to the infidels!
~A: Shut up Bernardine! This is not 1968…those glorious days are gone forever (starts singing Blowin’ In the Wind, We Shall Overcome).
~E: A-r-g-g-h-h-a-a-R-R-G-G-H-H!!! Shut the *&^%**^% up, Bill. You’re way off key anyway. And, Bernardine, this is not prayer time for the Muslims, even if Bill does sound like one of those muezzins screaming out of one of those towers. (turns to Ayers) You’re right, Bill. Got a twofer in the works.
~W: Why do I smell somethin’ like the West Wing movin’ on over to Chicago now? You gonna run for mayor and run the Chicago White House Campaign, too, Rahm? Barry’s settin’ up campaign headquarters where everybody votes twice and the dead maybe three times…hoo hah…I love it. By the way, Rahm, did you actually send ol’ Howard Dean a dead fish in the mail back when he got the DNC job, threw you under the bus, and won big in 2008?
~E: Never mind, Jeremiah. I’m not the ^%&*%# typical white person. I’m more like you…hahahaha…I don’t have scruples…
~W: He don’t have conscience and dem dat has ’em is soon forgotten (duet with Rahm – Ol’ Man River tune).
~A: Sheesh…is this the South Side loony bin?
~D: (looking in handbag): I’m bound to have something to put them out of their misery (pulls out letter-opener and lunges toward Wright).
~A: That does it, Bernardine! You’d better leave and don’t run over anyone on some sidewalk on the way home. (D leaves)
~E: Sorry about that, Bill…got carried away. It’s a form of that ^*%$# PTSD…still sweating out that #^%&*@# judge that said I haven’t lived here since 2009 and can’t be elected to rule Chicago with an iron fist. The trauma’s about got me. Anyway, now that I know the Under The Bus is still in business, we can make plans for my mayor-run and Barry’s gig in 2012.
~W: Word to the wise there, Rahm, namely, don’t put no horse’s head in the judge’s bed…not even a dead fish in the mail. You may not be Italian but you got the “godfather mentality,” though I don’t actually believe you bit off your little finger.
~A: So what’s the strategy, Rahm? You got the machine in your corner here, bought and paid for when Barry appointed the mayor’s brother to your old job. You got the union guys, with old Andy Stern the emeritus and probably still head of the SEIU having unlimited access to the White House, as you know. The little old ladies with blue hair think you’re a hunk and money’s no problem, with George Soros worth a few million in the extreme case that some votes have to be bought.
~E: Well, I’m still on the ballot but the thing is still in the #%$&^*^ courts so…
~A: Little arm-twisting, huh, Rahm? Maybe even worse, huh, like a threat to the judge’s family…a sort of contract. The Weather Underground has a special manual on that stuff. Just say the word and…
~W: Whoa! I didn’t sign up for no part o’ that, Bill. You and Bernardine mighta got away with that stuff back in the 60s but that ain’t now. The feds are probably watchin’ us right now, meanin’ ME, and I got a bunch o’ sermons lined up, with all those LOVE offerings. That may be Chicago politics but look what ol’ Fitzgerald did to Blago. Hunh-uh…none o’ that stuff. I’m outta here…and I never was here…and I won’t be here again. (leaves)
~A: That old man just has no guts, does he, Rahm? Rahm? Rahm? Rahm?