Credit: Peasap / Flickr
Prologue: Somewhere in Guam, in a buried three-story titanium bunker, lies an electronic bunker, its first level a sprawling Virginia-style country interior, half-timbered and fitted out with beds and entertainment centers that accommodate some 45 Deep State technos.
The next level, below, is the workstation with decks of receivers and senders, a 30-by-40 square foot, two-way screen connected to the White House by closed and backed up circuits. The command center is alongside a full commercial kitchen where sworn personnel can cook anything — from truffles and chocolate bits to roasted peacock — providing them with the comforts that compensate for the stress they breathe in like air.
The third level is a subway station connected to a Marine helo pad 6 miles away used only by the Commander-in-Chief, who is a regular visitor.
Deep State 1: “They’re calling us the deep state in the news now? You can even hear it on the floor of the House. Redbone (R-Georgia) just used the term today, on a junket to Kazakhstan. Him? That banana turned blotchy and sticky years ago; we gotta send some rockers and rollers to educate him.”
Deep State 2: “Chill a little. He’s just a Congressman running out of–“
Deep State 1 (interrupting): “He’s one of our rockers and rollers, remember? We let this shit get a little farther and we’ll be flying out to our shelters on escape Boeings with our staffs and grandmothers. We stay much longer in this mess and we’ll be glad we have a two-week-old banana to eat.”
Deep State 2: “You do this Armageddon thing much longer and you’re gonna lose your membership card. Just get Mnuchin at Treasury to work something up with that fake surfer, Navarro, and print some bills. Maybe $50 billion, maybe less, if we put ’em in the right hands. By the way, keep in mind, the left hands are worthless, right?”
Deep State 3: “Hmm … I think you two are missing the big picture. The ‘left hands,’ as you, DS-2, call them, exist everywhere. In the MidEast, China, Japan, CALIMex, the EU from Stockholm to Palermo and Athens, the UK … hell, even Canada … and we’re not going to move all that back to center, or wherever, overnight ….”
DS-1 and DS-2 (in unison): “But–“
DS-3: “You people don’t get to interrupt me, okay? I wasn’t finished.”
DS-2: “But–“
(A single shot rings out, and DS-2 drops to the floor)
DS-3: “Bring in a new DS-2 will you?
DS-1: “Who me?
DS-3 “Who do you think I’m talking to? You, or The Slump over there with a .50 caliber stone in his earhole?”
(DS-1 leaves the secure room and DS-3 starts talking to HQ through his lapel mic.)
DS-3 “You’ve seen how far the situation has deteriorated here. This is just a TV news control room here, now … nothing’s originating. I’m gonna need some new brains, people with boosted neurons who love to humiliate each other.”
HQ “We’ve been getting accustomed to hearing that from you, DS-3. Don’t make us remind you how many Lessers you’ve been going through.”
DS-3 “I know, I know, but the fact is these guys you’ve been sending me can’t even smell the shit they step on. I’ve got a grip–“
HQ (interrupting): “Look, I wouldn’t be talking to you if I thought you can’t control your domain — you’d be bleeding from your sinuses instead — but at the rate you’re using up Lessers we’ll be running out of qualified Homeland staff in a few months, and we don’t want to call a special session of Congress for a public budget augment. Now, what I–”
DS-3 (interrupting): “But, you heard these freaks didn’t–“
HQ: “Are you interrupting me, DS-3? Because if you are you’ll be forcing me to make an Incident out of this.”
(DS-3 says nothing as he ceremoniously turns his head and body toward the Seal of The Deep State hanging on the wall at his side.)
HQ: “There, that’s what I wanted to see. Now, what I want you to do is to issue within the next 12 hours a General Announcement from The Weather Channel that a Mode Five typhoon is nearing Tampa? Got that? We want everybody to be reminded Florida is drowning. Got that?
DS-3: “Yes, sir. Right away, sir. May I ask why we’re doing that?
HQ: “No, you may not.”
DS-3 “Is this all you need from me?”
HQ: “That’s all we need from you at this moment, right.” (HQ hangs up; DS-3 picks up his EPIphone.)
DS-3: “Cyclone, please, this is DS-3.”
Weather Channel: “Cyclone is on line.”
DS-3: “We need full hurricane graphics and big tits warning of a Mode 5 typhoon heading for Tampa in the next 24 hours — 15- to 20-foot surges tearing at what’s left of St. Petersburg and the peninsula, mandatory evacuations, local governments alerted, Red Cross … the usual.”
Cyclone: “May I ask what this is about?”
DS-3: “No, you may not.”
DS-1 (re-entering room): “What now?”
DS-3: “HQ ordered a distraction.”
DS-1: “What kind?
DS-3 “You mean I have to tell you? POTUS just said he’s closing down public schools and hospitals in suburban coastal cities and converting them to middle-class BnBs. We need the hurricane for a distraction. “
End Story.
[For Now.]
Bob Dorn
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