Another Satisfied Customer

The situation room, Obama’s Washington campaign headquarters

David Plouffe: But, Senator, how were we to know that Sarah Palin was going to do so well?

Obama: Listen, you guys assured me that after five minutes with Biden she’d be sucking her thumb and crying. Oh, there you are, Axelrod! Ok, the rest of you guys, blow (everybody shuffles out, leaving Obama and Axelrod alone).

Axelrod: Sorry I’m late, Senator; I was just counting up some of the money from our small donors. Amazing how many people there are in Michigan named Hope N. Change.

Obama: Look, Axelrod, never mind that. What happened with the debate last night? Forty-six percent of the American people watched Palin gut Biden and hang him up so the blood could drain off – that’s almost seventy million voters, Dave. You told me that you had arranged to jam the transmission in all the swing states.

Axelrod: I did, sir, I did! That is, we purchased a jamming system, and the salesman gave us a great discount – and we need to watch the pennies, now we’re in the home stretch. But it just…malfunctioned, for some reason.

Obama: What kind of system was it?

Axelrod: It’s the Precision Analog Communication Obliterator. There were loads of testimonials that the salesman showed us. And he gave us a demonstration. I just don’t understand what went wrong.

Obama: Well, do we at least get our money back?

Axelrod (shifting uncomfortably in his chair): Well, er, here’s the thing, Senator. When it became obvious that the jammer wasn’t working, I immediately went back to the electronics store where I had purchased it, but when I got there, everything had changed.

Obama: What do you mean, “changed”?

Axelrod: Well, on Monday the store was called Paco Electronics; when I returned this morning, it had somehow been transformed into Pok Ho’s South China Barbecue.

Obama: South China Barbecue?

Axelrod: Oh, yeah. You could smell the vinegar and roast cat all the way down the block. Anyway, I talked to Mr. Pok Ho, and asked him what happened to the electronics store, and he just kept saying, “Most unfortunate! Dey rooz their rease.”

Obama: So, how much did this caper set us back?

Axelrod: Erm…well… You remember how much you got from Fannie Mae in donations?

Obama: What?!? You spent over a hundred thousand dollars on this junk?

Axelrod: No, not exactly. That’s how much we’ve got left.

Obama (clapping a hand to his noggin, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly): Allah fubar!

* * *

Meanwhile, the mid-morning sun hovered benevolently over the penthouse balcony of Paco Tower, throwing its warm and restorative rays over the reclining form of the Captain of Industry, stretched out in his plush garden chair. He languidly stirred his espresso, while casting a benign and loving eye on the numerous ornamental wooden tubs dotting the porch, each one filled with richest soil from his Peruvian strip-mining operations, and cradling a carnivorous plant. Spurgeon, the butler, glided noiselessly over the flagstones carrying a silver tray, and hove to alongside his master. He bowed, proffered the tray, and, in a soft baritone suggestive of the barely discernible rumble of distant thunder, said, “Your newspaper, Sir.” The tycoon took the paper and thanked Spurgeon, who floated back to his pantry.

Snapping the newspaper open, the Captain of Industry read the following headline: “Nielsen Ratings for VP Debate Highest Ever.” The resulting peal of laughter, which sounded like a jolly triplet played on a French horn, startled the turkey buzzards that had been perching amiably on the balcony wall, sending them into a slowly mounting funnel of graceful, feathered airfoils, circling Paco Tower in what appeared, for all the world, to be a series of victory laps.