Look Ma! He's Bent, this section is "Billy Bumpkin and His Goober"
Other sections over on the Proof that John Kerry is Unfit thread.
A Smooth Landing in Capital City
We were quickly surrounded by a throng of reporters, there being more reporters in town than there were news stories that day. The reporters were followed by many times the requisite number of government officials, lobbyists, and lawyers, owing to the fact that there was little else for anyone to do in Capital City at that moment in the nation's history. A herd of police officers and assorted onlookers rounded out the mob.
As a former newsman myself, I was a bit surprised by both the intensity and the scale of our reception, especially there in the busy capitol of the nation. But the business of governing had just recently been suspended due to the "resignation" of the President of the United State, a kind and gentle man who had become so sickened by the din and clatter of partisan politicking that he simply hadn't the heart to carry on any further. The press, of course, abhors a vacuum, and we sure filled it.
The mere landing of a house on the Capital City Mall was, I suppose, news in and of itself, especially in a time when many reporters had reverted to the sensationalism of earlier years. The fact that all four of us walked out of the ordeal with little more than bumps and bruises magnified the story's newsworthiness tenfold.
You can imagine, then, how stunning it must have seemed when, on top of all that, Billy Bumkin came striding out of the hovel dressed like the slickest campaigner around and sporting his mayoral sash. I'll be damned if it wasn't the perfect setup for Billy, who, though he'd learned the trade of politicking in a humble backwater, nonetheless had the art of wooing the public down pat. It's all local, after all.
Hilda tiptoed up beside her husband and gestured behind her backside for Cheslea to join them on the porch. Meanwhile, I slid into the shadows in the foyer and surveyed the members of the press, who were doing their best to maintain an air of civility as they jostled and prodded their ways to the front of the crowd in order to gain a better vantage.
Hilda turned and cast a glance my way. I could already read her thoughts. The upshot was this-with the combination of chaos and malaise that had gripped the countryside ever since the resignation of the former President, Billy might actually have a chance to make a splash in Capital City!
At that time Capital City was dominated by two competing parties--the DoGooders and the DoNothings. The DoGooders, being the more populist of the two, controlled the Central Council as well as the presidency. Nothing moved in Capital City without the weight of one party or the other behind it.
Fortunately, the Bumkin's loyalty to the DoGooders was unquestioned; plus, they had made some influential acquaintances among the DoGooders in the Central Council, as had I. And then there was Billy's natural charm, which, it was said, could uncurl a billy goat's horns.
Billy himself was not ignorant of the possibilities. If he could seize the moment, this might be the biggest day of his life.
Billy casually slung a leg up over the porch rail and engaged the group of reporters, one of whom jokingly asked if he had been sent from heaven to rescue the government and lead the people to glory. Billy raised an eyebrow, bit his lip, let his head sway back and forth a little, and with a smile as sincere as a baby's burp chuckled, "I'll just leave that to the man upstairs and the people down here to decide."
A warm murmur spread through the throng as Billy winked at a little girl whose father had just propped her up on the porch rail for a better view.
"And what's your name, sweetie?" he cooed.
"Gwendolyn," she answered as flashbulbs popped in rapid succession like the end of a fireworks display. "Are you our new president?"
Billy mugged for the crowd, beaming with pleasure as he scooped little Gwen up in his arm and brushed back some golden locks from her forehead. The flashbulbs kept up their barrage.
"No, honey, I'm just lil' ol' Billy Bumkin, the Mayor of Possum Holler, Arkansaw. But if I ever am your president, would you like to come work for me?"
Little Gwen threw her arms spontaneously around Billy's neck, partly because he was just oozing a sugary avuncular quality, but also out of fear of the members of the press, whose popping cameras had intensified into a fusillade.
"Which party do you follow, Mayor Bumkin?" shouted one. "The DoGooders, or the DoNothings?"
"Are you seeking the nomination of either party?" screamed another.
"Did the tornado tear out all your plumbing, or did you not have plumbing in the first place?" screeched a third as she snooped around the Bumkin hovel.
The next morning, every paper, pamphlet, and broadsheet in the land ran a photograph of Billy and Little Gwen before the backdrop of the miracle cottage from Possum Holler, Arkansaw. Better yet, the headline in the Capital City Crier, the capitol's leading organ, read, "Are You Our New President?" and featured a smashing photo of Little Gwen throwing herself onto Billy as if he were her own dear Grampa with a pocketful of lollipops. Literally overnight, Billy Bumkin had become a contender for the vacant presidency.
That photo, believe it or not, set the stage for the beginning of the Bumkin administration. As unlikely as it seems, Mayor Billy Bumkin of Possum Holler, Arkansaw, was nominated shortly thereafter to be the DoGooder's candidate for president, and the appropriate committee on the Central Council soon agreed to schedule a popular vote.
But before I can tell you the rest of the story, I have to tell you about another big day in Billy's life. For while he did have the charm and instincts of a first class campaigner, he also had another advantage over just about every other ambitious DoGooder and DoNothing in all of Capital City.
You see, Billy Bumkin had a gremlin in his goober.
courtesy of Dick M wwwrebelholler.com
A developing story, more to come on this and the Proof that John Kerry is Unfit thread.
Watch for the header Look Ma! He's Bent! |
