A Letter from BillWashington,
DC Dear Mr. Rockwell, While relaxing here on a break from some intensive thinking about the future of the Mideast, which I've been doing with my good friends Yasser Arafat and Ehud Barak, I stopped in at your web site, as I so often do. There, I found an article by two guys named Gene and Stu. (Very funny fellows, by the way, especially that bit about Newt Gingrich as a cannibal! Let me tell you, Hill and I got a good chuckle out of that one.) They speculated as to what I would do when I retired. Now, I haven't made anything public on this topic yet, but since these fellows came so close to the mark, I thought that I'd announce my plans on your web site first, if y'all are interested. Those two fine young men said they thought I'd go into the entertainment industry – well, they got that part right. But it was the wrong medium. Television just doesn't give me enough of a chance to display my full vision to the American people, and Paula Jones could tell you how I am about displaying myself! (That's just a little example of what we, in the entertainment industry, call self-deprecating humor.) No, boys, it's the movies for me. I've decided I'm going to be a screenwriter. In fact, since I enjoy your web site so much (although you do get a little feisty at times, Mr. Rockwell!) I'm going to go even further, and include here a letter I just wrote to my good friend, Stephen Spielberg, to give you an idea of the kind of things I'm likely to be working on: Dear Steve, Hi, Steve, and thanks again for coming through in this last election cycle – Hill couldn't have done it without you and your buddies! As you probably know, the constitution forbids me from serving a third term. Therefore, I've been fishing around for something to do once I retire, and I think I'd like to try my hand at screen writing. I believe that the current crop of screenwriters are just too tired and cliché-ridden to build a bridge into the 21st century for American movies. But my fresh, bold, visionary screenplays would do just that. Let me share with you a few of my ideas: Mean-Spirited ParkBob Cole, a well-meaning, honorable, but sadly mistaken scientist from Kansas, revives a bunch of old dinosaurs from samples of their DNA. In his theme park in Washington, DC, he brings back to life Calvin Coolidge, J.P. Morgan, Andrew Carnegie, Henry Ford, Robert Taft, and others of their long-dead breed. Immediately, these monsters begin shredding the American safety net. Bill Winston, a handsome chaos scientist from a backward southern state, warns Cole that "Entitlements will find a way… no matter what precautions you take, entitlements will break through. Entitlements just can't be stopped." In the end, it turns out that Winston was right – the dinosaurs are driven back to their lost world, Cole is forced to make a living lobbying against Microsoft, and entitlements are able to grow freely once again. A.G., The ExtraterrestrialA creature appears on earth that, superficially, seems to be human. But his oddly stiff mannerisms and wooden speaking style give him away as an alien. He comes from a planet on which the temperature is rising at a critical level. (Unlike the earth, where thanks to my administration's forward-looking environmental policies, the climate has cooled.) Mistaking our planet for his, he is frantic to do something about this "global-warming" he is afraid of. He is in danger from an evil government scientist, Knute Loverich, a heavy-set southerner with thick white hair. The scientist, puzzled by A.G.'s incessant talk of global warming, wants to experiment on A.G. and look for evidence of higher-brain functions. A.G. takes refuge with a bright southern boy from a broken family, little Willie. Willie, a compassionate lad, is happy to shelter A.G, but Willie gets angry with A.G. when he catches him making an extremely long-distance call on the family phone. Willie disconnects the line, but A.G.'s plaintive cries of "A.G. – phone contributors," move little Willie to aid him. "But, A.G., we mustn't phone from this house," Willie tells him, "Mom will be furious." "No controlling legal authority," A.G. insists, so they go ahead and make the calls. A wealthy contributor comes and picks up A.G. in his Lear jet, and whisks him out of harms way. AffirmistadA despotic ship captain named Rick Morse has purchased a ship full of voters from the evil Nacilbuper tribe, and is attempting to sail them across the gender gap to a place that truly looks like America. The voters rebel, and take charge of the ship. While the voters force Morse to sail to the right by the light of day, each night, under the cover of darkness, he slips back to the left. By employing this stratagem, he arrives victoriously at his destination. There, the voters are brought to trial for their rebellion. The prosecutor, Peter Jennings Bryan, argues that the voters' insistence on sailing to the right was a temper tantrum on their part. The noble defense lawyer, William Jefferson Adams, a southern cousin of John Quincy Adams, defends the voters, claiming that "These men should not be judged by the contents of their character, but by the color of their skin." The judge approves of their diversity, and orders them all admitted to U Cal Berkeley on full scholarship. Arkansas Bill and the Congress of DoomThe evil Congress of Doom has enslaved thousands of children, after throwing them off of the welfare roles. Now, it forces them to work long hours, deep underground, soaked by a steady stream of trickle-down wealth, mining for the magical stones of voodoo economics. Arkansas Bill courageously breaks into the Congress of Doom to rescue them. He negotiates with the Congress to have some new vents put in the mine, gets the children one day of family leave per month, and ensures that their health insurance benefits are transferable when they move to a new mine. For his courageous act he is elected "Archaeologist of the Year." Hope you enjoyed my ideas.
Your friend, Gene
Callahan is a regular contributor to mises.org,
and Stu © 2000, Gene Callahan and Stu Morgenstern |