From Operatives E. Joseph Callahan and S. Oskar Morgenstern
Location: Washington, D.C.
D.C. night was as hot and damp as Jerry Nadler
jogging in a sweat suit. As we furtively slunk down the sidewalk,
giant cockroaches skittered swiftly away from us. Peering from
beneath our tin-foil hats, our eyes darted back and forth. We
were on the lookout for any neocon operatives who might be tailing
us. Our footsteps reverberated on the cracked pavement, the
staccato beat tapping out an unholy jungle rhythm that echoed
the pounding fear we felt thundering in our chests. This could
be our only chance, you see. We had to take it or our consciences
would gnaw at us like rats nibbling at cheese wheels.
thoughts drifted back to that fateful meeting a week before,
at the secret LewRockwell.com bunker deep in the Appalachian
Mountains. The brotherhood had chosen us (being by far its most
expendable members) to attempt this dangerous mission. We were
to steal Jonah Goldberg's plans for the invasion of
blood was still boiling, because William F. Buckley and his
crew of scalawags and bounders hadn't tried harder to get rid
of Social Security, the interstate highway system, fluoridated
water, and other modern outrages. But he knew that it was vital
to keep his emotions in check, at least this night: the mission
finally arrived at Jonah's apartment building. We waited near
the front door. It wasn't long before someone exited.
how are you tonight?" we asked him.
guy gave us a puzzled look.
Phillip doing?" We knew that everyone in this neighborhood
had a friend named Phillip.
he's great. Just got a sweet appointment over at Justice."
We told him he'd get it."
yeah, Foggy Bottom and all. Mums the word." We winked at
him, and he smiled knowingly back at us.
passed in through the front door, which he held open for us,
and into the building.
get Jonah out of the apartment, we slid a two-for-one offer
on Big Macs
under his door. A moment later Jonah dashed out of the building
like a man possessed, bringing a leashed Cosmo with
we were sure he was safely gone, we popped back out of the maintenance
closet in which we had secreted ourselves. We had to work quickly.
Stu pulled his G. Gordon Liddy "Political Operative Kit"
out of his backpack and quickly opened the apartment door.
shut the door behind us, and we were enveloped in darkness.
As Gene backed out of Stu's way, he tripped over something on
the floor. Stu clicked his flashlight to view the obstacle:
a stack of Juggs magazines.
picked himself up and put on his flashlight as well. We began
to explore the room. It was littered with copies of The
New Criterion and empty
pizza boxes. The fair Jessica, as we had previously determined,
was out of town.
across from us was a fireplace. Over the mantle was an elaborate
shrine. Scented candles burned at either end of the mantle.
In the center was a large portrait of Abraham Lincoln, hung
over a replica of a box from Ford Theater. On either side of
the box were Confederate battle flags floating in… what was
it? Stu took a whiff: urine! He reeled backwards in disgust
and horror. The dark heart of the vast neocon conspiracy was
more decadent than we could have imagined.
either side of the mantle rose tall bookcases. Stu shined his
flashlight over them and stifled a scream. Hundreds of books:
every one of them an autographed William Shatner novel! Dozens
of videos: every one of them a Simpson's episode! What
had begun as a simple "fake and take" was turning
into a nightmare. We needed to calm down. We plopped down on
the comfy sofa across the room.
immediately, waves of well-being washed over us. We felt completely
know," said Gene, "a nice job on staff for a GOP Senator
really wouldn't be so bad."
not at all," replied Stu. His eyelids were heavy and droopy.
"Gee, I'd like to look into those CBO numbers on Social
Security privitization. I bet they'd be pretty interesting."
Gene said. "Personally, I think allowing workers to invest
2.37% of their contributions in private accounts would be a
but we really should attack a Third-World country first. Maybe
Paraguay. The American people need a call to national greatness
to rally behind."
jumped up. "Stu, get the hell off of there."
pulled Stu to safety. "It's the couch--the damned couch.
Somehow, it was taking over our minds!"
explains everything: Jonah has spent so many hours on that monstrosity
that it's probably in complete control of him by now."
Stu stumbled into the bathroom. A sour feeling began to grow
in the pit of his stomach and his intestines groaned. Desperate
to avoid disaster, he sought relief. His trembling hands reached
for the medicine cabinet. Perhaps there'd be something in it
to stifle the waves of distress that were beginning to wash
up on the shore of his colon. The door squeaked as it slowly
opened. In the darkness, Stu squinted, attempting to ascertain
mother of liberty! Gene, come here quickly, you won't believe
rushed in. His jangled nerves were nearly at the breaking point.
"For Rothbard's sake, what is it now?"
pointed. There, in the medicine cabinet, was a cache of fake
goatees. No wonder Jonah had been able to shed that thing so
quickly when Bob Murphy had mocked it!
to them was a voodoo doll of Murphy himself. A sheet from a
prescription pad was pinned to the doll's chest. Scrawled across
it were the words "up
dosage of Prozac." Sardonic smiles crossed our faces. If
only Jonah knew how much Prozac Bob was already consuming, he
wouldn't have had to gone to all that trouble.
tension had broken for the moment and we headed back in to the
main room, wary of its other hidden terrors. Being diehard
anti-state, anti-war, pro-market sort of guys, we had to get
a hunch, Gene picked up a folder lying on top of a mahogany
do you think this is significant?"
across the folder in large, bold letters were the words: "African
studied it for a moment, silently mouthing the words. "Yes,
I do believe we're getting somewhere."
thumbed through the folder. The plans for the invasion itself
were sketchy, but the folder also contained policy proposals
for the period after the conquest was completed. The first of
them pitched slavery reform: Slave owners could only own slaves for five years, after
which they could not own any again for the next decade.
continued through the papers with an increasing sense of horror.
Ethnic slaughter was to be phased out over a
twelve-year period, with most of the reductions to come in the
out years. Cleansing would return to present levels at the end
of that time unless further treaties were negotiated. There
would be a ban on "late-term" clitoridectomies. Another
position paper supported a scaled-back version of a popular
witch-doctoring-reform package, including a provision that shamanic
care management organizations cannot be sued.
stuff was the ticket! We knew that these scoundrels and their
plans had to be exposed. Stu stuffed the documents into his
backpack and we prepared to leave. As a final gesture we scrawled
"Happy Bastille Day" over Lincoln's face. Now
it was time to kick the cat, yell at the TV, take our marbles,
and go home. That's just the kind of libertarians we are, you
see. We slipped off into the night.
we were a couple of blocks away the tension began to dissipate.
Just as we thought we were in the clear, a hand fell on Stu's
shoulder. He jumped about a foot off of the sidewalk.
Stuie, enjoying the evening?"
was Stu's uncle, Mort Morgenstern!
What the hey?
hi, Uncle Mort. What are you doing here?"
you've done great work. My bosses will be pleased."
are you talking about?"
think it was those Big Mac coupons that had Jonah tearing out
of there like that? We put in a little call from the White House
offering him a speech-writing position in the Bush administration,
if he and Cosmo would just come down immediately."
wanted the plans. But we needed you to do the break-in, so if
you were caught, no one could link it back to us. Now it's time
to hand over the goods."
you crazy? Lew needs these. He's going to broadcast them to
the world. "
Mort shook his head sadly.
boys wouldn't want the story of your little incident involving
the Ambassador from Tuvalu, the kiwi fruits, and the giant plaster
chicken to become public, now would you?
looked at each other in shock. "You know about that?"
know a lot more than you think."
reached in his backpack and withdrew the plans. Reluctantly,
he handed them to Uncle Mort.
knew you boys would see things my way. Have a good night."
He merged back into the darkness from which he had appeared.
had failed, duped yet again by Uncle Mort's machinations. We're
sorry, Lew, we're sorry. Is it OK for us to come back to headquarters?