Posted on 08/22/2024 11:11:15 PM PDT by lightman
Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the Vice-President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There's nothing that the government can do to me if I've broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American Vice-President is an honor.
I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the Vice-President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.
The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.
"Sorry about that," said the Vice-President "Andrew is very hungry."
"I don't appreciate..." I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. "Of course," I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.
"And his brother Eric is very thirsty." said the Vice-President .
I didn't say anything. The Vice-President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don't want to seem unkind.
My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.
"Eric's children are also quite hungry."
With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.
"And their grandmother can't stand for long."
I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the Vice-President.
"Their grandfather doesn't like the cold."
I wanted to shout- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The Vce-President hadn't moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face her.
"Andrew's whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven't planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do."
My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.
"By the way," She added, "I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I'm firing you as head of your business. I'll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There's a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can't come to you for jobs groveling like beggars."
I looked up. The Vice-President dropped her spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his creme brulee. She drained the last drops of her wine. As the table was cleared, she lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. She stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.
What had I done wrong?
As if answering the unspoken thought, the Vice-President suddenly cocked her head, locked her empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as she folded his hands.
"You should have stopped me at the dinner roll," he said.
At least she-who-may-not-be-shamed did not demand oral sex as an appetizer!
FReepmail - with good intentions - wink
A nod is as good as a wink to a blind bat!
😂🤣😜😅😇
Aye, aye, aye!
First appeared in ‘08 about Øbama tweaked it a bit but a little more pronoun editing is needed to make this Friday -worthy.
Reminds me of the Obama meal at McDonald’s. You order everything you want then the guy behind you in line pays for it.
At my table you pull this crap you don’t live to see another day!
There were instances that I first mistook as mistakes.
As time went on I became more convinced that something wasn't quite right.
In the end, there was no denying that it was all done on purpose.
Nice!
But note to you and those who might use it:
It needs a few corrections (misses in the ‘update’).
pronouns shmonouns... let them choose them, what else is new...
let’s stop her at the invite instead of the dinner roll.
</chuckle>
I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics.
The respected businessman must obviously be a Chinese National. And as such he would never have been invited to the White House. Nor treated this way.
Or maybe this fellow really was a US Citizen. But even if had tried to stop the taking of his life at the dinner roll - he wouldn't have been successful.
Slightly-updated:
Once upon a time, I was invited to the White House for a private dinner with the Vice-President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There’s nothing that the government can do to me if I’ve broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with an American Vice-President is an honor.
I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the Vice-President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.
The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.
“Sorry about that,” said the Vice-President “Andrew is very hungry.”
“I don’t appreciate...” I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. “Of course,” I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.
“And his brother Eric is very thirsty.” said the Vice-President .
I didn’t say anything. The Vice-President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don’t want to seem unkind.
My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.
“Eric’s children are also quite hungry.”
With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.
“And their grandmother can’t stand for long.”
I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the Vice-President.
“Their grandfather doesn’t like the cold.”
I wanted to shout- that was my coat! But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled. Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The Vce-President hadn’t moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face her.
“Andrew’s whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven’t planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do.”
My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The Vice=President cheerfully cut her meat, ate her steak and drank her wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small grey circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.
“By the way,” She added, “I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I’m firing you as head of your business. I’ll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There’s a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can’t come to you for jobs groveling like beggars.”
I looked up. The Vice-President dropped her spoon into the empty ramekin which had been her creme brulee. She drained the last drops of her wine. As the table was cleared, she lit a cigarette and leaned back in her chair. She stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.
What had I done wrong?
As if answering the unspoken thought, the Vice-President suddenly cocked her head, locked her empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as she folded her hands.
“You should have stopped me at the dinner roll,” she said.
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