(Being a transcript of an Oval Office meeting in regard to the vacant position of secretary of homeland security, the president and Alberto Gonzales, White House counsel, being present.)
"Alberto, we need a new one."
"Yes, sir. A new what, sir?"
"I'll get to that, but first, would you please go into the Lincoln Bedroom, spray yourself with whipped cream, and sing ‘Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean'?"
"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."
"No, check that. Instead, dress up like the Christmas goose and dance around Lafayette Park blowing a slide whistle and reading the first letter to the Romans."
"Right away, sir."
"God, I love this job. Wait, though, we still need a new one."
"Yes, sir. A new what, sir?"
"We need a new homeland-security chief."
"A homeland-security chief, chief? I thought we had a homeland-security czar, sir.”
"No, the election's over. We don't need a czar anymore. All we need is a chief."
"Sir, if I may: What's the difference, sir?”
"Well, in the first place, a czar outranks a chief in every Rolodex in town. Make a guy a czar -- energy Czar, drug Czar -- and Chris Matthews is jimmying open the windows to the guy's house. Nobody loves czars more than cable-TV hosts. They love them more than the Cossacks did."
"Chris Matthews is a Cossack, sir?”
"No, he only shouts like one."
"Yes, sir."
"Say that again."
"Yes, sir."
"And if I ask you to shinny to the top of the Capitol dome and whistle birdcalls?"
"Yes, sir."
"Damn, this is better than running the Rangers was."
"Yes, sir."
"So a czar gets us through the election, but we don't need one here in the second term. I don't really think we need chiefs, either, because we have, after all, me."
"Yes, sir."
"Lasso a moving train between here and Baltimore?"
"Yes, sir."
"But they all say we have to have somebody in that job."
"Yes, sir. As you know, that Kerik fellow turned out to be something of a problem. There was that Mob-connected business, and the first mistress, and that stuff with the Iraqi police, and the second mistress. Mistakes were made there in the vetting process. We probably shouldn't have missed the second mistress, anyway. Damned if I know where the “Second Mistress File” went. Last we knew, Newt Gingrich signed it out."
“No matter. Scottie McLellan told the country we've moved on from that episode. Did you see him?"
"Yes, sir. He did well."
"You bet, especially considering I'd asked him to swim the Potomac in an evening gown an hour before the press briefing."
"I wondered why his lips were blue."
"So what have you got for me, compadre?"
"Well, sir, we're only halfway through the vetting process on this one, but, so far, we haven't found any mistresses or any Mob-connected businesses."
"That's good."
"He has a bunch of kids, and he's devoutly religious. He's independently wealthy, so the salary's not an issue. Plus, his family knows your family."
"That's always a plus. I like a good family man, and it'll be nice to work with someone who knows the folks. Makes the holiday parties easier. What are his professional qualifications?"
"He worked with us in the 1970s and the 1980s, and some of the folks at the CIA were real high on him. Since then, he's sort of branched out into private covert stuff. Independent contracting, as it were."
"Mercenary stuff?”
"Not really, sir. More like a kind of multinational operation, although he will, on occasion, hire them."
"Sounds promising. Is he good at what he does?"
"He's achieved some results, sir. And, more important, he doesn't owe Rudy Giuliani any favors. Word is, they don't like each other very much."
"That's good. I'm tired of that guy. Put his feet up on my desk, last time he was over, and told me that he'd ordered us to Def Con 4 by accident. Almost lost Finland there."
"Tragedy averted, sir."
"You bet. I like Finland, and whatever they call the people there."
"Well, this guy doesn't owe anybody anything. He's his own man, his own boss. Insists on that, sir."
"Even though he comes from money? I like that. That's they way I did it. Whenever one of the companies was in trouble, I didn't staff out the call to Dad's lawyers. Made those calls myself. Learned to take responsibility for covering up my own mistakes. Got a picture of this guy?"
"Right here, sir."
"Hmm. Strange looking duck, isn't he? Damned if he doesn't look familiar."
"Yes, sir. A lot of people around here had the same reaction. He looks like somebody we know, but we can't put our fingers on it. Richard Perle said he thought it was Saddam Hussein, and we all got a big laugh out of that."
"It's right on the tip of my tongue. Did this guy run in Iowa back in 2000? There were a lot of them back then."
"Don't think so, sir. Lamar Alexander was shorter."
"That scraggly beard and the white turban. Must be a photo from his undercover days."
"Could be, sir."
"I like the eyes, though. You can see his soul in there. Wish to God I could remember where I saw him, though. Can we get him in for an interview?"
"There's a bit of a snag there, sir. His address keeps changing, and it seems his name is on some watch list or another. We're trying to straighten it out."
"See? That's the problem right there. If we had this guy in charge, people like him could get into the country easier."
"No doubt, sir."
'I think we've found our man, amigo. Not only that, we seem to have fixed the holes in our vetting process. Good work."
"Thank you, sir."
"And you know that memo about bungee jumping off the Jefferson Memorial?"
"Yes, sir."
"You can leave that until after the holidays. Gives you time to buy the face paint."
"Merry Christmas, sir."
"Fleece Navidad to you, old friend."
Charles P. Pierce is a staff writer for The Boston Globe Magazine and a contributing writer for Esquire. He also appears regularly on National Public Radio.
