The City Zen restaurant is located in the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, on Maryland Avenue here in Washington. This means, of course, that the hotel guests come there to dine, and so it was that last night, as Cerise and I were enjoying our desserts of raspberry pavolova and tarte tatin, respectively, prior to departing for an evening at the Kennedy Center, we were joined – or perhaps I should say accosted – by Austin, a wealthy native born Texan and highly vocal proponent of the Lone Star State.
“Well now,” he boomed as he approached our table, “throw my buck-naked [expletive] in a cactus patch if it ain’t Tom Collins! And who, may I ask, is this lovely lady?”
“This is Cerise,” I dryly responded, being careful not to mention her last name, thus avoiding what I knew would be one of his inevitable and unwelcome late night amorous telephone calls, of which my private secretary Gretchen has often bitterly complained, “Cerise, this is Austin, one of my clients.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Austin,” Cerise smiled coyly, extending her hand as he rather presumptuously seated himself next to her, at which she graciously justified his questionable action by asking, “Won’t you join us?”
“My pleasure, too,” Austin drawled. “Tom, where have you been hiding this bodacious fox all this time?”
“Cerise has no connection with my consulting practice,” I explained, “she’s my Significant Other.”
“Oh,” Austin replied with an impish grin, “is that what you… intellectuals up here in Washington DC call your… paramours?”
“No,” I corrected, “I would not call her that.”
“And why not?” Austin pressed.
“Because, I am unmarried, and so is she. You, on the other hand…”
“No need to get technical over the dinner table,” he quickly interjected.
“Certainly not,” I agreed, as I clearly signaled for a change of subject. “What brings you to the Nation’s Capital this time?”
“Just makin’ sure that Ted Cruz does what he’s supposed to do next week,” he declared. “That Cuban greaser dago sure does love to hear himself talk, don’t he? Well, I’m here, you see, to make damn sure the people of Texas hear him talk for about twenty-four hours straight, fightin’ that [expletive] Obamacare!”
“You mean,” Cerise inquired, “you want him to filibuster Senate revisions of the current House Continuing Resolution intended to re-include funding of the Affordable Health Care for America Act of 2010?”
“Hmmm,” Austin reflected, “mighty clever woman you got there. But I’d figure you’d like a nice smart one, so’s you don’t get bored – am I right?”
“You’re right about her high degree of intelligence, anyway,” I allowed.
“Yep, little lady,” Austin condescended, “that’s exactly what I want to happen. I’m gonna hold those Republican senators’ feet to the fire and make them tell the news about how Obamacare’s gonna kill American jobs, kill the American economy and kill Americans outright if Congress doesn’t do something to stop it!”
“Sounds… very challenging,” Cerise sighed with an ever so slight roll of her eyes that Austin could – and did – easily fail to notice.
“Nothin’ any good Texan – a white one, anyway – couldn’t handle,” he assured her. “But Tom, as long as I got you here, there was somethin’ else I was meaning to talk to you about. It’s this Socialist persecution of Sheriff Mark Kessler. You know about that, I suppose?”
“You’re referring,” I presumed, “to the police chief of Gilberton, Pennsylvania?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “that’s the patriot I’m talkin’ about. The government came after him for nothin’ more than exercising his God-given Constitutional rights under the First and Second Amendments.”
“You say,” Cerise sought verify, “that this person is a police chief?”
“That’s correct,” Austin confirmed.
“In that case,” Cerise wondered, “doesn’t that make him part of the government?”
“Part of the… whatcha call it… um… municipal government,” Austin admitted, “yeah, but what I’m talkin’ about is how the federal government and the UN went after him and…”
“Actually,” I pointed out, “neither the federal government or the United Nations has done anything to him. All his problems, – so far, at any rate – have been with that very municipal government to which you just referred.”
“And precisely what,” Cerise asked, “did this… well, I guess he must be a small town police chief, given that I’ve never heard of Gilberton, Pennsylvania… what did this rural… is he rural, Tom?”
“Pretty much,” I confirmed. “Gilberton is a borough of Schuylkill County, located on US 81 between Scranton and Harrisburg, with a resident population of less than eight hundred people.”
“Sounds like the boondocks to me,” Cerise opined. “So what did this latter-day Yankee Andy of Mayberry do to… distinguish himself?”
“He made videos of himself shooting automatic weapons,” I related, “and posted them on the Internet.”
“There are thousands, if not millions of those, aren’t there?” Cerise remarked. “Why would anyone even notice, much less care if some bumpkin cop put a few of them up?”
“It wasn’t so much the weaponry,” I explained, “as what he said and did while he was shooting it off. Kessler accompanied his automatic firearms demonstrations with profanity-laced rants about ‘libtards,’ which is what he calls liberals, and used pictures of people like Nancy Pelosi for targets. He also suggested that liberals are not only unpatriotic, but sodomites as well.”
“Obviously,” Cerise commented, “this Kessler guy is just another confused, frightened lower-class white male – the kind whom the ultra-conservative big money behind the Tea Party typically manipulates to do their dirty work. He’s pathetic, all right, but doesn’t he have the same constitutional rights under the First Amendment as say, a fundamentalist Moslem or a member of the Black Panthers? As long as he doesn’t advocate the violent overthrow of the federal government…”
“Ah, but he did,” I interjected. “Despite that, however, Mary Lou Hannon, the mayor of Gilberton, defended his statements and actions as free speech and maintained that his message was being misinterpreted.”
“That’s very open-mined for a small town mayor,” Cerise assessed. “But I’m sure it’s not like this Gilberton is another Takoma Park, is it? Nevertheless, I’d say such an attitude could be described as – dare I say it – liberal.”
“Hold on there now,” Austin bellowed. “It’s dollars to donuts that there Mayor Hannon ain’t no liberal!”
“Be that as it may,” Cerise continued, “what happened to Kessler?”
“After release of the first video, the Gilberton Borough Council gave Kessler a thirty day suspension,” I told her, “for misuse of borough property.”
“Which was a lot of bull [expletive],” Austin insisted, “because Kessler bought those guns with his own money and donated ‘em to the borough!”
“But at the time he made the video,” Cerise pointed out, “the weapons were borough property, though, weren’t they?”
“Yeah, sure,” Austin conceded.
“And I’ll bet,” Cerise guessed, “that the reason he gave them to the borough was so he could legally convert them to full automatic fire, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe,” Austin grumbled, “but don’t see no reason a feller cain’t have as many machine guns as he wants. The Second Amendment don’t say ‘no machine guns,’ now does it?”
“What it says,” Cerise recited “is, ‘A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.’ Today the ‘well regulated militia’ is the National Guard. So, let the National Guard have machine guns – and grenades and tanks and field artillery if they want, too, but why would my next door neighbor need a fully automatic AK-47?”
“I donno,” Austin shrugged. “Huntin’ deer, maybe? Huntin’ bears, huntin’ coyotes, something like that?”
“What kind of idiot,” Cerise challenged, “hunts game or varmints with a machine gun?”
“Speaking of the Constitution, no doubt Kessler’s penalty would have been less severe,” I speculated, “if about one hundred of his friends and supporters, representing themselves as the ‘Constitution Security Force,’ and armed with AR-15 assault rifles…”
“Legally armed,” Austin countered, “with semi-automatic AR-15’s!”
“Yes,” I agreed, “if about one hundred CSF members, legally armed with about one hundred of the most powerful long rifle weapons attainable, had not surrounded Gilberton City Hall during Kessler’s disciplinary hearing.”
“Okay,” Cerise sighed, “fair enough – he got a thirty day suspension. Then what happened?”
“First of all,” I related, “Kessler failed to show up for the review hearing at the end of his thirty day suspension. Therefore, the Borough Council suspended him indefinitely.”
“His attorney had a schedule conflict!” Austin protested. “What was he supposed to do – show up in that kangaroo court with no lawyer?”
“Then what?” Cerise prodded.
“Then he made more gun videos,” I answered. “With more automatic weapons fire, more profanity and more questionable statements about federal officials. He called the Secretary of State a traitor and a piece of human excrement. He called a local television news reporter a ‘communist’ and suggested the reporter practices oral sex on other men, as does, Kessler claims, everyone at the United Nations. He stated that liberals enjoy inserting various objects into their rectums. He stated that he would like to climb into a tree an shoot liberals like a sniper. He stated that the Founding Fathers would have shot liberals, just as he wants to. He claimed that the Department of Homeland Security has stockpiled enough weapons and ammunition to wage a thirty year ground war against American patriots such as himself and the CSF. He said, quote, ‘Democrats are the most vile creatures in this country. They are vile. They are evil, evil un-American. I don’t even want to call them people because that’s being too kind. They’re scum. They go against your country. They hate their country.’ He…”
“Free speech!” Austin yelped. “First Amendment! So what if Kessler shot his mouth off and used some colorful language? He’s a red-blooded white American man and proud of his heritage, that’s all!”
“He has the right to say what he wants,” I agreed, “but not the right to be a police officer. And that’s the distinction which got him fired for good – not for what he believes, not for his politics, and not for his profanity or his intricate conspiracy theories. The company which insures Gilberton against liability notified the borough government that if Kessler remained on the police force, they would have to cancel Gilberton’s policy.”
“Pure tyranny!” Austin raged. “That’s all it is – tyranny!”
“Let’s see here,” Cerise hypothesized, “could it be the insurance company was concerned that now, if Kessler shot somebody, regardless of what the outcome of any criminal proceedings might be, there could also be a wrongful death suit brought in civil court? Because in civil proceedings, the standard is a preponderance of evidence, not certainty beyond reasonable doubt, and if the civil plaintiffs’ lawyer could get Kessler’s videos introduced into evidence, the little town of Gilberton might be liable for some very big bucks. What do you think, Tom? If Kessler shot somebody, wouldn’t there be shysters lined up around the block trying to get in on one third of what’s obviously going to be a huge slam-dunk settlement?”
“I think I’m not a lawyer,” I advised.
“But you don’t have to be one,” Austin argued,”to see that now that Gilberton gone and done what they did, and gave that there horse [expletive] reason for it, this poor Kessler feller ain’t gonna be able to work in law enforcement nowhere, no-how, no way!”
“Perhaps he could work in private security instead,” I suggested.
“Are you kidding?” Cerise gasped. “What corporation would hire somebody like that, even as a low-level security guard? Wouldn’t their company be just as liable as Gilberton if Kessler shot somebody?”
“What’s all this talk about Kessler shootin’ people, anyway?” Austin demanded. “The only person Kessler ever shot was himself!”
“What?” Cerise’s jaw dropped slightly.
“He accidentally shot himself in the hand,” I elaborated, “during a fight about the outcome of a professional wrestling match that was being televised at a bar.”
“This guy’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?” Cerise mused as our waiter collected the dessert plates and handed me the check. “Tom, can you think of anybody who would hire a person like that to tote a gun around?”
“Well,” I pondered, “I wonder if Austin has approached his friends the Koch brothers about finding an armed security position for Chief Kessler?”
“Huh,” Austin sheepishly murmured, “funny thing you mentioned that. I did, but they said even though Kessler’s a great patriot and all, their lawyers said their insurance company wouldn’t sign off on it, either, and if they wanted to hire Kessler to guard something they’d have to self-insure for it – and it’s just too damn expensive, they said. And that’s the problem, see? If Kessler cain’t be a cop or a security guard no more, what’s he gonna do?”
“He seems to like yammering right-wing nonsense,” I noted. “You think you could talk to your buddy Roger Ailes at Fox about giving Kessler his own talk show?”
“I did that, too,” Austin declared despondently with a fatalistic shrug, “but Fox says Kessler is too low class and stupid, even for them.”
“Too low class and stupid for Fox?” Cerise repeated thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, I guess he might as well run for Congress.”
Austin’s eyes lit up. “Against a some liberal Democrat?”
“No, not really,” Cerise replied. “The Republicans already control the House, and there’s no way Kessler could run for Senate – there are only two Senate seats per state, and the contests are state-wide. Furthermore, Kessler could only be elected in an extremely conservative Republican-controlled congressional district.”
“You’re sayin’” Austin squinted at her quizzically, “that Kessler should run for a House seat where we Republicans already have somebody in there?”
“Sure she is,” I vouched. “And I’ll tell you why – what you conservatives need isn’t more House seats, what you need is more Republican House seats that are occupied by Tea Party sympathizers like Kessler.”
“Oh,” Austin grinned like the Cheshire Cat, “I get it. Y’all are sayin’ that we got to find some RINO in a guaranteed Republican district and back Kessler to defeat him in the primary!”
“Exactly,” I confirmed, as the waiter returned with my American Express card. “After all, if Kessler stays unemployed for too long, God knows what he might do.”