Today’s miserable outdoor conditions were more proof (as if we needed it here) that the primary difference between Hell and Washington DC in the summer is that Hell has dry heat. The mercury climbed to around one hundred this afternoon, and with the humidity, it felt like about one hundred and ten outside. Which is why I stayed inside, watching movies with Cerise on the big-screen HDTV in the basement.
It was seventy degrees down there, a temperature that, IMHO, is perfect for munching organic black kernel popcorn with grass-fed butter and a bit of Celtic Breton sea salt while quaffing a frosty artisanal oak-barreled, cave-aged Italian Alpine ice Pilsner and watching a flick. In Cerise’s opinion, OTOH, that’s a bit chilly, so she opted for a light cashmere sweater and a glass of 2007 Chateaux Margaux.
Being a guy who knows how to please women, I let Cerise pick the movies, of course. Okay, so sometimes that means watching something like The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which Cerise wanted to see because it’s about animals. Well, sort of, anyway – it turned out to be an animated story about animals that talk and wear pajamas to bed – but it was voiced fairly well by George Clooney and Meryl Streep, who are reasonably competent actors, after all. Furthermore, it turned out to be a passably amusing parody of Quentin Tarantino’s oeuvre – an unexpected and pleasant surprise, to say the least.
One nice thing about letting your girlfriend select the movies you watch at home on a rainy (or ridiculously hot) day is that you don’t really mind being interrupted all that much. Which was good, because right about the time Mr. Fox slid into recidivism and decided to risk his cushy position as a newspaper columnist by starting to steal chickens again, the basement extension of my land line telephone rang. From my caller ID, I could see it was Tom Vilsack. So I picked up, excused myself, put him on hold and went upstairs to take the call on the extension in my home office.
Tom: So, Secretary Vilsack. To what do I owe the honor of this telephone call to my home on a Saturday afternoon?
Vilsack: I’m at the end of my rope with this Shirley Sherrod thing.
Tom: Sir, I strongly recommend that, in the future, you consider contacting me before you reach the end of your rope.
Vilsack: I would, but Holy Mother of God, Collins, you’re one of the most expensive items on every GWAC in town! I can use the GSA Schedule to order a platoon of ex-Special Forces bodyguards to walk me around Sadr City all night for twenty percent less than you charge for a consultation!
Tom: You get what you pay for, Mr. Secretary.
Vilsack: I suppose you’re right, Collins. So what do you think?
Tom: About what?
Vilsack: Oh [expletive], I don’t know, the whole [expletive] thing!
Tom: You mean, what do I think about some right-wing, reactionary neo-fascist TEA Party blowhard named Andrew Breitbart taking one of your senior Agriculture Department employee’s remarks out of context and posting a video of it on his Web site? Or do you mean, what do I think about the media feeding frenzy which ensued after he did that? Or do you mean, what do I think of you demanding Ms. Sherrod’s resignation before you saw the entire speech from which Breitbart took that video clip? Or do you mean, what do I think of not only you – but the President of the United States, for Christ’s sake – having to publicly eat crow after the world found out that clip came from a pithy and insightful speech in which Ms. Sherrod was actually relating a complex, nuanced story of race relations and redemption? Or do you mean, what do I think of the fact that Ms. Sherrod wants some time to think about your offer to re-hire her as a USDA employee? Or do you mean, what do I think about a totally absurd story like this eclipsing not only the President’s final victory in breaking the Congressional log jam holding back unemployment benefits extensions for millions of Americans, but his hard-fought passage of a financial reform bill as well?
Vilsack: Is there I box I can check for “All of the Above?”
Tom: Very well, given that; then, sir, what I think is, you have proved that the Obama Administration has an excellent case for a brand new Secretary of Agriculture.
Vilsack: But I apologized! I held a press conference and I admitted that I did not think before I acted! I said I know that employment termination decisions should take time, and that I hadn’t taken any time at all! I took responsibility, didn’t I? And I said I’d have to live with what I had done for a long, long time!
Tom: “The rest of my life” would have been better, sir. “A long, long time” could be how it feels to sit through a Hillary Clinton diplomatic dinner toast.
Vilsack: Well, damn it, Collins, you know what I meant! Everybody knows what I meant! I acted without due diligence; I jumped to conclusions; I went off half cocked! And I’m sorry! Extremely sorry! Bitterly sorry! Unimaginably sorry! As a matter of fact, I am [expletive] overflowing with chagrin, mortification, contrition, regret and remorse, okay? Now tell me – why the [expletive] won’t that stubborn [expletive] [expletive] be gracious enough to accept my [expletive] job offer?
Tom: Uh, well, you’re the Secretary of Agriculture, sir, and it’s the Department of Agriculture, and Ms. Sherrod is an expert on agricultural development policy.
Vilsack: Yeah, so what?
Tom: The position you offered her is as Special Deputy Director of Outreach at the USDA Office of Advocacy.
Vilsack: And?
Tom: That’s a human resources EEO and civil rights policy position.
Vilsack: Which means?
Tom: Which means, um, as I said, sir, Ms. Sherrod is an expert on agricultural development policy, not HR, EEO or civil rights policy. Therefore, it’s entirely possible that she simply may not want the position because she’s not qualified for it.
Vilsack: [Expletive] her! Why should that [expletive] [expletive] care if she’s qualified to do her [expletive] job? Nobody else in Washington does! What the [expletive] makes her think she’s so [expletive] special, anyway?
Tom: I know it’s rather… unusual for someone in Washington to… ah… have that particular perspective, but…
Vilsack: Unusual? It’s [expletive] unheard of, that’s what it is! Look, Collins, this is serious, okay? All right, maybe I screwed the pooch, but that’s no reason for me to resign my post as Secretary of Agriculture in disgrace, is it? I mean, I was trying to do the right thing, wasn’t I? Everybody knows that USDA has had a terrible reputation for racism and it’s had that reputation for at least seventy years! I had the right motives, didn’t I? I wanted to show that now, there’s zero tolerance for racism at the Department of Agriculture, that’s all. So, okay, maybe I was… overzealous – but is it fair I should get [expletive] crucified for it?
Tom: So after seven decades of white male USDA employees ignoring, cheating and short-changing black and Hispanic farmers, you decided to come down like a ton of bricks on a black woman?
Vilsack: I had to! That is, if it had been true, I would have had to, anyway; maybe not so fast, but I would definitely have had to, for sure.
Tom: How come?
Vilsack: Because everybody knows that reverse racism is the worst kind, that’s [expletive] why!
Tom: I think perhaps you’ve been reading too many right wing Web sites, Mr. Secretary.
Vilsack: [Expletive], maybe I have! Everybody in the Obama Administration reads them, every day. It’s what we’re expected to do!
Tom: For what reasons?
Vilsack: Uh, ah… so we know what they think of us, I guess.
Tom: But why empower a bunch of bozos like that by paying so much attention to them? They’re idiots, aren’t they?
Vilsack: Uh… yeah, I suppose so…
Tom: And you’re a cabinet secretary. And Obama is President of the United States. And who’s this Andrew Breitbart clown? Why does what’s on his Web site make an ant-hill’s worth of difference to you or your boss?
Vilsack: But what about Glenn Beck? What about Rush Limbaugh? What about Bill O’Reilly and Ann Coulter and Michelle Malkin? What about what they will say?
Tom: At the risk of repeating myself, Mr. Secretary, you’re the head of a powerful government agency, and your colleague, Barack Obama, is President of the United States, and compared to you, those people are nothing but impotent, insignificant pipsqueaks; mere nattering nabobs of negativism. They’re going to yell and scream like toddlers in a tantrum no matter what you do. If Barack Obama turned two fishes and five loaves into a feast for a starving multitude, those morons would complain about him violating the separation of church and state.
Vilsack: But what about… Fox News?
Tom: Nobody who watches Fox News would support the Obama Administration in a fight against an invasion from outer space, Mr. Secretary. Worrying about what those people think of you is like worrying about what Kim Jong Il thinks of Lady Gaga.
Vilsack: All right, I understand. You’re saying we got ourselves into this by letting our opponents define and validate us.
Tom: That, and the fact that your opponents are a gaggle of babbling half-wits whom you were foolish enough to take seriously; combined with a massive display of misjudgment wherein you decided to pay the least scintilla of attention to them in the first place.
Vilsack: Okay, then, say that’s correct; fine. But how do I keep my job as Secretary of Agriculture? At the moment, there’s such a hue and cry for my head, I feel like King Louis XVI.
Tom: I would advise you play for sympathy.
Vilsack: Oh, you mean, remind everyone that I was abandoned by my real parents and then adopted from a Catholic orphanage?
Tom: No, I was thinking you could remind everyone that you were once governor of Iowa.
Vilsack: I don’t understand. Are you saying that millions of people are going to feel sorry for me if they find out that I used to be the governor of Iowa?
Tom: Sir, practically everybody in America will feel a sincere and deep twinge of sympathy for you if you merely remind them that you even had to live there once.
Vilsack: Everybody? Really? You mean, even the ones in Nebraska, Kansas and the Dakotas?
Tom: Yes; even the ones in Mississippi, sir.
Vilsack: Mississippi?
Tom: Yep.
Vilsack: New Jersey?
Tom: Even them.
Vilsack: You know, Collins, if what you say is true, then doing so promises to be an extremely humiliating experience. I… I just don’t know if I could put myself through something like that, even if enduring it meant I could keep my job as Secretary of Agriculture.
Tom: I understand, sir. Look at it this way – it’s Saturday afternoon. I suggest you sleep on it until Monday morning.
Vilsack: Yeah, I think you’re right. I will. Uh… Collins…
Tom: Yes?
Vilsack: Am I actually as bad as this [expletive] mess makes me look? I mean, I’m not really the most impulsive, undisciplined, unprofessional, tactless, inept, ham-handed, impolitic and stupid jackass of a cabinet secretary that the city of Washington has ever seen, am I?
Tom: Of course not, Mr. Secretary. James G. Watt holds that distinction, and rest assured, sir, you are no James G. Watt.