September 30 is the last day of the federal fiscal year, making October 1 Washington’s New Years Day. Consequently, there’s a tradition of throwing New Years Eve parties on the last day of September, and since this year, that day happened to fall on a Friday, there were rather more of them to attended than usual. Cerise and I were hopping among such bashes until after two in the morning, which, in Washington DC, is considered quite a late night.
So Gretchen knew I would only be in for a half day today, but she arrived at nine and began answering the phones and voice mails. The first thing she said when I got in was, “A big, fat guy named Chris Christie called around ten. I scheduled him to call back this afternoon. I put it on your calendar. By the way, who’s Chris Christie?”
“Thanks,” I replied, “he’s the governor of New Jersey. I must confess, however, that I’m a bit puzzled. If you didn’t know that, how did you know he was big and fat?”
“If you answer phones to make consultation appointments as much as I do,” she explained, “and then get a look at who visits the office for them, you develop a sixth sense. I can tell a Korean from a Japanese just by talking to them on the phone, for instance. With fat people, their faces have all this blubber in them, and that changes the way their voices sound. And then there’s the labored breathing while they’re talking, of course. That’s a dead giveaway. So how much of a porker is this Governor Christie character, anyway?”
“Worthy of both the blue ribbons for ham and bacon at any self-respecting Pennsylvania county fair,” I assured Gretchen, alluding to her Amish upbringing.
“Er moegst kurze Gebete und lange Wuerste,” she chuckled, “he likes short prayers and long sausages.”
Tom: Good afternoon, Governor Christie.
Christie: Hello, Tom. Call me Chris, please.
Tom: Sure. Thanks. How can I help you?
Christie: It’s the 2012 presidential race, Tom. I’ve been telling folks since the very beginning that I won’t run, but lately, I’ve gotten some incredibly serious pressure to change my mind.
Tom: So I’ve heard. What prompted you to contact me?
Christie: Your reputation, I guess. Everybody says you’re the smartest person inside the Beltway.
Tom: Which is a lot like being the tallest building in Baltimore.
Christie: Baltimore? Man, do they have some great food in that city or what, huh?
Tom: No doubt about that – and not just the usual Italian, French, Chinese, Kosher, Mexican and steak house fare, either. There’s Lithuanian, Polish, German, Romanian, Russian, Swedish, Southern Soul, Indian, Guatemalan…
Christie: And the seafood! Being from Jersey, I love that seafood, you know!
Tom: And it’s very fortunate that Baltimore has so much excellent cuisine, too.
Christie: How come?
Tom: Because there’s nothing to do in Baltimore but eat.
Christie: Oh. Gee, that’s just like Trenton.
Tom: No doubt. So, what’s causing your consternation concerning your conundrum?
Christie: Well, I thought I pretty much had my mind made up not to run, but lately I’ve been receiving visits and telephone calls from extremely influential and famous Republicans, like Henry Kissinger, George Herbert Walker Bush and Nancy Reagan, every one of them urging me to get into the presidential race and beat Obama in 2012.
Tom: And obviously, when people like that plead with you to save America from the Democrats, it’s got to be hard to say no.
Christie: It’s very difficult to disappoint such illustrious people, Tom, no doubt about it. And frankly, I was on the verge of announcing my candidacy, but then, last night I was visited by the ghost of Ronald Reagan.
Tom: Ronald Reagan’s ghost? Did you… speak with him?
Christie: Yes, and he told me that I should not, under any circumstances, run for President of the United States.
Tom: Did he say why?
Christie: Because, according to him, every Republican president except Lincoln and Eisenhower went straight to Hell.
Tom: Including…
Christie: Including him; right – they’re all down there. Reagan showed them to me. In punishment for his corrupt administration and constant dipsomania, Grant is eternally drowning in a vat of cheap whiskey. Warren G. Harding is forced to make love, for all eternity, to the ghost of Susan B. Anthony. Calvin Coolidge is forced to make love, for all eternity, to the ghost of Mrs. Coolidge. Herbert Hoover is forced, for all eternity, to climb the stairs to the top of a Wall Street skyscraper and jump off with a ticker tape in his hand, you know, like that Sisyphus guy in the Greek myth. When he hits the pavement, he comes back to life and has to do it all over again, forever. And William Howard Taft…
Tom: Another Adipose American, like yourself…
Christie: Yeah, exactly, the Devil has him running laps, starving, around a huge, impenetrable glass case full of cheese cakes, and forced to eat nothing but raw alfalfa sprouts for all eternity!
Tom: I see. How about Nixon?
Christie: As punishment for her sins, Marilyn Monroe has to spend all of eternity making love to him.
Tom: My, how gruesome. What kind of rap is Reagan doing eternity for?
Christie: Reagan’s ghost said, in his case, St. Peter told him it’s because of things like Grenada, trickle-down economics, financial deregulation and saying that trees cause pollution.
Tom: What, Reagan ended up in Hell just for that?
Christie: Well, no, he went on for quite a while, actually; there’s a whole bunch of stuff. Apparently God and the Holy Spirit are not particularly upset with Reagan, but Jesus is really, really mad at him.
Tom: And what’s Reagan’s punishment?
Christie: He said he’s eternally trapped on the set of Bedtime for Bonzo III, shooting a scene where the chimp… uh… passes gas in Reagan’s face, over and over again, forever.
Tom: “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate.”
Christie: Huh?
Tom: Oh, never mind. Tell me, what did you eat before you went to bed last night?
Christie: Um… a light snack.
Tom: Consisting of?
Christie: Ah… a sandwich.
Tom: What kind of sandwich?
Christie: Uh.. a… submarine… sandwich.
Tom: With?
Christie: Cold cuts… you know, bologna, Virginia ham, pastrami…
Tom: And what else?
Christie: Er… mortadella, capacollo, roast beef, corned beef, and roast turkey breast.
Tom: And what else?
Christie: Um… some olive loaf, pepper loaf, pimento loaf, bresaola, and prosciutto.
Tom: And what else?
Christie: Uh… Genoa salami, Milanese salami, Tuscan salami, sopressata, beef tongue… and… liverwurst. But all thin slices, okay? Very thin slices!
Tom: Any cheese with that?
Christie: Just some provolone, swiss, pepper jack, cheddar and… well, I guess the blue cheese I mixed in with the mayonnaise counts, too.
Tom: Toppings?
Christie: A couple of dabs of lobster and crab salad… and three fried oysters I heated up in the microwave while I toasted the sub in the oven.
Tom: All washed down with what?
Christie: Caffeine-free Diet Coke.
Tom: Chris, I don’t think you actually saw Ronald Reagan’s ghost last night.
Christie: I didn’t?
Tom: No, I think you had a big, honking nightmare from eating that bodacious submarine sandwich. And although I’m certainly no psychoanalyst, you don’t have to be Sigmund Freud to figure out that a dream like that is a projection of your own anxieties and fears about running for President.
Christie: Gee, you think so? How can you tell?
Tom: Because a loving God would never let Satan treat Marilyn Monroe like that.
Christie: He wouldn’t?
Tom: Absolutely not. The whole thing has got to be a figment of your imagination.
Christie: Well, that’s a relief. But in that case, what does my nightmare mean?
Tom: It means that you’re worried about several things. First, you’re worried about entering the race so late. Even if you announce today, you will have less than a month to get on the ballots for the primaries. Second, you’ll have to scramble to raise the millions of dollars necessary to compete against Mitt Romney and Rick Perry. Third, you’ll have to build a national campaign organization in record time. And, fourth, what if Sarah Palin decides to announce the day after you do – what then? But most of all, I think the part of your dream where Reagan’s ghost tells you about Taft, that’s the crux of the matter. You’re afraid that if you run, your… physical condition will keep you from winning.
Christie: You mean, my…
Tom: Yes, your status as an Adipose American. In that dream, you were William Howard Taft, running and running, but only able to look at a plethora of delicious pastries, not eat them – having to eat raw alfalfa sprouts instead. That’s what you fear most – exercise and dieting. But you see, that’s what makes you exactly like the majority of Americans.
Christie: They hate exercise and dieting?
Tom: The majority of them do, yes. And note the key word there, Chris. That word is “majority,” and a majority of Americans is what you need on your side to win a national election. So after you announce your candidacy, in addition to all those other things you’re going to have to do right away, you’re going to have to immediately hold a press conference where you introduce your new personal trainer.
Christie: A personal trainer?
Tom: Yes. Be sure to have a personal trainer lined up before you announce. And to avoid any suggestions of impropriety, your personal trainer should be a male. On the other hand, in order to attract female voters, he should be really good looking, as well as in perfect shape. What’s more, he should be charismatic and test well on camera, because he’s going to get you loads of free publicity by going on talk shows telling the world what it’s like to be your personal trainer, what a great guy you are, and just as importantly, keeping everybody up to date on how much weight you’re losing.
Christie: How much… weight… I’m losing?
Tom: Right – because the saga of Chris Christie’s personal victory over flab will captivate the nation.
Christie: But won’t my personal trainer put me on a diet? Won’t he make me exercise? I thought you said that the majority of Americans hate exercise and diet!
Tom: They do – but there’s nothing they like better than watching somebody else do it. They can’t take their eyes off it, and the person that they won’t be able to stop watching will be you! The news about you won’t just have the usual campaign stories, it will have the additional, captivating narrative of your personal trainer’s crusade to turn you into the most physically fit President this country has ever had! What better way to counteract Obama’s incumbency advantage? Let him arrange photo opportunities with foreign heads of state, let him give speeches that the media are obliged to broadcast, let him cut ribbons on infrastructure and jobs projects all he wants, it won’t matter. Because the public will ignore all of that stuff and instead, they will focus on you, your campaign and the story of your victory over obesity.
Christie: I… I’m… I’m going to have to… eat alfalfa sprouts, aren’t I?
Tom: Well, maybe not alfalfa sprouts. Maybe your personal trainer will have you eat goji berries or something like that.
Christie: Berries?
Tom: Or, I don’t know, wheat germ, perhaps. Wheat germ’s kind of old-school, but some personal trainers still swear by it…
Christie: Wheat germ?
Tom: Or non-fat goat milk yogurt, or tofu, or oat bran and psyllium, or spirulina…
Christie: What’s psyllium?
Tom: It’s a vegan plant product.
Christie: What’s spirulina?
Tom: A kind of… well, it’s algae, actually.
Christie: Algae? Like in my pool?
Tom: Not exactly like that, but… well, it’s algae, no doubt about it.
Christie: Listen, Tom, I’m starting to feel like I need to… um… consider the pros and cons of all this.
Tom: Understood.
Christie: Thanks for the advice. How much do I owe you?
Tom: My policy is that initial consultations are free of charge.
Christie: Oh, that’s outstanding. So… I’ll just go make a nice hot fudge sundae with some Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby Ice Cream and think about all this some more.
Tom: Sounds like a plan. Bon appétit!
Christie: Thanks! Goodbye!