Orban’s Tooth-and-Nail Hungarian Goulash Recipe

Yesterday was another twelve-hour Saturday, which, given the state of the nation, and, indeed, the world lately, I suppose shouldn’t have surprised me.  Not that I’m complaining about working six days a week instead of five, no way – make hay while the sun shines, I say.  Around nine o’clock, I received a visit from Colonel Szoposkurva Faszkalap, the new Deputy Special Representative for International Policy at the Hungarian Embassy here in Washington.  His stated purpose was determination of an appropriate strategy to present his nation’s new constitution – and a few interesting new laws  and actions taken by Viktor Orban, Hungary’s Prime Minister – to the Powers That Be here in the United States.
“Thank you, Mr. Collins,” he opened as he made himself comfortable in the chair immediately in front of my desk, “for meeting with me in the midst of one of your famous Washington snow storms.”
“Yes, it takes amazingly little snow to paralyze Washington,” I acknowledged, “As a rule of thumb, though, anything less than three inches usually fails to cause a general panic.”
“In Hungary,” Fazkalap haughtily sniffed, “we laugh at a meter of snow.”
“In Washington,” I noted, “not only do we have lots of Americans from states like Florida, where it hardly ever snows, but also many large communities of people from tropical countries.  When you have that big a percentage of the population who don’t know how to turn their automobiles into the skid  – instead of wildly trying to steer out of it – the whole situation is a recipe for disaster.  But believe me, Americans from places like New England and Minnesota disdain Washingtonians’ snow storm behavior as much or more than anyone from Europe, including the Scandinavians.” 
“As well they should,” he huffed.  “On the way over here, some idiot driving a Mercedes Benz with diplomatic plates lost control of his vehicle right in front of my limousine.  He nearly hit us!”
“Did you catch the plate number?” I inquired.
“Not all of it,” he grumbled.  “I did see that the number started with the letters ‘JQ,’ however.”
“Ah yes,” I nodded.  “That’s the country code for the Republic of Togo.  A perfect example – their capital city, Lomé, is located less than seven degrees north of the equator.  Not a lot of opportunity to practice snow driving there, I’d say.”
“Those people shouldn’t be allowed to drive,” Faszkalap groused, “at least not during snow storms.”
“Well,” I allowed, “your sentiments are understandable.  But the District of Columbia has no authority to restrict foreign diplomats from operating motor vehicles.  Instead, we locals just keep an eye out for diplomatic plates and when we see them, we run like hell in the other direction.  No offense,” I added as I noted Faszkalap glaring at me.  “Present company excepted, of course.  So, what can I do for the great nation of Hungary today?”
“You can give me some ideas about how to get the Americans on my government’s side,” he replied.
“You mean,” I surmised, “you’d like to have the United States back Prime Minister Orban in his current spat with the European Union?”
“Why should Greece, as you Americans say, get the gold mine,” he fumed, “while Hungary gets the shaft?  Is it fair, do you think, for the European Central Bank to give the Greeks a bailout, while now, the EU and the IMF are prescribing nothing but austerity and hardship for the Hungarians?  The Hungarian people have no intention of allowing their nation to become a post-modern colony of Brussels!”
“The first thing I would advise,” I gently admonished, “is not to try that sort of rhetoric with Hillary Clinton’s State Department.  On the other hand, it would work just fine if you used it on suitably sympathetic members of Congress.”
“Congress?” Faszkalap repeated as his eyebrows raised an appropriately discreet increment.
“Yes,” I confirmed, “Congress.  While the present Administration is unlikely to find any significant… congruence… with Prime Minister Orban’s… ahem… world view, he will find a large number of senators and representatives whom, I assure you, would regard him as a kindred spirit.”
“What makes you say that?” Faszkalap dryly demanded.
“Well,” I explained, “first of all, Hungary is defying the centralized power of the European Union.  That’s analogous to the issue of states’ rights, which is dear to the hearts of nearly every congressman from Dixie.”
“Dixie?” Faszkalap murmured.
“A colloquial American term for the southern states which formed the Confederacy that rebelled against the centralized power of our own federal government,” I clarified.  “Since their revolt was a failure, they have spent the last century and a half picking fights with Washington over various issues, each time asserting that either their state, or states in general, have certain rights which the federal government seeks to usurp, or, conversely, that the federal government lacks the necessary jurisdiction to interfere with something that one or more states are doing.”
“I see,” Faszkalap stated flatly.  “And whom, in your Congress, should I seek out, then?”
“In the House of Representatives,” I recommended, “there’s the Majority Leader, Eric Cantor, who represents the seventh district of Virginia, which is where the Confederacy had its capital, Richmond.  Then there’s the Republican Conference Chairman, a fellow named Jeb Hensarling, who represents the fifth district of Texas.  Texans are very big on states’ rights because before it became a state, Texas was an independent country.  As a matter of fact, Rick Perry, the current Texas governor, has suggested that due to the special circumstances under which Texas entered the Union, it can leave anytime it wants.”
“Interesting,” Faszkalap mused.  “Perhaps I should meet with this governor Rick Perry in order to get some… how do you Americans put it?  Some… pointers on how Hungary can… as you say, ‘rattle the saber’ concerning the issue of our own secession from the European Union.”
“You might as well,” I observed.  “He’s not very busy right now and would probably appreciate some company.  Then there’s Representative Tom Price, the Republican Policy Committee Chairman, who represents the sixth district of Georgia.  Over in the Senate, there’s the Minority Leader, Mitch McConnell who’s from Kentucky, which, while not actually a member of the Confederacy, was a fellow traveler, like Maryland, where most of the population favored the rebels.  Similarly, Senator Jon Kyl, the Assistant Minority Leader, hails from Arizona, which, at the time of the Civil War, was a western territory that was supposed to become a Confederate state after the South won – which, of course, it didn’t.  Now Lamar Alexander, he’s the Republican Conference Chairman, and he’s from Tennessee, which was definitely in the Confederacy.  And then there’s Jim Demint, who’s a senator from South Carolina, the state that founded the Confederacy.  He’s nothing special in the Senate, but he’s a nationally known windbag… ah, spokesman, for racist… um… conservative causes, many of which involve states’ rights issues.  Start talking states’ rights with those guys and I’m sure you’ll become an expert on thumbing your nose at central federalized government in a matter of days.”
“Very good,” Faszkalap muttered as he finished writing in his notebook.  “But perhaps I am not spelling these names correctly.  Could you send me a list?”
“Sure,” I smiled, “and I’ll include their personal contact numbers, too.”
“And you are sure,” he worried, “that I will not just receive… ah… what do you say… the ‘brush off’ from these gentlemen?”
“When you make initial contact,” I advised, “make certain they understand that Hungary is doing to Brussels what they like doing to Washington every chance they get.  And then move on to mention how Prime Minister Orban has re-written the Hungarian Constitution to say that Hungary is a Christian nation, under the authority of God, that marriage is defined only as the legal union between a biological man and a biological woman, that human life is legally defined as beginning at the moment of conception, and that such legally defined humans have complete legal rights from that very moment.”
“And why,” Faszkalap asked tartly, “should I make sure to tell them about that?”
“Because,” I emphasized, “every single one of those guys wants to amend the United States Constitution to say those very same things.  They’ll be fascinated with the fact that Orban managed to do it, and thereafter listen to anything you have to say with rapt attention.”
“You are certain?” Faszkalap skeptically sought to confirm.
“Positive,” I assured him.  “Make sure they know that Orban shut down the opposition liberal media and that the Hungarian Civil Liberties Union is having a fit about it.  Tell them that Orban fired over two hundred judges who rendered decisions he doesn’t like.  Give them the lowdown on how Orban’s new laws allow the government to monitor information technology and keep controversial ideas under control.  Let them know he wants to shut down the Hungarian central bank.  And don’t forget to mention that the Hungarian leftists and intellectuals are going absolutely nuts about all this.  They’ll love that.”
“You really think so?” Faszkalap wondered.
“Absolutely!  Tell them that Orban achieved electoral victory over an incumbent Socialist regime running on a conservative populist platform with strong nationalist and religious planks.  That’s precisely what every single one of those fellows wants to do this very year!”
“What do you mean,” he exclaimed, “when you say your government is Socialist?”
“Ah, no,” I corrected, “it’s not, really.  It’s generally right-wing, overall, but the Republicans are constantly proclaiming to anyone who will listen that President Obama is a Socialist.  So, in their minds, those Republican senators and congressmen whom I recommended to you are all fighting tooth and nail to defeat a Socialist dictator.”
“Fighting ‘tooth and nail?’” Faszkalap remarked.  “What does that mean?”
“Tooth and nail fighting,” I related, “is an American form of fisticuffs invented on the frontier in the late eighteenth century, in which biting and gouging with fingernails are allowed.  The mark, as it were, of a great tooth-and-nail fighter was the ability to leave permanent bite scars on their opponents’ faces, and to have fingernails so long and strong that they could gouge out their opponents’ eyes.  A typical match began with a braggadocio phase, where the opponents would trade insults in front of the audience.  Then a gesticulatory phase ensued, where the contestants signified their prowess by striking poses for the crowd while describing in detail what they were going to do to their opponent.  This then culminated in a tooth-and-nail fight, which was considered to be at its best when one of the fighters ‘pulled on his opponent’s eye strings and made him tell the news,’ which is to say, scream horribly as a sharpened fingernail popped out his eyeball.  It was generally considered good form for the victor to throw the eyeball to the floor and stomp on it, then decorate the result with a generous dollop of tobacco spit.”
“My God,” Faszkalap, “I had heard some Europeans – the French for instance – say that Americans are extraordinarily barbaric, but what you have just told me is completely beyond the pale.  I assume you Americans don’t fight like that anymore, do you?”
“Well,” I averred, “what happened was, it evolved into professional wrestling.”
“In that case,” Faszkalap informed me, “this American professional wrestling is something I will definitely make sure to see, just as soon as I have concluded my visits to these Republican members of Congress.”
“And when you do,” I suggested as he rose to shake my hand, “make sure to ask them for some pointers on how to best appreciate it.”