Civics Lesson

(From the "Seems-Simple-Enough- But-Gets-Awfully-Smelly- If-You-Think-About-It" Department)

Scene 1: The Encounter. May 10. Department of Justice (DoJ) knocks on the door of the office of National Security Agency (NSA)

NSA: [from behind door] Yes?

DoJ: It's Justice.

NSA: Come in. [DoJ opens door.] Have a seat. [DoJ steps in hesitantly, then steps forward, stumbling over a table near the door. More bumbling, stumbling.] Oh, right. I forgot. You're blind. [Remains seated.]

DoJ: I'll just stand.

NSA: Suit yourself.

DoJ: Hi. I'm here to investigate the warrantless wiretap program to see if it was conducted legally and within the limits imposed by the Fourth Amendment of our Constitution.

NSA: No.

DoJ: No? But I'm Justice!

NSA: Do you know the ultra-double-super-dooper secret code word?

DoJ: No.

NSA: Do you know any code words?

DoJ: No.

NSA: Ah. Then I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of this office, myself, or this conversation.

DoJ: Huh. [Beat.] Okay. [Beat. Looks expectantly to NSA to continue the thought or something.] Right. Well, I want to ask you about the program —

NSA: Good day.

DoJ: I'm sorry.

NSA: I said, "Good day."

DoJ: So, that's it? You're not going to let me ask you any questions about —

NSA: Good day.

DoJ: Ok, wait. You said something about a code word, right?

NSA: I can't confirm or deny I said any such thing.

DoJ: I know you did! It just happened! [NSA stares.] If I got one of these code word thingies, would you be able to talk to me then?

NSA: [A beat. Then...] Perhaps.

DoJ: Hot dog! Now we're getting somewhere. Now, where might I be able to get one of those code words?

NSA: I might have some here in my desk. Or I might not. I'm not confirming or denying the existence of this desk, by the way.

DoJ: I know.

NSA: Just so we're clear.

DoJ: So, how can I get a code word?

NSA: Have you tried asking?

DoJ: [Jackpot. Broad smile.] Hi. I would like to request a code word.

NSA: [Considers briefly.] No.

DoJ: What?!? Why not?

NSA: Good day.

DoJ: Wait! Why can't I have a code word?

NSA: I'm sorry. That's classified.

DoJ: Pretty please?

NSA: Good day.

DoJ: Er... okay. Good day.

NSA: Good day.

DoJ: [swivelling head about] Do you think you could tell me where the door is? I got a bit turned around when I came in here.

NSA: I'm sorry. That's classified.

[DoJ turns to leave, stumbles on approximately the same route in reverse to exit. Lights fade on the shin-busting hilarity. ]

Scene 2: The Press Conference. May 11. DoJ and Mainstream Media (MSM) are sitting at a table at an outdoor cafe. DoJ is lovingly feeding bits of cake to MSM, which MSM eats seductively. They coo.

DoJ: ...and then the jerk wouldn't even help me to the door! The nerve!

MSM: I'm sorry, baby. And he wouldn't tell you why you were being denied?

DoJ: As I stated, he wouldn't even tell me where the door was!

MSM: Huh. I feel like I should be asking more questions, but I'm just held in awe of your courage in this plight.

DoJ: Yeah. It's hard work.

MSM:
Want a couple of softballs today?

DoJ: Mmmm, that sounds lovely.

Scene 3: The Argument. May 16. Split stage. Pentagon (DoD) and Office of Personnel Managment (OPM) sit opposite each other at their respective desks, on their respective phones. A gulf of darkness separates them.

OPM: Dammit! You said yourself that you'd throw some extra my way if I took care of your clearance problems.

DoD: And?

OPM: And!? You signed a contract, for the love of George! You owe me!

DoD: You ungrateful whelp! I oughta come over there and box your ears.

OPM: Look, it's very simple. You need to get these new employees their clearances. You asked me to handle the checks for them. You agreed, in return, to pay a fee for this service. It's pay-to-play around here, buster. You don't pony up, I'll just come over there and take the money myself.

DoD: You and what army? [Finds himself funny.]

OPM: Fine. That's the way you want it? I'm cutting you off. No more clearances.

DoD: [Scoffs.] You can't do that. You'd be helping the terrorists. The folks we've hired for these positions need the clearances to see the untranslated documents and whatnot.

OPM: Seems to me we're at an impasse.

DoD: Why do you hate America?

OPM: Uh-uh. That ain't working on me, buster. 'O, but why would you want to defraud your own government?'

DoD: You pansy-ass punk!

[Great crash of thunder. OPM and DoD look skyward to see The Government Accountability Office (Ineptus Ex Machina, IEM) descending upon a chariot from Heaven. Much hubbub until Ineptus Ex Machina alights from the cart to the stage.]

IEM: [Grandly.] I have seen your squabble. I have come for judgement. I shall arbitrate. [Regards both parties.] I will now hear the grievances. You first.

OPM: This jackass won't pay—

IEM: ENOUGH! And you?

DoD: We need the clearances—

IEM: IT IS FINISHED! [Thundercrash.] I shall deliver judgement. [Blackout.]

Scene 4: The Runkus. April 9. The Nefarioso and The Decider are on comfy chairs The Decider is looking around. The Nefarioso stares straight ahead. Neither is well-lit. A Random Person brings in two mugs and a pitcher and sets them on a table next to the Nefarioso, then leaves.

DECIDER: Slooben booble runkus ipar frandle doodle. [Points at the sky.] Grell?

NEFARIOSO: Yes. [Pours pitch black, bubbling liquid into mugs, hands one to The Decider.] Drink up.

DECIDER: Lopo ignit frenk rimpant dee frontus evil-doers! Chump chump chump dronk reeble. [Drinks.] Are you sure this is good for me?

NEFARIOSO: Yes.

DECIDER: Poot rentle jiggle ret, wert er glup nuke evil-doers!

NEFARIOSO: Yes. And when she asks about investigating the spying,... you're going to say...

DECIDER: [blinks] Nuke!

NEFARIOSO: [Smacks The Decider in the face.] Dammit! Repeat after me...

Scene 5: The Decision. June 31. IEM, OPM and DoD exactly as before.

[Time passes while IEM looks at DoD, then at OPM, then stares off into space. Rinse and repeat. Finally...]

DoD: Ahem.

IEM: What?

DoD: Well? What's the decision?

IEM: I'm writing the report.

Scene 6: The Lesson. May 18. The Decider in the comfy chair. MSM at his feet, head resting on his knee. The Nefarioso is around somewhere, in the dark.

DECIDER: You suck.

MSM: You suck. [Beat.] Will you please answer me? I think I deserve to know.

DECIDER: Umtum opal krizzle tug jooboo lomp tromp. Tromp!

MSM: You've ceased making sense to me. What about the way NSA treated DoJ? Are you just going to let him get away with that?

[Somewhere, The Nefarioso clears his throat. MSM ignores it.]

DECIDER: [well-rehearsed] It's a turf battle, plain and simple. These are two grown men with a difference of opinion, and here in the Republican Party, we tolerate all the opinions we can find. We've got a tent here as big as the sky in Texas. I'm not going to swoop down from on high and command these fellas to reach a decision one way or the other. The GAO's working on the answer, and whatever they decide, we'll implement.

MSM: [sheepish] But... I thought you were the decider.

[Somewhere, The Nefarioso growls. MSM ignores it.]

DECIDER: [smirk] I am. But I'm not a tyrant. You got to have respootle froprootle.

MSM: What?

DECIDER: You've got to have respect for the process.

MSM: But what about OPM's contention that DoD's hissy fit is holding up the clearances, thus endangering national security and allowing actual terrorists to go free?

DECIDER: Um.

MSM: [scales dropping from eyes] If you, beloved Decider, continue to allow this to go on, thus preventing people from getting clearances, people like DoJ, who need those clearances to conduct investigations—

DECIDER: Now, let me stop you right there. There are no investigations. DoJ gave up trying to find illegality because there wasn't any to begin with. It was just another effort - which you're aiding and abetting, by the way - to derail the effort to smoke America's enemies out of their holes. And I intend to smoke 'em out. I hate America's enemies. I love America, and anyone who tries to derail the de-holing efforts doesn't. I won't let the de-holing be derailed. I intend to keep the effort on the rails. Because I'm The Conductor. Next question?

MSM: Can I ask a follow up?

NEFARIOSO: Go fuck yourself!

MSM: [scribbling furiously on note pad] Thank you, sir. [MSM rushes offstage.]

DECIDER: Don't mention it. [To audience.] I hope you've learned your lesson.