A MEDAL FOR KARL?
Karl Rove
“Karl, I hate to see you sitting in your big chair in front of your desk and spend hours looking out the window with that distant look in your beady eyes!”
“What do you want me to do, Mister President? Everyone is against me!”
“Well, you had it coming. You know, Doctor Phil always says that the fruit of self confidence is arrogance but that arrogance is really an expression of pusillanimity, whatever that is. He says that its unhappy results involve poor digestion and a touch of impotence. He also says that plotting and cooking up schemes taxes not only the brain but also darkens the soul, whichever comes first. Perhaps you should see a psycho doctor”
“You mean a psychiatrist.”
“Whatever. Besides you are running out of brilliant ideas and clever solutions. Even Scott McClellan comes up with good lies and beautiful smoke curtains. That kid is going places. But before the media notices your present condition we can perhaps arrange for an ambassadorship in some quiet place like Andorra, Burkina Faso or Belize where you can help the natives embrace freedom and democracy. You know, diplomatic status will probably keep you out of jail. .”
Old Karl listened to the Boss with some apprehension. He could not help feeling terribly jealous of Scott and disappointed that his razor sharp inventiveness seemed to have deserted him. Worse, he was about to be discarded like an old set of false teeth. Tears were already at the edge of his limpid orbs and he felt that another derogatory comment from the President, his idol, would produce an unstoppable flow of tears and another wave of heartache and anxiety. In a low voice he said:
“Is there anything you can do other than send me away?”
“How about a medal, Karl?”