Obama - Scrooged

By Nicholas Contompasis

Like a vampire sucking the last drops of life from his victim, the President arrived for another fundraiser in Manhattan. With the well coordinated lighting of Rockefeller Square's Christmas tree, the President couldn't have pissed-off the locals more, as he closed off most streets that would normally be used for the festivities. It was as though he was purposely sabotaging another Christian holiday, again validation to most, of his Muslim beliefs.
This was the last straw for New Yorkers, who put up with his attempt to try the mastermind of nine eleven just blocks away from the fallen towers, his endorsement of a Mosque to be built the same distance from the hallowed site and his complete disregard for Israel, in-turn American Jew's who predominately populate the lower part of the Island.
As anger mounted towards the President the new town crier Donald Trump rallied the common man and spoke his mind in plain language. Prior to his arrival, he used YouTube to blast the President for his lack of concern for the common man, who wouldn't be able to attend the tree lighting due to his inconsiderate behavior. The video clip went viral and could have been a conservative Republican campaign commercial, it was that good.
It was obvious to many now that the President wasn't drawing the same crowds he did back in '08 and it was starting to take it's toll on his ego.
Jimmy was part of his advance guard on this trip and noticed that there was more action last night with Rush Limbaugh in town than the President's visit tonight. He slyly mumbled his observation to a partner just loud enough so the President could hear. This drew an immediate glare from the Commander in Chief who had enough of Jimmy as one of his family Secret Service guards. Jimmy was black, also, but he wasn't a Marxist and this so-called President gave him the creeps.
While the President danced around the conference room meeting and greeting, Jimmy had himself replaced for the rest of the evening and ducked out for a quick cell call to Dave back at Langley.
Dave finished up with Jimmy's report on the President's movements and quickly got back to a bigger issue, George Preston.
He slipped his cell phone into his shirt pocket and stared out over the now near empty parking lot of a commercial building just outside of the agency's gate. A familiar dark colored Carrera that had seen better days cautiously creeped into view. It stopped about three hundred feet from where he was leaning up against his BMW. The windshield looked as though it had collected five years of dust, which would make that about right, since George hadn't been stateside since 2007. The car sat with headlights on motor running as Dave fought the wind and forty degree temperature. What was George waiting for? Why wasn't he getting out?
George had so many answers to Dave's questions regarding the President and it was driving him nuts to be so close to validating his suspicions of the Commander in Chief. The car's engine suddenly turned off and a man that looked like George emerged from the car as the 969th day of the Obama Presidency couldn't wait to see how much money he collected tonight.

Obama - The Thrill of Assassination

By Nicholas Contompasis

It had been over three and a half months since Iran hijacked Osama bin Laden's body from the briny deep. The Administration did a good job of forcing The Washington Post to print a retraction and apology for the accurate story. The President's ego had been saved!!! So, most of America went on thinking that Seal Team 6 had secured the burial site of the most wanted man in history since Adolph Hitler.
Dave was up to his ears in day to day operation matters.
The President was becoming more of a threat every day since the bin Laden and Gaddafi assassinations. It was as though he had become empowered by his own new found strength to terminate an opponent. For a community organizer from Chicago, the rush was much more intense than successfully smearing a local councilman.
Michelle was at her wits end and counting the days to 2013 when she could have her life back again. She was riding the leader of the free world more these days since she saw the balances in his foreign bank accounts. Soros had been very successful in turning the President's five million dollar nest-egg into nearly three billion euros and she wanted more bling, a lot more bling.
In Dave's thirty years with the agency he had never experienced more operations. Africa and the Middle-east were now the focus of foreign policy. With the toppling of our stable dictators in North Africa the Arab Spring had caused many in the Pentagon to post more observation centers.
The problem with the region was that China had interests in much of its rich natural resources. Even though offshoots of al Qaeda were threatening most Eastern African countries China knew they could be controlled if necessary. It was the West they were at war with, not Islam.
Dave knew that Red China hadn't changed and genocide was still on their list of persuasions.
Since Petraeus signed on as head of the C.I.A. the agency finally felt good again. Penetta was not good and it was like a huge cloud lifting from Langley.
The President was on his road trip in Asia building the Joint Chiefs idea of a firewall around Red China. India, Australia, Japan and Indonesia would be the major players in this new Asian line in the sand. Plans are to beef up these allies with some pretty sophisticated military hardware. China's saber rattling was scaring the hell out of them and they had no plans on learning Mandarin or eating with sticks.
Through this bureaucratic fog, Dave still had to deal with George who was out there somewhere, on his own personal rampage, against what he interpreted as a 2008 coup d'etat of the United States. George was an amazing man and with a mind that could thrill any mystery novelist. That's what made George so good, he could think way outside the box without sounding like a nutcase.
D.C. was cold these days. The conversations were cold, the people were cold and oh yeah, the weather was cold. Winter was setting in and the leaves from most trees had fallen, leaving a multicolored pallet on the floor of most parks and open spaces.
It was now seven thirty as Dave inched his way back to his hundred and fifty year old townhouse in Georgetown. He couldn't stop thinking of how Middle-eastern policy changed so abruptly after the Ayatollah's attempt to bomb a Saudi Ambassador in the middle of D.C. That really woke up the Royal Family. Finally, they stopped dragging their feet on an Iranian attack.
But, now the problem was, as usual, the President. If anybody could fuck up a wet dream it was him.
It frustrated the Joint Chiefs as they continued to do end-runs around any direct order coming from him or his inexperienced staff.
Sometimes Dave wished he could dump his desk job, hit the road with George and start doing things the right way, the old fashioned way. Spook operations had become so political and procedural, all the fun was gone. Dave missed the good old days when a twenty-four inch piano wire took care of business. Even an icepick to the back of the head penetrating the cerebellum was better than waiting for three levels of management to make a decision on a kill.
Now, it was more about touchy-feely policies, don't do this, don't do that. It made most of the old timers who won the cold war head for traffic-crossing guard jobs.
Dave finally made it home and dropped into his big red wing-chair in front of his fireplace that was already roaring. As he became mesmerized by the fire's wavy movement and sounds of cracking and snapping his secured cellphone rang. It was George, as the 958th day of the Obama Presidency had little more than a year to destroy America.