Saturday, November 19, 2011
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.