Di Leo: Sundae Time with Basement Joe - Pistachio Sundaes, Buckets of Cash

By John F Di Leo  - 

Introduction: Imagine, if you will, an alternate universe in which a confused old man - Joe Buckstop - stumbles into the presidency, and spends his entire term in his basement. Each evening, an aide walks downstairs and serves him his evening snack, and engages him in conversation about current events, in a losing effort to keep the old man's mind somewhat sound. Tonight's episode is an excerpt from the ongoing series, "Evening Soup with Basement Joe," by John F. Di Leo, a fictional chronicle of the events of 2021, a political satire available in paperback or eBook from Amazon.

"Hello? ... Hello in there? Anybody there?"

"Yeah, yeah, just a minute... umm... go ahead, come in... what is it?"

"I have your ice cream, sir."

"Who are you?"

"Jackson van Buren, sir. I brought you your ice cream the other night, remember?"

"No."

"I was working on your fence outside, sir... and your cook asked me to bring you your sundae when we finished up for the day, remember?"

"No."

"And so I brought you your ice cream because your cook's knee prevents her from bringing it down to your basement herself, remember, sir?"

"No."

"Well, anyway, that's the same story today, so here you go, sir."

"What is it?"

"Pistachio sundae, sir."

"Why?"

"Umm... it's called a pistachio sundae because it's a dish of ice cream with pistachios on it, sir. What else would you call it?"

"Huh? Oh."

"Quite a day, sir. After Mass this morning, I caught one of the Sunday shows before coming in to work."

"Sundae shows? They have shows all about sundaes? Cool. What... different flavors, different toppings, stuff like that?"

"Huh? Oh, umm... no, sir... I meant, the Sunday shows. You know, the Sunday news shows, where talking heads interview politicians and other reporters about the week. You know."

"Come on, man! Got me all revved up about a TV show about ice cream. Don't do that to a guy."

"Ummm... well, sir, I just figured, you'd be familiar with them, being in politics yourself and all, sir..."

"Boring. Never watch that stuff. You want to know how to be a successful politician? Take Amtrak. That's the way. Talk to people. Make friends. Get contributions."

"I see. Well, I suppose I can see how that would work for you, sir. But I like to know what's going on ... how the people I voted for - or didn't - or might never again - are spending my money, you know?"

"What do you care? Why let it bother you? It's not like you can do anything about it."

"I see. Well, sir, that is an interesting take, sir."

"This is good. What are these things on top. Nuts?"

"Well, sir, it's a pistachio sundae; I would expect there to be some pistachios in there, sir."

"I was asking about the nuts."

"The pistachios are the nuts, sir."

"They are?"

"Well, present company excepted, anyway, sir."

"Oh... always wondered what pistachio meant. Learn something new every day."

"I suppose so, sir. I've got my hands full working on your fence, sir, so I'm glad I don't have to relearn things I should've known already."

"Huh? What fence?"

"The fence around your house, sir."

"You lying dog-faced pony soldier! I don't have a fence around my house!"

"We've been through that already, sir. You didn't. So we're building you one, sir."

"What are you building?"

"A fence, sir. Around your property, sir. To keep you safe, sir."

"I'm already safe. Got my mask with me. All the time. Always got a mask with me. So I'm always safe."

"I don't see a mask on you, sir."

"Huh? Oh, right. It's in my pocket, here... no... oh must be in this one... no... hmm... must be in my pants pockets... huh? No... hmm...Maybe I tucked it in my shoe..."

"Your shoe, sir?"

"Sometimes my shoes hurt a little, and the mask cushions it somewhat..."

"Umm... sir, your shoes are untied. I think your feet might just be hurting because your shoelaces are bunched up under your foot, sir. That's how it looks to me, anyway..."

"They are Not! I know how to tie my shoes, you lying dog faced pony soldier, you... hey... wait a minute... what's this..."

"Is that your shoelace, bunched up under the arch of your foot, sir?"

"How did you know?"

"It just looked that way, sir. Hey, I've got a question as long as I'm here, sir. Could you please tell me, what's the real bottom line about the fat payments to illegal families that were separated at the border?"

"Come on, man!"

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to upset you, it's just that... all the different media sources seem to be getting a different story on it, sir. CNN says one thing, Fox says another, the Big 3 still sound like something else... I don't get who it would apply to, or who would implement it, or what, sir."

"Look, this stuff is all very confusing... even to me... How about we just keep talking about ice cream and feet?"

'Well, I don't pretend to be a reporter or anything like that, I'm just a regular working stiff and I'm listening to the news, and I'm kind of confused, sir."

"So who isn't."

"Well, sir, I mean... I am a taxpayer."

"So what."

"And I'm working on your house, sir."

"So what."

"And I'm a union man..."

"Oh. Well... I guess... for a union man... okay, I can take a couple questions. What were you wondering about?"

"Well, sir, the story is that there are lots of families of illegal aliens who came to the border and got temporarily separated, right?"

"Oh, well, yeah."

"Because the adult illegal border crossers are considered to be criminals, and their little kids really aren't, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"And now there's talk about the State Department writing checks to all these people for the inconvenience of being detained. Is that right, so far, sir?"

"Well, I guess, sort of..."

"How far back would this program go, sir? Ten years? A generation? 50 years?"

"Oh no. Just a couple years of the Trump administration."

"But, why, sir?"

"Because! Trump bad! Trump policies bad! Must stop trump!"

"But it's normal when arresting a criminal to separate him from the innocent minors who might be near him, isn't it, sir?"

"Beside the point."

"And didn't the Obama administration do pretty much the same thing just a few years ago, sir?"

"Beside the point."

"And doesn't your current regime do pretty much the same thing now, sir?"

"I don't know what my regime's doing! How dare you assume that I know what's going on!"

"Ummm, yes sir, I see what you mean, sir."

"I mean, come on, man! Can't a guy go ten minutes without browbeating a guy with questions?"

"Sorry, sir. Just trying to understand the issue, it's totally dominating the news, sir."

"What is?"

"The border payments, sir."

"What payments?"

"The reported half million dollars for each family separated at the border, sir."

"Half a million dollars?"

"Yes sir, potentially for tens of thousands of them, sir, according to some reports, sir."

"Half a million dollars?"

"Yes sir. Each, sir."

"Oooohhh... how can I get a cut of that?"

"Well, umm, you can't, sir. I mean, this is a potential payment to foreigners, sir. Foreign lawbreakers, sir. Gate-jumpers, so to speak, sir."

"But how can I get my ten percent?"

"I wouldn't think you could, sir."

"Maybe I could represent them. Did I keep my law license active? I don't remember now."

"Well, you'd probably have to take the bar again, sir...."

"Oh, they won't let me near a bar anymore. Messes with my vitamin shots something fierce. "

"I see, sir."

"Besides, last time I went to a bar, such a big fight broke out..."

"Oh, between your campaign advisors, sir?"

"Come on, man! No, between the guys in the bar. You know, you sniff one waitress' hair, and before ya know it, everybody wants to beat you up..."

"Well, sir, what i was wondering, mostly, sir, is just whether this is real, this report that you folks want to pay foreign gate-jumpers some kind of American payoff when they're the ones who committed a crime, sir."

"Oh, that's none of my business."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"That's up to the DoJ. None of my business."

"But sir, it's an administration proposal, sir."

"We have an independent DoJ. They do their own thing. Do their own math. They figure out these things."

"But sir, they still report to you, sir."

"Nobody reports to me. I stay in the basement and eat my ice cream."

'But sir, the DoJ can't have access to this kind of money anyway, sir. If they decided they wanted to do it, wouldn't they need congress, or your offices, to figure out how to fund it, sir?"

"Fund what?"

"The payments, sir! To the aliens!"

"Aliens? There are aliens? What, from Mars?"

"No, sir, from Latin America, sir."

"Well that's no fun. They won't even have antennas."

"Umm... I can't argue with that, sir... but if this is tens of thousands of people, you could be talking about tens of billions of dollars, sir."

"What is?"

"The payments, sir. The payments that your offices are talking about. I saw one of your senior advisors on TV this morning... they're not denying it as ridiculous, sir. Nobody can afford that kind of a plan!"

"What plan?"

"The one to pay some kind of a bonus to gate crashers where people were separated at the border, sir!"

"My nuts have separated from my ice cream. I think I'm eating too slowly. I wonder why some of the ice cream is green, and some of it's white..."

"That's the pistachios, sir."

"You know what I've always wondered?"

"No, sir. What have you always wondered, sir?"

"What does pistachio mean?"

...end of transmission...