THE WAR

                        (DON’T YOU WISH?)

            The President patted his stomach. “Dammit, the food in the White House is just too good. Look at that belly; I’m as out of shape as the worst couch potato, and here I am President.”

            The aide nodded. “Yeah, but you’ve got good company. Half of Congress looks worse, especially Senator Jackson.”

            “Heh! Well, you’re right about that. Of course the old fart is nearly seventy years old. Reckon that he’ll be a goner soon.” The President turned to observe his profile in the mirror. “Damn, I hate this. Why the hell did I ever get into politics any way? I could have been a policeman or a dogcatcher.”

            The aide snickered. “That’s what all politicians say, but they like the perks, and the pay’s not bad either.”

            “Sure, but a million a year is cold comfort at a time like this. God, the responsibility of leading our Army, Navy and Air Force into combat is a huge and serious burden. Who’d have thought that we’d ever get into a war again? I mean after a string of disasters like Viet Nam and Iraq, you think that the public would hate the idea. We’re still paying for Iraq, for Pete sakes.”

            The aide nodded. “I suppose that the suicide bomber in Chicago had something to do with it,” he observed dryly.

            The President looked at the aide sharply, but the aide’s poker face reflected none of the sarcasm that the remark implied. “Yes. A nuke for God’s sake. How the hell could that get past us? I know, I know, a twenty foot private sailboat coming up the coast, through the locks and across the lakes. And the assholes at Homeland are all looking at shipping containers. How the hell big do they think that a nuke has to be anyway?” He shook his head, and returned to examining himself in the mirror.

            The aide nodded again. “Of course ‘Nam and Iraq are the main reasons for the War Amendment. That and Congressman Dent.”

            The President sat down and looked up miserably at the aide. “Yeah, Dent put that bill up to amend the Constitution because Congress had sloughed the war-making off onto the President, and thought that suggesting an amendment to make war subject to a popular vote would win him a few votes from the anti-war crowd. He was more surprised than anyone when it sailed right through the amendment process.”

            “With the rider from Senator Williams, of course,” the aide reminded him.

            The President nodded glumly. “Saying that all those drawing Government paychecks had to be in the front lines, in order of their salary.” He adjusted the lapel on his uniform. “How do I look?” he asked.

            The aide shrugged. “Like any Private First Class” he answered.

John Cooley, author, "Dear Madman"