Introduction: Nowadays truth is stranger than fiction and fiction is truer than truth. Keeping that in mind…

I got a set of hearing aids the other day, but I think the hearing specialist who sold them to me screwed up. She talked me into getting a kind that has all sorts of different programs. The user can change from one program to the other by pushing a little button on the device. But here’s the thing, in the fancy box that contained the aids was this note:

I more or less ignored the note. Since then, I’ve been wearing these hearing aids and fooling around with the different programs. Yesterday, I did something – I don’t know what – and suddenly I heard a piercing siren. Then the aid tuned me into this conversation that was taking place I don’t know where.

Person #1 (Who later turned out to be “Dick”): Rex, what the hell is going on with that president of yours?

Rex: Hold a second, Mr. Secretary

Dick (cutting in): Rex, let’s dispense with the formalities. You’re “Rex” to me and I’m “Dick” to you.

Rex: Okay, sorry about that. Anyway, he’s not “my” president. As you know, I had to cut my ties with him after it came out that I had called him ‘dumb as a rock’. I don’t have any contact with that idiot anymore, but I can tell you who does that we can talk to. Let’s give Lindsay a call.

(Phone is heard ringing)

Lindsay: Hello?

Rex: Lindsay, this is Rex. I’ve got Dick on the line also. How are you doing? How did that golf game go?

Lindsey: The sonofabitch cheated at almost every other hole.

Dick: Lindsey, we all know that. Please, don’t waste our time here. That’s not what we’re talking about.

Lindsey: Oh, you mean as far as the sonofabitch’s campaign… Well, I tried my best, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise with the sonofabitch. You know how he is, Rex. You can’t even kiss some sonofabitch’s ass if all you see is a talking mouth.

Dick: Look, we don’t have a whole lot of time here…

Lindsey (cutting in): You can say that again. The Georgia elections are tomorrow and that asshole is totally blowing it. You know, I talked with Matt and Karen the other day…

Rex (cutting in): With who?

Lindsey: Matt Murray and Karen Pensiero from the Wall St. Journal. They had a great editorial about those elections. I even helped them work it out. Did you see it? They pointed out the great accomplishments of the sonofabitch but then explained how he could be blowing it with this campaign…

Dick (cutting in): Look, we all hope that Kelly and David can pull it out and we know that your “sonofabitch” is liable to blow it for them, but that’s not the worst of it.

Rex: Sure, I hope Mitch can keep control. We might have to pay a little more taxes if he doesn’t. And if Mitch loses it, that goddam Bernie might have a louder voice, but that’s nothing we can’t handle. He’s all hot air anyway….

Dick (cutting in): Yeah, we can even use Bernie as a scare tactic to an extent. But the main thing is… Well, you know I used to play football in college. The way I see it is this: The most dangerous time for the offense is when the football changes hands. Say the quarterback is handing it off to the running back. Usually it’s pretty safe because the line keeps the defenders at a distance, but if a defender can penetrate the offensive line and get to them while there’s a handoff, nine times out of ten there will be a fumble. Course, the offense has a good chance of recovering the ball, but still, you never want this to happen…

Lindsey: Dick, what the hell are you talking about?

Dick: Look, to put matters in plain English: We’ve had our two parties handing off the ball – trading times in the White House – for over 150 years. Sure, we don’t like the Democrats and especially not Bernie and their type, but let’s face it, they’re like a fake in football, where you pretend to hand the ball off to the running back and then hold onto it yourself instead. It’s something like that, where you don’t really know where the ball is…

Rex: Dick, please, stop bragging about your football and let’s get on with it.

Dick: Okay, well my point is that we’ve been alternating between our two parties in the White House and Congress with hardly a hitch for over 150 years. Hardly anybody questions the way that happens. Now, Lindsey’s “sonofabitch” is challenging the whole thing and it couldn’t come at a worse time. Who the hell knows what’s going to happen.

Lindsey: You know, I’ve got a friend back home, a good ol’ boy who really keeps his ear to the ground. You fellers mind if I bring him in on this?

Rex and Dick together: Sure. Go ahead.

(Sound of phone ringing.)

New voice: Yeehaw… Lindsay! What is going on? I ain’t talked to you since November.

Lindsey: Yeah, Big Daddy, I’m just talking with a few totally reliable guys here about the sonofabitch and how he’s blowing it.

New Voice: Yeah, that goddamnsonofabitchmotherfuckerbastard. He saved me something like $78 million in taxes since he came in. I loved him even when he was talking crazy. But now… I don’t know, Lindsay. November didn’t turn out like we’d hoped, but that was mainly because of corona. And it could have been a lot worse. If we lose in Georgia, I might have to lose some of those tax breaks. Course, we both know it won’t be all of it, but like they say, every million dollars counts. And now that idiot might blow it. Georgia could go south, or really the opposite of “South” if you get my meaning. You get it? How the South usually goes. Pretty good, huh? Har, har, har, har…. But how can we shut that idiot up? I’m telling you, back when we were saddled with Kennedy for president…

Lindsey, Rex, and Dick all at once: Hold it! Hold it! Hold it! Stopstopstop!

Rex: Look, my man, I won’t identify myself beyond saying that I worked with the president closely. I know where you’re going and we’re not going to even go there. Not even close. Much too dangerous this time and anyway, he’s going to be out of office in just a few days.

(At that point there is shouting and car horns out on the street outside my house.)

New Voice: What was that?

Dick: I don’t know but I think we better stop here.

The phone conversation ends here. Then, in a few minutes I hear “whup, whup, whup, whup” outside. I look outside and there are three black helicopters hovering overhead. Suddenly four or five black SUV’s pull up and men in dark suits emerge. They are all wearing sunglasses. They fan out around my house and there is pounding on my door.

“Special Agents! Deep State special agents! Open up! Open up now!”

I need to get out of here.

If you don’t hear from me anymore, please somebody take care of my dogs. I’m in hiding somewhere in fantasyland. Or is it fantasyland or reality?

Note: In case anybody is unclear, there is no intent for anybody to believe this is literally true. We have to say this because in the past some people read some fictional conversations that we published and believed they were true. Nor are we advocating political violence in any way. Just the opposite. But sometimes a point can be made through fiction better than through fact.