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America Down President Evil

America Down President Evil

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America Down President Evil

772 pages
11 heures
Dec 15, 2011


The President surreptitiously works to destroy America. Citizens arise and fight to save it.
A covert war against America by the Washington Government is unveiled in this fiction presentation completed in 2008. America is being leveled into insignificance by gradually destroying the Culture.
President Robert Evil was practically unknown only months before the election. Soon after taking office, he draws up his personal Attack List to destroy the Institutions that provide the values that meld American Citizens together as a nation. He goes after the Institutions of: Government For the People, Family, Christianity, Media, and Education. He declares everything he is doing is for the well-being of the people.
President Evil discovers the MAD Men are the most powerful tool ever found to attack and dismember a culture. He uses them to devastate the Institutions of Family and of Christianity.
Although First Lady Jezzie is not even an American Citizen, she is consumed with a lust for Presidential power. She leads an attack. Jezzie tours Mexico and South America to touch off an Illegal Alien Tsunami intended to create a diversity that divides the culture.
The President and First Lady are not attacking alone. They are propelled, even compelled, by a force behind them that seeks victory over a historically disorganized, destructive world. With the assistance of President Evil, the force sees success near in the long struggle to reorganize the world and bring Peace and Prosperity for EveryOne, ForEver. To reorganize, the most powerful nation, America, must be taken down.
In St. Johnathon's Church, the cry, "Give Me Liberty, Or Give Me Death," helped launch a 1776 revolution against an oppressive foreign government across the sea.
In that very same church, Citizens now launch a Resistance against the 'foreign' government in Washington, DC.
Old Timer Citizens Resistance Men, men of their 50's, 60's and 70's, men who remember the way America was, men who once fought for the way it was, arise Citizen Cell by Citizen Cell, town by town, and fight, not to birth a nation, but to preserve the nation of their birth.
They defend against the Illegal Alien War at the border, in the Sanctuary Cities, in Los Angeles and at a minute's notice in their hometowns.
If they fail, Government Of the People, For the People...shall...perish from the earth. And so shall the flickering embers of Liberty and Justice for All.

Dec 15, 2011

À propos de l'auteur

Richard David became a writer and author after a degree in physics, a stint in the army, and a career as a broadcast journalist in midwest cities.He and his wife have lived and worked coast to coast in America the Beautiful.

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America Down President Evil - Richard David


President Evil

By Richard David

Copyright 2011 Richard David

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return toSmashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.


President Evil

A Novel

The President surreptitiously works to destroy America. Citizens fight to save it.

A Message

On a Saturday afternoon in October, I sat down and began writing this story. That day, I wrote the first chapter and the last. That was in October 1999. The final words were put down in December 2008. By then, the first was no longer the first, the last no longer the last. Even as those final words were being set, already I was seeing how much of what I wrote as fiction was becoming fact. For some this work will be a warning.

Author contact: richarddavid@americadown.com

President Robert Evil. Driven to level America into insignificance. Targets Government For the People, Christianity, and the Family.

First Lady Jezzie. Touches off an Illegal Alien Tsunami to foment a Diversity that Divides.

The Director and The Assistants. Lead the covert Culture War to demolish the Institutions that make America strong.

MAD Men. Most powerful weapon ever found for attacking America.

Old Timer of Beach City. Ignites a Citizens Resistance.

Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.




1 Deceivers

2 Manipulators

3 The Meeting

4 The PIA

5 Journalists

6 The First Lady Problem

7 President Evil’s Attack Plan

8 Subverting Congress

9 Not Governmentally Acceptable

10 Subverting The Judges

11 Miss O’ Cents And The Anti Christian League United

12 The Precedent



1 Outing Christmas

2 Banning The C Word

3 The Church Financial Equality Act

4 Illegal Alien Tsunami

5 Highway of Hope

6 Jezzie And The Mexico Plan

7 Illegal Alien Economics

8 The MAD Man Master Plan and MAD Daryl

9 Gavard MAD Meetings

10 Joe Christian, Mike and the Boys

11 Christian Killing

12 Jezzie And The Vineyard

13 The Demise of Ex-President Dickson

14 School Dayz

15 Equality In Education Act

16 Symbolically Incorrect Cross

17 Separating The Church

18 Architectural Purification



1 Resistance Begins

2 Politically Correct Sermon

3 PreacherMan

4 Family Attack

5 The MAD Agenda Now

6 Molding Minds

7 Independence From The Judges

8 Arise!

9 People’s Court

10 Oracleville Culture War

11 Leveling Oracleville

12 Citizen’s Resistance Fights Back


The Struggle

1 Illegal Free County

2 Battle For Illegal Free

3 Illegal Alien Citizens

4 Mandatory Deportation And Exile

5 The UnConstitution

6 The People’s Government Of America

7 Citizens Resistance on the Border

8 Anatomy of An Operation

9 The Bear


War In America

1 Illegal Alien War

2 Out The Establishment

3 Media Take Down

4 University Take Down

5 Exile Judges, Fix The Flaw

6 Shoes

7 The Vision

8 Killing Christianity

9 An Act of God’s Nature

10 State of The Nation


The Future

1 Beyond An American Nation





To Contents

NOOO! President Robert Evil screamed down the secret corridor that only the President could be in. He stopped walking and squared off in a provocative stance against the wall. In a flash nearly too quick to see he sucker punched the cold concrete wall with a loud smack of his palm.

NO! he yelled back in the direction from which he had just come from The Meeting, the first meeting on this first day of his Presidency.

I’m nobody's PUPPET! He started again toward the far end of the long corridor and the secure elevator that would take him back up to the White House. Anger boiled again and spewed down the corridor.

I have my own DESTINY!... for GREATNESS!

As he went on toward the elevator a moment of clarity punched through, and he recognized he needed to think over very carefully what had just happened. He forced out a long calming breath. He needed not to be angry right now. Vengeful, yes. Angry, no. With each step, he tamped down his anger and got himself under control.

The Presidency comes at you real fast, he thought. Just a handful of hours ago he was laying in bed savoring the moment of waking up in the White House for the first time as President of the United States of America.

He lay motionless and looked expectantly across the pillows at Jezzie. He wanted to see her face when she awoke and saw, for the first time, the President of the United States, in bed beside her. Her husband. The President.

Jezzie stirred under the Navy Blue blanket and six foot Presidential Seal that spread across the ultra king size bed. Her eyes drowsily half opened then popped wide open.

Oh my gosh! The President of the United States! Oh my gosh! She bolted up We did it! We did it! Jezzie bounced in bed and pumped her fists into the air. We did it! We did it!

Yes! President Evil chimed in and jabbed a fist upward. I did it! I did it!

Jezzie stopped bouncing.

Good Morning, Mr. Preeeezzzident. She batted her eyes and cooed with a breathy, imitation playfulness. Playfulness was not one of her usual characteristics.

Good Morning, First Laaaaaady. He drawled in return mock playfulness. Playfulness was not one of his usual characteristics.

Can you believe we are here? Jezzie laughed and bounced some more.

Sure, he chuckled.

From nowhere to here! In months!

I know.

You were practically unknown only months ago.

I know.

We did it. We did it. Jezzie bounced again. I still can’t believe it.

I can. Not only can I believe it, I expected it. Destiny. The fun was draining out of his voice. The moment of playful celebration with Jezzie, such as it was, was quickly ending.

My first day as President starts with a briefing in the Oval Office in a little over an hour. Let’s get going. I didn’t come here to be just another President.

He slipped out of bed and marched off toward his separate dressing room. To Robert Evil, nearly all Presidents had occupied the office without vision or memorable accomplishment. They were mere men without his destiny for greatness.

What about me? Jezzie demanded as she went to her separate dressing room.

What do you mean?

What’s my schedule? I should attend the Presidential briefings with you this morning. I need to know the same things you know.

Attend Presidential briefings? he huffed low for Jezzie not to hear. That was pretty bold. And out of the question. He was not going to let that happen. I’m sure there’ll be separate briefings for you, he said through his open dressing room door to her open door. I believe you’ll get briefed this morning on First Lady Protocol.

Oh, really? Jezzie bristled at being relegated to what she considered a mundane briefing on an insignificant matter. She let it drop. For now.

Jezzie was relentless. She would keep coming back and back, sometimes in subtle ways, sometimes in open, forceful, confrontational ways until she got what she wanted. When she wanted something, she never stopped. And hardly anyone ever stopped her.

In her dressing room, Jezzie slipped out of her negligee allowing the mirror a brief tantalizing moment of her slender wonderfully formed body. She gently ran her fingertips along the nakedness of her neck, over her shoulder, and down the side of her arm, then, with a contented smile, she wrapped herself in a makeup robe.

He has a robe with the Presidential Seal, she smirked as she knotted the ties around her waist with an irritated tug, I should have a robe with a First Lady Seal.

Jezzie at 47 looked practically 27 from a lifelong devotion to staying trim and fit with constant exercise and careful nutrition. Her natural light tan complexion from her Panimanium ancestry gave her a patina of physical vitality.

When the girl from Panimania went walking, she moved in quick mini hip thrusts from one side then the other that created the subliminal suggestion of sex. Heads turned when Jezzie walked. She was happily aware of the attention, but not fully aware of the cause.

Her naturally black hair fell in gentle waves to lightly touch her shoulders. When she stood with President Evil, the top of her hair reached his shoulders. Her smile was inviting and seemed real, not practiced and political. Jezzie’s sparkling black eyes radiated a physical beauty. The dark eyes masked a dark place in her soul.

From his dressing room, President Evil went to the door to talk across the room to Jezzie’s door and mollify her over refusing her demand to be included in the Oval Office briefings.

Here’s what’s going to happen this first morning. I understand my agenda is going to start with a briefing on my personal security and safety as President. Then during the day we’ll progress into Presidential briefings on national security. But, you and I both need to know how we’re going to be protected in here. If you don’t get a briefing on personal security, I’ll fill you in when we both get back here to the residence.

OK. Jezzie simmered from her dressing room.

I’ve already figured out something from this first night in here. Short night wasn’t it?

Yes. And what a fun night with all the inaugural balls.

Yes. I’ve already figured out the Presidential bedroom doubles as a safe room in case of an attack.

Really? Jezzie was more interested in doing her make up.

Yes. I figured out each wall of the bedroom has at least one other room on the other side with thick walls. All the other rooms circle around the bedroom so the President will be safe while sleeping.


I also understand the ceiling above the bedroom is reinforced to withstand a bomb blast or even the crash of a small plane onto the roof. So, the bedroom can be a safe room, anytime.


And I understand there’s a secret elevator behind a panel here in the bedroom to take the President to an attack proof room several levels beneath the White House.

Take me, too. I hope. Jezzie half laughed and headed for the breakfast nook.

I’m sure.

While President Evil put on his shoes, he scanned the bedroom for a false panel that could hide the secret elevator. He didn’t see anything. That was good. If he couldn’t spot it without being told, that was good protection. He would find out about the security elevator in the briefing. He finished and joined Jezzie.

This first morning everything for the new President was prearranged. Breakfast was being sent up from the chef in the main White House kitchen downstairs. Next, an officer from the Presidential Protection Branch of the Secret Service would come to the private residence to escort President Evil downstairs to his White House office. Robert Evil’s first full day as President would begin from the Oval Office at 7:30.

The Secret Service Officer arrived exactly on time and ushered President Evil into the elevator just steps outside the door from the private residence. The moment they started down, the Officer began instructing President Evil on where he was, and was not, allowed to go in the White House by himself.

Mr. President, you’re not free to roam around on your own in here. You can be in the private residence on your own, of course, and in the Oval Office. But, everyplace else we’ll have Secret Service Protective Men close to you at all times. You can also be in the hallways right around the Oval Office by yourself. But that’s it.

They stepped out of the elevator into a hallway leading toward the Oval Office and passed the Grand Staircase coming down from the second floor.

If you want to come to the Office using the staircase, you can. But, we’ll have one of us several steps ahead of you and two more several steps behind. That’s the way it is in here. We have to protect the President.

As they approached the Oval Office, the Secret Service man walked President Evil through an outer office and then stopped at the door to the Office itself.

This is as far as I go. He stepped back and motioned toward the door.

Mr. President, the Oval Office. Robert Evil’s unlikely rise from nowhere to the Presidency was just on the other side of that door. He went in and closed the door to be alone for this moment. He drew a deep breath and scanned the room from side to side.

Mine. Ha Ha Ha. He was overcome. He couldn’t stop laughing. He thrust his arms skyward and swayed from side to side. Mine. Ha Ha Ha. The Oval Office!

Robert Evil, President of the United States of America! He pumped a fist into the air. President Robert Evil! He walked from one side to the other in triumph. My Destiny. My Destiny.

At length his ecstasy dissipated, and President Evil settled in to survey his pinnacle of power. As he looked around, the Oval Office struck him as small compared to his image of it.

It actually is oval, he chuckled. The corners were rounded with arcs and the walls had a slight curvature to complete the oval.

Even the door, he observed.

The door looked as if a piece of the slightly curved wall had been cut out, a door knob placed on it, and the piece put back in the wall. The door had a very slight curvature. There was no trim around it so that when the door was closed it disappeared into the curvature of the wall. The seemingly door-less room gave a sense of utmost privacy. Of secrecy.

He walked behind the desk to survey his office from there. The Presidential desk at one end looked into the fireplace at the other. He focused on two sofas facing each other in front of the fireplace.

That, he thought, is where I’ll hold confidential conversations with high level aides in small groups.

He spotted a comfortable-looking, heavily upholstered, blue chair nestled across from his desk.

That’ll be my one on one, close-up conversation chair for intimate, intense talks, he planned.

He walked from behind the desk and went to the window on the right side of the Oval Office. He could see out over the spacious White House lawn to the sidewalk beyond.

This is my window looking out onto the world, he observed. And, it occurred to him, the outside world looking in.

He left the window, went back to his desk, and unceremoniously sat down. He was ready for his first Presidential duties. A single sheet of paper laid out on the desk had the first appointment of his Presidency. There was only one item on the schedule. It read:

Cal L. Sullivan. The Meeting 7:30 AM

President Evil checked his watch. He had just a minute or two before Sullivan would be here. How far he had come from his sad beginnings to this pinnacle of power.

I was only four, he recalled, when my father moved out of the house and out of my life.

His father left him and his sister and brother with their mother and took off. He was too young to know it at the time, but Dad never saw a woman he didn’t like. After a divorce, Dad went off to another state to try out the women there.

The break with his father was painful. It especially hurt that his own Dad did not care about him. For a long time he had an ache for Dad to come back home and hold him, talk with him, play with him, accept him, love him. But Dad didn’t come back. He didn’t write. He didn’t call.

Well, he did call sometimes, President Evil remembered, but he would only talk with Mom. He never asked to talk to me. I was right there. He could have talked with me.

The occasional calls during his childhood only rekindled the hurt. What’s wrong with me that Daddy left me? He doesn’t want me.

I love you Daddy.

Daddy, do you love me?

But an answer never came. By the time he was five, the question faded away. He was no longer aware of it. The pain faded away. The ache for acceptance from Dad faded away too. But not very far away. Only into his emotional background where he did not think of it anymore. As he grew from five, to six, to seven, to the emergence of his sexuality in puberty, the unconscious ache lay there in his emotions putting its own special twist on each stage of his development.

He learned from his ache to deny. From deny he learned to deceive. From deceive he learned to manipulate. From manipulate he learned to control. From control he learned to disrespect. From disrespect he reaped emptiness. From the despair of emptiness he again suppressed the ache.

Perhaps it was from the emptiness that he came to believe early in life that he had a destiny, a destiny to be among the greatest men of history. Acceptance, veneration from the public, the country, the world, from history, would provide the acceptance he had not received when he ached for it. Greatness would overcome emptiness.

Through high school he displayed an unexpected interest in history and government, but he was too undisciplined to focus on academic achievement, and he was not a good student of either of these. And, because it was a social passport, he also liked golf. But he wasn’t dedicated enough to become good at that either. Yet, he was very quick to learn. He was social. Good company. And fun to be with.

During his teens he had uncharacteristic moments of profound introspection from which he came to believe he did not need to achieve. He was a person with a destiny and he would be provided for as his destiny unfolded. His destiny for greatness would occur on its own without any effort by him to bring it into being.

In the summer before his senior year of high school, he was selected to go to Governor’s State, the exclusive, and somewhat secretive, week long retreat for a few exceptional students. It was held in the State Capitol and, in the high point of the week, all were taken to the chamber of the state legislature to sit in the seats of the Legislators while receiving instruction on how laws were made. He did not know why he was chosen. Everyone else was a top student or a recognized student leader. He was neither. Maybe it was because he was so likeable and talked and mixed so easily with everyone, even with the high achieving students. Or, then, maybe it was his destiny pulling him along. That made sense.

He did not have a firm idea of what he would do after high school, but he applied to get into State Junior College. His high school record was totally ordinary. He could probably get into State. He could live at home and take some classes.

Toward the end of his senior year, he was astonished when he was recruited by Gavard University, the most elite of the Eastern Universities. He had only applied at State. Not only was he guaranteed admission to Gavard, he was provided with a full scholarship to pursue studies in Governmental Theory and Administration. He was surprised, but, on the other hand, being recruited by Gavard was entirely reasonable. His destiny was providing for him.

As a person of destiny, he believed that laws restricting behavior were for other people. Not for him. He was above laws when that suited him. He had cheated in high school to get his mediocre grades. He cheated because he enjoyed it. He lied as it suited him and made light of it when caught. Getting away with knocking a few strokes off his golf score was more fun than the game itself.

Getting away with cheating and lying confirmed for him that he was not confined by morality. That was for other people. And with that, he went off to Gavard University.

It was at Gavard he realized he was wrong. His destiny would not befall him. He would have to obtain power through the force of his own personality to bring about his destiny. From then onward he became serious, focused and determined. He was driven by his ambition for power. He meticulously measured everything and everybody against fitting in, or not, with his ambition for power.

In his junior year, he was selected for induction into the prestigious and highly secret fraternal group SkullBone, The Tremont Order. He believed it was his exceptional ability for communicating, along with his by now blatant ambition that earned him a place in SkullBone.

Upon graduation, he went out from Gavard and accepted a position with a prestigious Washington think tank. The job was offered to him. He did not search it out. His starting salary was much more than he would have asked.

From this first job, he was heavily immersed in political thought and political activities. He quickly became politically ambitious. At age 39 he was encouraged to run for Governor. He did, and with the backing of those who encouraged him, he won.

As in his younger, carefree days, he could still be good company, fun to be with, and charming. But now these were not genuine expressions. These were tools he used to advance his quest for power. He was charming on the outside, manipulative on the inside.

Deception ran through every thread of his being.

* * *

He sat waiting in the Oval Office and checked his watch again. Sullivan would be here any minute. He thought this would be the meeting to start briefing him on national security.

The outer office called right on time at 7:30.

Mr. President, Mr. Cal L. Sullivan is here.

Thank you. Send him in. President Evil stood up at his desk to receive his first appointment of his Presidency.

Good Morning, Mr. President. I’m Cal L. Sullivan.

Good Morning. Please have a seat. President Evil motioned to the close-conversation chair.

Sullivan did not sit.

I’m here to show you how to get to The Meeting. I’m going to take you to another part of the White House.

Sullivan led President Evil out of the Oval Office. They walked down a hallway and approached a heavy oak door with a brass knob. Sullivan stopped.

This door, Mr. President. Sullivan unlocked the door and briskly ushered them into a short hallway that was more like a walk in closet. At the end was an elevator with the door closed. Sullivan locked the oak door behind them.

You’ll take this elevator to get to The Meeting, Mr. President. You’ll go there by yourself. After The Meeting you’ll return here. This is a secure elevator for the President only. You are the only person who can use it. It will not work for anyone else. I’ll show you how to operate it.

Sullivan put his finger on the wall.

Look right here.

Where? I don’t see anything.

Right here. There’s a tiny lens embedded in the paneling. This is a laser that scans your iris and recognizes only your eye, Mr. President.

Sullivan looked into the lens to demonstrate. Nothing happened.

Now you do that.

President Evil looked. The laser scan beeped that it recognized his eye, and with a Zzzzztt, a small panel in the wall slid open.

"See that shiny plate in there? Press all your right hand fingers and palm onto that for the security check to recognize your prints. That plate is also taking your body temperature and your pulse to make sure this is a live person and not some high tech duplication of your prints.

The last security check is a voice print. After I leave, say your name like this: ‘President…Robert…Evil.’ Say it in that same cadence. The voice scan will recognize your voice, and only your voice, and the elevator door will open. When it does, get in. The elevator senses your weight within a few pounds. So, you can only ride by yourself. A second person cannot be in there with you.

Now, here’s the rest of how you get to The Meeting. The elevator is automatic. When it starts, it’ll go down then stop by itself. You’ll step out into a long, secure corridor that only you, only the President, can be in. At the end, the corridor turns left where you’ll see another elevator that operates just like this one. The second elevator will take you up to a stop. When the elevator door automatically opens, an escort will be there to show you to your place in The Meeting. Any questions, Mr. President?"

No. I’ve got it. Start with the eye scan to open the panel. Then use the fingerprint reader, like we already did. Then end with the voice print.

Right. As soon as I leave, you finish and go to The Meeting. This is the only time we’ll work together. You’ll not see me again. It’s been my pleasure assisting you, Mr. President. Goodbye. Sullivan left.

President Evil spoke in the cadence for the voice print.


The elevator door did not open as Sullivan had said it would. Instead, a small dot that even Sullivan did not know about began glowing in the corner of the sensor plate. Instructions flashed on for President Evil to touch the tip of his finger to his tongue and moisten the glowing dot for a DNA scan. He did. The dot blinked while his saliva sample was analyzed. After a moment, the panel gave a quick beep. He was cleared. The elevator door slid open.

He rode down to the automatic stop and followed Sullivan’s instructions to go through the secure corridor. On the other end, the second elevator went up to an automatic stop just as Sullivan had said. As the door slid open, he jerked back from a pair of overly big eyes staring in at him almost nose to nose. The eyes belonged to a large man with thick magnifying glasses.

I am the Master of The Meeting, the big-eyed man rang out in a deep, officious voice. He didn’t give a name, just the title.

I’m your escort. Come with me.

President Evil followed through a short hallway into a spacious meeting room.

Sit here. The escort pointed forcefully for him to sit alone at a small table.

This is a strange beginning, President Evil thought. The place instantly felt a little eerie. He did a quick survey of the room. There were no windows. He focused for a moment and realized it was too quiet for a room this size. It felt like being in a padded sound booth.

Wherever and whatever this place is, he concluded, it’s some kind of secret, underground place.

At the front of the room, about 20 people were already seated at a table stretching across a dais. He was seated lower and had to look up at them. A large chair in the center was the only seat still empty.

This doesn’t feel like a meeting where the President of the United States is in charge, he thought. Or, even a dignitary.

This didn’t feel like a briefing either.

Overhead lights were shining directly into President Evil’s eyes while the faces of the people on the dais were engulfed in deep shadows cast from the strong lighting coming from behind them. He could not see any of the faces well enough to be recognizable. He was startled at his own conclusion that the shadow-drenched faces must be intentional.

Who are all these people hiding behind those shadows? He squirmed. This setting didn’t feel right.

He was getting uncomfortable.

He had assumed The Meeting would begin the moment he, the President of the United States, arrived. But it was not starting. Instead, he was waiting. As the wait dragged on, it began to dawn on him this was intentional. Apparently, whoever was going to come and take the empty chair on the dais was making him wait. He started to simmer at what struck him as disrespect.

He spotted the Master of the Meeting, the big-eyed guy, off to the side of the room. He was looking around with a broad smirk on his face that seemed to say he was in on this waiting game and was enjoying President Evil’s growing annoyance.

Here he sat, in the first meeting, in the first hour, of the first day in office. And he, the President of the United States, President Robert Evil, was being made to sit and wait. And simmer.



To Contents

Who was this Robert Evil?

Before the election, hardly anybody knew.

And, how did such an unknown man become President?

The few who knew were not saying.

Robert Evil was endlessly ambitious for political power, and while he was Governor, he tried to get his Party to make him the Keynote Speaker at the National Political Convention. He knew national politics well enough to know that the Party insiders used the Keynote Speech broadcast from the convention floor to promote the person they wanted to be the Presidential candidate, not in this election, but in the next cycle four to eight years in the future. He knew that several men had risen from political obscurity to become President after first being chosen by the Party insiders and then performing well in the Keynote spotlight.

Robert Evil knew he would look good on the podium before the thousands of delegates and Party operatives at the Convention. More importantly, he knew the image he would present on TV broadcast around the country would be extremely positive and appealing.

His handsome, angular face was topped with thick, dark hair parted on the left and always kept meticulously in place. Light brown eyes shone with an alertness that suggested he was a man capable of command. At age 47, and just over six feet tall, his body was trim and taut like an expert golfer; which he had become during his intense years at Gavard. He knew that on the podium his practiced military bearing, his walk and his gestures would convey he was a man of power and forcefulness. He had studied public presentation and expropriated a repertoire of power gestures from great speakers of the past.

He lobbied with the Party insiders to get the Keynote address. Not this time. Four years later he tried again. A second time the Party rejected him. He tried a third time. Again, his Party said No. And now the Party talk was, That’s three strikes, Robert Evil, and you’re out. His ambition to be President was permanently sunk. So it seemed.

Robert Evil’s drive for political power carried him on. Three months before the election, he called a Media Meeting for what he dubbed a surprise announcement. Only a few reporters showed up to hear the former Governor.

I am announcing today that I am an Independent candidate for President. This is now a three way race. And I expect to win.

The Media were surprised. And dismissive. The pundits wrote in The Paper the next day,

"Robert Evil does not have the campaign organization, or the money, or the name recognition to be taken seriously as a candidate.

He is unknown nationally.

He has no particular achievements as Governor to recommend him.

Not only does he not have the money for a Presidential campaign, he has no prospects of raising the large amounts needed.

Furthermore, he has no identifiable constituency group to work for him.

And, Robert Evil has only 90 days until the election and that is not enough time to go from obscurity to being a serious contender.

This is Robert’s Folly." The pundits wrote laughingly.

In the privacy of his home, Robert Evil talked over with wife Jezzie how he was going to run his unlikely campaign. She was excited at the prospect of being out on the campaign trail with a candidate for President. But, she couldn’t avoid being skeptical.

How do you think you’re going to win the Presidency in 90 days. I mean, that just seems beyond improbable.

OK, Jezzie. You’re right. I am a long shot. And, yes there are already two front runners in the race. But, you know many a front runner has been knocked out of the race after some bad press or after making a single mistake in the heat of the campaign. You remember The Scream and how it knocked that front runner out overnight.

And, yes, he acknowledged, I am unknown. But I see that as an advantage. Because I’m a clean slate and I can create my own image.

Jezzie was dubious but curious.

How do you think you’re going to create your own image?

"My plan is simple. And I think it’ll work because it is so simple.

I’m not going to go jetting around the country courting crowds.

I’m not going to make myself available to the Media for questions.

I will not take part in debates.

I’m going to be in total control by running my campaign completely through political commercials."

Campaign only through commercials? Jezzie lit up. I want to be in the commercials. She was a dark haired, dark eyed, head-turning beauty and both of them knew her beauty alone would draw votes for him.

Robert Evil explained the rest of his unconventional plan. He only had a short 90 days before the election to overcome being unknown. Still, he was going to hold back the first 60 days and then focus everything on the final thirty. That’s when large numbers of voters started paying attention, anyhow.

In those last 30 days, he would flood the Media with his commercials to create an excitement as the candidate who was charging out of nowhere. Once the excitement began to build, he would saturate the media with commercials carefully timed to peak the excitement on Election Day.

Robert Evil freely admitted there was a big problem with his plan. Money. He didn’t have it. He was not going to go out to the crowds to raise it. And he didn’t know where the massive amount of money needed would come from.

* * *

Shortly after Robert Evil made the Presidential election a three way contest, the race got even more complicated. Samuel Sleaze announced he, too, was entering as an Independent candidate. It was now a four way race.

Robert Evil was delighted. Splitting the popular vote four ways meant he could, theoretically, become President with as little as 26-percent. As he saw it the odds just got easier to beat, from 34-percent in a three way race to 26-percent.

Candidate Sleaze was a self made billionaire from his pornography empire, and he didn’t mind spending several million of his own money for a lark into a Presidential campaign.

Samuel Sleaze was well known as the nation’s pornographer and proud of it. He was a hedonistic, self centered, profane, foul-of-character, sexually perverted, pig of a man. He lived to revel in his own sexual pleasures. He drew pleasure from defiling anybody who was decent, especially young people. He delighted in getting people to defile themselves with sex by enticing them with money, fame, acceptance, experimentation, or whatever worked.

His motto was, It feels good. So do it.

The moment the election became a four way contest, Robert Evil saw two strange things happen in his own campaign. Both were in his favor.

First was money. Big money began pouring into his campaign.

Then, the New York Media that had mostly ignored Mr. Evil suddenly began giving him massive coverage. The Eastern pundits who, just weeks ago, dubbed his campaign Robert’s Folly flipped and now openly favored him in their news stories. The New York Media crossed any line of objectivity and began blatantly promoting Robert Evil. The other Media throughout the nation copied whatever view the Eastern Media took, so they, too, blatantly promoted Evil.

To further promote the campaign, the New York Media created a new theme they repeated over and over. They claimed the large amount of money pouring into Robert Evil’s campaign was coming from the public and therefore was an endorsement by the public of Robert Evil for President.

He knew that was not true. The money was not coming from the public. He knew the money was coming in large blocks through organizations he had never heard of. He assumed these were front organizations formed specifically to funnel money into his campaign. He didn’t know who was behind the money, and he intended not to find out. None of the powerful Eastern Media wanted to find out either. They repeated the story of The money is an endorsement by the public until it became accepted as fact.

Robert Evil was puzzled as to why the Eastern Media flipped from Robert’s Folly to promoting him. He was thrilled they did, but he was puzzled. Whatever was going on, he had a strong sense that his campaign was suddenly being swept along by some benevolent wave.

He believed that all the pieces to be able to take on the front runners and have a chance of winning were now in place. All except one. The pundits had been right when they wrote he did not have a constituency group that would work for him, contribute to him, and vote for him as a solid block. He needed to find one fast.

The biggest, most powerful and most sought after constituency group in the country was the All Teachers Union, the ATU.

No, he decided. They are committed to the Party and have been for a long time.

The ATU had a long standing deal to vote as a solid block for the Party and have the union get money for salaries, raises, and teaching jobs from the government in return. It would be a waste of time to try to pry the All Teachers Union away from its deal.

He thought about the Black and Hispanic racial constituency groups. But, they had the same deal as the teachers. Vote as a block for the Party. Get preferential treatment, jobs, and financial support, from the government in return. It would be a waste of time to try to get the support of the racial voting blocks.

Wait a minute. He jumped up. I’ve got it. I need to find a completely new group. He had one in mind. The MAD Men. He was excited as he thought it through. He would offer them a deal he knew would be more compelling for them than government money.

Here’s the deal I’ll offer, he firmed up, you MAD Men support me 100% as a solid block in this election. I will support you 100% for anything you want during all my years in office. Anything. All my years.

He knew this was a deal the MAD Men would not be able to turn down. He would get his own loyal constituency group. And, a solid block of MAD Men voting 100% for him would be magnified to several times its normal impact in this race split four ways. There was one more part of the deal. He and the MAD Men would keep their support of each other secret.

Even after finalizing the MAD Men deal, Robert Evil was distressed. Yes, he now had his own constituency group. Yes, the big money was pouring in. And, yes, the Media were blatantly supporting him. But, despite all this, he was still far behind the two front runners, and he did not see a way he could overtake them.

* * *

Independent Samuel Sleaze began his Presidential campaign with a news release saying he would make a major announcement in a Media Meeting tomorrow. He was well known as the nation’s pornographer, and the next day he drew a packed crowd of reporters.

At 54, Mr. Sleaze was short, stocky, with a round face and puffy jowls from too many years of indulgence in too much food and drink. A size 56 belt cinched up his protruding paunch and his feet pointed out when he walked to support his overly front-loaded corpulence. His male pattern baldness left a bare pate surrounded with short, grayish-blondish hair on the sides and back.

He always wore long sleeve shirts buttoned tightly at the wrist to try to keep hidden the excessive hair on his arms. But, from the hair that did escape from under his wrist collars and the abundant hair that sprouted on the back of his hands, one could not suppress imagining what a tangled jungle he must have on his chest.

His voice always came out in a nasal, condescending sneer whether he intended to be condescending or not. He usually did. A slight snarl at the left side of his mouth appeared to be permanently implanted. That, and something in the always present squint of his eyes, gave the unsettling feeling that he was a much more crafty fellow than his slovenly appearance suggested.

Candidate Sleaze looked over the top of the seated gaggle of reporters and straight into the cluster of cameras behind them.

A big portion of my human sexuality business has always been images. Photographs. Videos. Many photos are sent to me all the time by people outside my business. Sleaze held up an 8 by 10 picture with the back toward the Media.

"This picture I’m holding was brought to me by reliable sources that are not connected to me.

This photograph shows seven people having group sex." Sleaze flipped the picture around for the Media to see.

One of those in this picture is Candidate Front Runner. Here he is. Right here. This photo was taken 10 years ago.

An excited murmur rippled through the reporters as they crowded close to get a shot for the camera and a good look for themselves.

Candidate Sleaze held up a second photo.

This picture was taken 6 years ago. This is another group sex picture. Front Runner is in this picture, too. Right here. The Media crammed closer to get a look.

He held up a third photo.

"And finally, this group sex picture was taken only 4 years ago. Front Runner is in this one, too. Here he is.

When you look at these pictures you can see that all the people are different, except for one. Front Runner. He’s in all three."

The Media tossed sideways smirks to each other that said candidate Front Runner had just been knocked out of the race.

Sleaze continued. I’m not going to distribute these pictures to you. Political opponents are fair game, but there are other people in these pictures. Their privatcies have to be protected. Reporters tittered at the misconstruction of wording.

Sleaze directed the Media. The question you reporters should be asking Front Runner is this. If he were elected President, who would have undo influence over him from all his years in secret group sex?

Front Runner exploded as he caught the live coverage with his campaign manager and top staff.

I want a response to this right away. Before this vicious slander can take root.

A denial was going to be issued quickly. How it was handled could be the moment that would make or break Front Runner’s campaign. How best to deny these totally false allegations? Having the candidate himself get involved and give an angry denial risked giving a degree of credibility to the charges. On the other hand, the campaign manager could give the denial. That would keep Front Runner at a distance to suggest the charges were beneath a response from the candidate himself.

Either way held risks. Front Runner decided to keep a distance. His campaign manager went on live with an angry denial.

"These supposed photos are fake! That’s why Candidate Sleaze is refusing to make them available to the media for inspection. It doesn’t have anything to do with protecting other people.

Our candidate has never engaged in group sex. Never. Not even once. These phony pictures are defamation of the worst kind. Today, we are filing suit against candidate Sleaze for defamation."

The denial did not work. Front Runner dropped sharply in the polls.

The attack earned candidate Sleaze a new nickname from the Media: Slingin’ Sammy Sleaze.

A few days further into the campaign, Slingin’ Sleaze called another Media Meeting.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll have another major campaign announcement.

The Media cranked up a buzz the rest of the day to build a big audience for tomorrow’s announcement.

Some sources are saying Slingin’ Sammy Sleaze has cut a deal to avoid being prosecuted for defamation. Some sources say Sleaze will recant and drop out of the race. In return, the defamation charges will be dropped.

The some sources being quoted were the Media employing the standard technique of using some sources or anonymous sources or many people are saying to quote themselves and slip in their own opinion.

The next morning, reporters scuffled with each other to get into the jam-packed Media Meeting. Sleaze began.

A few days ago, I brought you information about the candidate Front Runner being involved in group sex. I now have new information. Slingin’ Sleaze looked straight into the camera.

One of the candidates in this Presidential race has been engaging in sex with young boys. Sources tell us candidate Second Runner is the one who is doing this. Reporters shot a here-we-go-again look at each other.

Our sources tell me these boys are as young as 8 and as old as 14. These are not casual encounters like a pat on the buttock. These boys were recruited by candidate Second Runner.

Sleaze guided the Media. The question you reporters should be asking Second Runner is this. If he became President, how could he be trusted to maintain respect for the nation’s laws when he is a law breaker himself?

In less than an hour, Second Runner was on the air live with a podium pounding, finger pointing, vein bulging denial.

These allegations are totally, absolutely, unequivocally, false! It did not work. The next day, Second Runner dropped sharply in the polls. Slingin’ Sleaze was dominating the Presidential race.

During all the rest of the campaign, Sleaze drew upon the limitless depths of his depravity to keep up a drumbeat of charges against Front Runner and Second Runner. Most people were skeptical about the allegations against their candidate. But…but…Sleaze had raised a reasonable doubt.

Where there’s that much smoke there’s fire. Some reasoned.

Just one allegation could be a campaign attack, but with so many, there’s got to be something there. Others concluded.

Some argued, So what if my candidate had group sex or sex with little boys. What he does in his personal life is nobody’s business. This is not a character contest. It’s a political contest. It’s the issues that matter. Not character.

The filth Sleaze spewed into the Presidential campaign left masses of voters disgusted and suspicious. They dropped out of the election process and refused to vote for anybody.

No one noticed that Slingin’ Sleaze ignored candidate Robert Evil.

At the preplanned 30-days-to-election mark, Robert Evil used the huge sums of money pouring into his campaign to launch his media blitz. His campaign ads made no charges against the opponents. He also stayed away from any issues. Issues were poison.

His advertising barrage included the beautiful Jezzie and attached innocuous feel good phrases to a relentless repetition of his name and face. It was classic Pavlovian conditioning.

On Election Day voters knew Robert Evil’s name, his handsome, smiling face, and his practiced, polished on-camera charm. But not much else. His pleasant appearance in a dreadfully ugly campaign, along with a 100% vote from the secret MAD Men, and some fortuitous help from 4th candidate Slingin’ Sammy Sleaze, won the day.

Robert Evil got 37-percent. Front Runner came in at 36. Second Runner got 25. Slingin’ Sleaze, got more than he expected at 2-percent. He quickly disappeared back under the slime of pornography from which he had oozed to deceive the public and manipulate the election.

* * *

President Evil was still in a slow burn as he kept his eye on The Master of the Meeting, the big-eyed guy, off to the side of the room. He appeared to be watching for a long awaited cue to start The Meeting.

Who were these people who were keeping him seated alone at this small table simmering and waiting for The Meeting to start? He thought this waiting had to be intentional disrespect.

So…So...,he wondered, what’s going on here?

Then he realized, These people are not with the government, are they?


The Meeting

To Contents

The Directooor of the Easteeern Establishment! The Master of the Meeting announced with a warble and a grand flourish toward the dais. The Director marched in and stood behind the empty chair at the center of the table. Everyone on the dais stood in unison.

Novus Ordo Seclorum. The Director chanted in Latin.

Novus Ordo Seclorum. All chanted back.

The Master of the Meeting turned to President Evil. Mr. President, he said with a sweep of his arm toward the group. The Director of the Eastern Establishment and the Assistants of the Director.

The Director and The Assistants sat down in unison.

The Director spoke. Mr. President, we of the Eastern Establishment want for you the greatest of success in what we intend will be 8 years of your Presidency.

We intend? President Evil noted. What does that mean? He couldn’t make out The Director’s face in the severe backlighting, but the voice was distinctive. He couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman.

The Director continued without giving President Evil a chance to speak.

We, the Eastern Establishment, are the organization that conducts Culture War to bring Peace and Prosperity For EveryOne ForEver.The Assistants of The Director assembled on the dais will enlighten you as to why we conduct this war and how. But, first, we’ll talk about you and your role.

My role? President Evil scowled. Who do they think they are? I’m the President of the United States. I decide if I even have a role!

The Director ignored the scowl and called for the first speaker.

The Assistant of Selection will now Enlighten you.

The Assistant began speaking without the courtesy and respect of standing up to address the President.

Mr. President, I am going to reveal how we selected you to become President and got you into office.

WHAT? President Evil lurched in his chair. They’re taking credit for my success! He twisted to the side to contain himself and hold his silence. What kind of arrogance is this? I don’t believe this!

The Assistant of Selection gave President Evil a moment to calm down.

Mr. President, you do not know any of us in the Eastern Establishment. But we know you. I know you extremely well from my capacity as Assistant of Selection. On behalf of the Eastern Establishment, I have nurtured your personal and political advancement for over 25 years.

Nurtured me! What’s that supposed to mean? For 25 years? President Evil was insulted at the assertion of being nurtured. He wanted to protest, but he saw he was being compelled to listen to The Assistant.

"The Eastern Establishment plans years ahead. Each year we select 50 people, one from each state, between the ages of 16 and 22. These are our ‘selectees.’ We place them in our Eastern Universities where they learn to embrace our ideology.

All our ‘selectees’ are secretly nurtured for years, even decades. We eventually place them in key positions in the Eastern Universities. We also put them in the Eastern Media with its power to direct public opinion. And, we place them in Non-Profit Foundations to make the wealth of the Foundations available to us. Much of our money to operate comes through the Foundations.

We also have our selectees in the Hollywood and Entertainment industries that have the ability to shape attitudes. We have our selectees in the Courts, in Congress, in Cabinet positions, in the Education Department and through out the government departments. This gives us people in the crucial attitude shaping positions to carry out our ideology. This gives us the capability to conduct our Culture War."

The Assistant of Selection poured a glass of water from a carafe on the table, took a sip, and resumed.

Our selectees are not members of the Eastern Establishment and likely have never heard of us. But, through the selectees our influence and control is far greater than the actual membership you see gathered here today.

The Assistant began revealing how President Evil was personally nurtured.

It is always our goal through the decades of nurturing to get our selectee into the highest position, the Presidency. We selected you, Mr. President, in your last year of high school and sent you to Governor’s State. We chose you for your character. We also knew you were highly intelligent despite your lack of achievement. You were, of course, surprised when you were recruited into the prestigious Gavard University without even applying. We put you into Gavard.

President Evil grinned at the revelation. He had always wondered how he got into Governor’s State with mediocre grades and got into Gavard without applying.

"In your junior year at Gavard, we got you into the secret Tremont Order of SkullBone. We did this so you could develop life long contacts with other men and women devoted to our ideology.

You got your first job without applying for it when you were recruited by a Washington think-tank. I personally arranged that for you." The Assistant of Selection seemed proud of the achievement.

"Years later, 15 years later, you were encouraged to run for Governor while you were still unknown. That encouragement came through us. You even talked with our people in New York to solicit support for your campaign, although you did not know who they were.

In your first campaign, you were given no chance of beating the sitting Governor. Then, confidential records mysteriously came to you showing the Governor was using government funds to pay off his cronies. We got those records to you. To this day, I admire how you cleverly kept the records confidential and used them to persuade the Governor to claim he had cancer and drop out of the race.

He kept his reputation. You got his job. The Assistant of Selection laughed. All these years later, I can now congratulate you. Very cleverly done, Sir."

President Evil squirmed in his chair at all the private information these people knew about him. This was unsettling,

"In your Presidential bid, Mr. President, we arranged the big money that suddenly poured in and gave life to your campaign. We raised the money through our selectees in the wealthy Non-Profit Foundations.

And, the sudden Media shift to support you, we did that through our people in the New York Media.

Mr. President, we have been guiding you and nurturing you from high school through today."

Nurturing me? President Evil scowled to himself. I don’t need any nurturing from anybody. He bristled that they seemed to know his private information, including how he got rid of his first political opponent. To know all this, he thought, they’ve been around for a while. Not only that, but this meeting right here shows they have enough power to get the President of the United States to this secret…whatever this is.

The Assistant of Selection refreshed his glass and took a sip.

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