You are President Jones. You are in the Amityville Horror, which is the codeword for the White House. You are here because you have given up on trying to escape. It might be Stockholm Syndrome. At least the place has good whiskey, food and TV.

As the President, you are expected to keep the wheels of industry turning by keeping them greased. And it doesn’t hurt if a little grease rubs off into your wallet either. So today, you’re going to be receiving a couple visitors who are the driving force behind those cogs and sprockets. It seems that they have an urgent problem and believe that you’re the guy to solve it. You do not have to be very bright to be a banker you guess.

Right on time, the intercom chimes and Brick House says, “Sir, your one o’clock is ready, Mr. Blank…”

“Brick?…” She really hates the codewords.

“Thurston Howell the Third and J.R. Ewing are here to see you, sir.”

It amazes you how she can enunciate so well without ever unclenching her teeth. “Please, send them in.”

The door opens and a couple of guys enter. They seem like ordinary rich people, but you know, in fact, that they are the people who actually run the Earth. Yes, kids, there are jobs even worse than being President. You usher them to the couch while Brick House gets them a couple of drinks. Continue reading →