Our Post-Racial Paradise: A Play in One Dreamy Act.

(H/T to Garychapelhill for the title)

THE SCENE: President Barack Obama’s Oval Office. A wall with a computerized panel and a door occupies center stage left, and the office occupies the remainder of the stage.

The decor of the office has totally changed. The drapes around the room are now printed with the Obama faux-presidential seal. Everywhere are pictures of President Obama, looking saintly and generous. There is also a picture of Michelle and the kids, but it is much smaller and less prominently placed. The American Flag has been redesigned; in the center of the field where the stars were is now a picture of Our Dear Leader.

The man himself sits behind the desk in the Oval Office, garbed in spotless white robes. Above his head, a sign reads “President Barack Obama” in large, elegant letters. He is in deep meditation, or perhaps, is sleeping off the effects of too much “holy water” the night before.

BILL BURTON, Barack Obama’s now Chief of Staff, appears at the door. The door speaks in a pleasant, female, robotic voice.

DOOR: Please enter your permanent password.

(BURTON enters a few numbers on the keypad.)

DOOR: Please speak your name.

BURTON: William Burton.

DOOR: Voiceprint authorized. Please state today’s password.

BURTON: Ummmmm…Obama is the greatest president that was, is, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen?

DOOR: Password expired. Please state today’s password.

BURTON: Ummmmm…(pulls out an iPhone, checks it, smiles) All hail Barack Obama, President Extraordinaire and really awesomely cool dude?

DOOR: Password accepted. (BURTON enters the Oval Office. OBAMA opens his eyes calmly.)

OBAMA: Good morning, Bill.

BURTON: Morning, Mr. President!

OBAMA: Please, sit down. (BURTON does so.) Now, what’s on your mind, Bill?

BURTON: Well, it’s this “New Racism Handbook” we published last week. Even though our NBC affiliates are over the moon about it, I’ve been hearing a lot of complaints in the (using air quotes) “blogosphere.”

OBAMA (frowning): Really? I thought those guys loved me.

BURTON: Oh, most of them do, sir! But some of them are saying that 10,000 forbidden words are too hard to remember. Words like “arrogant” and “presumptuous” are easy, but some of the scientists are protesting about changing the term “black hole” to “lightwardly challenged hole.” And making public racism a crime! They are really not on board with that one.

OBAMA (smiling): Oh, that’s okay, Bill. Let me tell you a bit more about my master plan. (getting up and striding commandingly around the room) You see, I wanted to take the troops out of Iraq and transfer them directly to Afghanistan to continue fighting there. But, it turns out, they’re already so exhausted from their fourth and fifth tours, they were useless to us. Our mission in Afghanistan, whatever it is, cannot succeed this way. We need more bodies, but Blackwater keeps raising its prices. It’s a tough situation.

BURTON: Sounds tough, Mr. President!

OBAMA: So, here’s what I’m thinking: No one can possibly remember all 10,000 words. We’ll use the warrantless wiretapping George and Dick set up to spy on people and catch them for the crime of public racism. Then, I’ll offer them a choice: do prison time, or join the Army. We’ll be up to quota in no time, and we can keep sending soldiers over to Afghanistan for 8-10 years, or whenever our mission is completed, whichever comes first! And best of all, no draft! (OBAMA smiles triumphantly, waiting for BURTON’s praise)

BURTON (a little late): That’s brilliant, Mr. President!

OBAMA: Isn’t it? It was all my idea, of course. Now, why don’t you go work with Axelrod and Plouffe today. They’re hiring a bunch of racism-spotters, and they could use some help.

BURTON: Yessir, Mr. President! (bustles off importantly)

(From behind a curtain, NANCY PELOSI, HOWARD DEAN and DONNA BRAZILE step forward.)

PELOSI: Oh, Barack. You told him this was your idea?

(OBAMA sits down, a bit petulantly.)

OBAMA: Well, shit, Nancy, I can’t let my people know you guys are telling me what to do. They believe in me! I am The One!

BRAZILE (soothingly): Of course you are, Barack honey. You just keep doing what you’re doing.

DEAN: That’s right, Barack. Everything’s going exactly the way we planned it.

(Suddenly, the scene dissolves. We see HILLARY and BILL CLINTON in their bedroom in New York. It’s decorated in traditional American style, with rich colors and fabrics. HILLARY is sitting up in bed, terrified and breathing hard. She is wearing silk pajamas. BILL is wearing a matching pair of pajamas. He stirs awake.)

BILL: Hillary – what’s the matter?

HILLARY: Oh, Bill – I had the most awful dream!

BILL (sighing): President Obama again?

HILLARY: Bill, this one was really terrible. It was about –

BILL (impatiently): Honey, if you’re ever going to get a good night’s sleep again, you know what you have to do.

HILLARY (coming to a decision): Dammit Bill, you’re right. I’m putting my name in nomination at the Convention. Screw the Party and screw their staged withdrawal. I’m in it to win it!

BILL: Attagirl! (They hug.) Now, about my Supreme Court nomination…

(HILLARY laughs her trademark belly laugh.

LIGHTS OUT.)

Cross-posted at The Confluence

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One response to “Our Post-Racial Paradise: A Play in One Dreamy Act.

  1. sister of ye

    Oooo! The Big Dawg on SCOTUS! From your keyboard to Any Divine-Type Powers Who May Be Listening.

    I hope someone, somewhere, is sending Hillary your mini-plays, and that she’s enjoying them as much as the rest of us.