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White House Discipline

Friday, 2 February 2018

Dear Mr President,

This was sent to me by a leaker. It gives a very clear picture of how you view your relations with the press.

Scene: The White House Press Room. It’s past time for the Daily Snarl. But no one appears. The reporters are starting to fidget in their assigned seats, but afraid of being singled out for a special berating, none dares get up. There are whispers about a coup.

From somewhere Lena Horne is heard singing plaintively . . .

“Don’t know why,
There’s no sun up in the sky . . .”

The door opens slowly. An imposing figure sulks into the room, but not Sarah’s. A blonde coiffure, but not Donald’s. She is wearing leather (black) – a top (low), a skirt (short), boots (tall) with heels (taller). In her right hand she cuddles a riding crop.

– “It’s . . . it’s . . .” sputters CNN reporter, Jack Smacker. “Isn’t it?”

– “Jesus, yes!” ejaculates Christian Broadcasting’s Theophilus Hokum. “I’ve seen all of her . . . I mean, I’ve heard . . . actually, I don’t know.”

In the background,

“Life is bare,
Gloom and misery everywhere . . .”

– “Bare? Oh dear!” chokes PBS commentator Rick Mortus. “I can’t possibly . . . please, no tape! No tape!”

In a husky whisper, she murmurs, “The boss says y’all are gettin’ rowdy down here. He wants me to impose a little . . . “ she rubs the crop against the podium . . . “discipline.”

The riding crop taps lovingly on her boots. “Silence!” she purrs.

And there is silence.

In a husky whisper, she murmurs, “The boss says y’all are gettin’ rowdy down here. He wants me to impose a little . . . “ she rubs the crop against the podium . . . “discipline.”

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Gasps from the women, low moans from the men, but no one speaks.

– “So there’ll be no more questions. I’ll tell y’all what y’all need to know.”

– “Wait a minute, Ms . . . ?” demands Felicity Stiletto from The Beast. “What happened to Sarah?”

– “She went home to Daddy, Sugah. Did you miss my point about no questions?”

– “We get to ask questions! We’re reporters!”

– “Wrong. You get to record answers. Here’s the first one: ‘No collusion.’ And you’re tryin’ my patience, Sugah.”

Lena is heard once more, bringing tears to all eyes.

“Just can't get my poor self together
I'm weary all the time, . . .”

The crop slides from her hand. “Oh dear,” she coos.

As she bends over slowly the women shut their eyes. The men lean forward, eager to help. Then, crop in hand, she pouts her way to the door.

“All I do is pray the Lord above will let me
Walk in the sun once more . . .”

Hokum, cowed but scenting a soul in need, whimpers hoarsely, “I can help you with that ‘walking with the Lord’ business.”

At the door, she simpers. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll get new press passes. They require NDAs.”

dan-embree-17

“Yes, of course,” squeaks Trixie Krumpet, one of the Foxy Friends, “But where did you get those boots?”

Dan Embree

Received by the White House at 3:12 AM EST, 2 February 2018