WHY ONE MINUTE RETALIATIONS WORK
There are several reasons why the
One Minute
Retaliation works so well," the
President said. "To begin with: everybody's read Norman Mailer, and you know
what he said."
The young man nodded and smiled, hoping the President didn't really expect him to recite what Norman Mailer said, especially since he had no idea who he was.
"I was born; I suffer; I am guilty," the President went on, "that's what Mailer said."
The young man wrinkled his eyebrows, not because he doubted what the President was saying but rather because his mother had taught him it was impolite to ask where the restroom was, especially at the Presidential level.
"Or if it wasn't Mailer," the President added, eyeing the young man closely, "it was someone else. Do you see what I'm driving at?"
"Of course," said the young man, closing his eyes, "you're onto an eagle on the fourth hole in Augusta during the Masters. You're twelve under par, playing in a foursome with Larry, Moe, and Curly."
"You're a fast learner," the President said.
"I've had a good teacher," the young man smiled, "but I still don't see what this has to do with One Minute Retaliations."
"I was getting to that," the President said as he stepped from behind the podium and approached the young man, holding a fan of Tally-Ho's in his left hand, "Pick a card, any card."
Mildly amused, the young man picked the Jack of Spades as the President said, "Now don't tell me what card you've picked. Just put it in the stack and shuffle the cards carefully."
The young man did as he was told, giving the deck back to the President when he was through.
"Do you remember what your card was?" the President asked, winking at the young man, who nodded and watched the President's hands as he cut the cards several times and finally held the Deuce of Clubs up, saying: "Because this is your card."
The young man laughed and said: "Sorry, sir, but I picked the Jack of Spades."
The President smiled, reached inside his suit jacket and produced a .44 magnum revolver which he pointed at the young man's head.
"Now wait a second," the young man stammered, "What's all this about?"
"You picked the wrong card," the President explained, "but let me stress I have nothing against you personally, and I still value the fact that you are an inquisitive and ambitious young man who knows what's going on. Let's try it again, shall we?"
"But I…,"
"Then don't pick another card." the President said, cocking the hammer, "Go ahead. Make my day."
Trembling, the young man managed to pick the Queen of Hearts. He shuffled the deck and handed it back to the President.
"Think you've got the hang of it yet?" the President asked, cutting the deck several times. "Well, I hope so, because this," he said, holding up the Six of Diamonds, "is your card."
The young man sat stunned for a second before he exclaimed: "Amazing!" grinning and nodding furiously. "How did you do that?"
"Practice," the President smiled, "and a whole lot of wishing. Of course, it certainly helps when you're able to flex your muscles and get off a few good rounds now and then, but there's always ample opportunity for that sort of thing," and the President returned the gun to his suit pocket. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"A little nauseous," said the young man, "but it's an enlightened nausea."
"Good, good," the President said. "Explaining why One Minute Retaliations work has always been an exhilarating experience for me, second only to an actual retaliation itself. As for the thrill of being on the receiving end of a One Minute Retaliation, well, you can put that in your own words."
"I'd rather not."
"Well put," said the President. "But you have to admit it's one hell of a pretense."
"It certainly is," the young man admitted.
"Look at it this way," the President smiled, "If you can threaten enough people with force rather than words, you can eventually end up doing anything you want any time, any place, and for any reason. And when you can do whatever you want, you can say whatever you want. It's virtually endless."
"I believe you," the young man shrugged, "You've got the gun."
"That's right," the President continued, "but it's more than just having the gun. The major problem in the world today is the same as it's ever been. Nobody wants to die. Take me. I'm certainly not getting any younger, although I wouldn't bet against it. But every weekend I fly to the ranch to chop wood and ride horses and rope a few doggies just so I can keep on living. Why do you think I do this?"
"Because the country would be lost without you?"
"Not bad," said the President, "but there are those who claim the only reason anyone keeps himself alive is that death doesn't seem particularly interesting. Even Mark Twain used to say that if the good life in heaven is like the good life here on earth, who needs it?
"What's more," the President continued, "some people think existence is absurd, that life is meaningless, and death is what makes it meaningless, so they continue to live in order to give their lives some meaning. Other people think life is an initiation ritual to prepare the chosen for the promised land, so they continue to suffer as long as they can so they'll be assured the best seats at that great Beach Boys concert in the sky. But most people stay alive because they simply don't have enough guts to kill themselves."
"I never heard it put that way before," the young man said, nodding his head, "but it makes perfectly good sense, hearing you say it."
"Of course you didn't, and of course it does," said the President, "and today the situation is even graver than we suspect. Do you realize that there are nearly five billion people on this planet that really need to kill themselves but don't have what it takes to do the job?"
"I had no idea."
"Well, it's true," said the President, "Here. Take a look at this," and he pulled the familiar device from his pocket, and another Presidential aphorism appeared on the screen.
The young man nodded and smiled, hoping the President didn't really expect him to recite what Norman Mailer said, especially since he had no idea who he was.
"I was born; I suffer; I am guilty," the President went on, "that's what Mailer said."
The young man wrinkled his eyebrows, not because he doubted what the President was saying but rather because his mother had taught him it was impolite to ask where the restroom was, especially at the Presidential level.
"Or if it wasn't Mailer," the President added, eyeing the young man closely, "it was someone else. Do you see what I'm driving at?"
"Of course," said the young man, closing his eyes, "you're onto an eagle on the fourth hole in Augusta during the Masters. You're twelve under par, playing in a foursome with Larry, Moe, and Curly."
"You're a fast learner," the President said.
"I've had a good teacher," the young man smiled, "but I still don't see what this has to do with One Minute Retaliations."
"I was getting to that," the President said as he stepped from behind the podium and approached the young man, holding a fan of Tally-Ho's in his left hand, "Pick a card, any card."
Mildly amused, the young man picked the Jack of Spades as the President said, "Now don't tell me what card you've picked. Just put it in the stack and shuffle the cards carefully."
The young man did as he was told, giving the deck back to the President when he was through.
"Do you remember what your card was?" the President asked, winking at the young man, who nodded and watched the President's hands as he cut the cards several times and finally held the Deuce of Clubs up, saying: "Because this is your card."
The young man laughed and said: "Sorry, sir, but I picked the Jack of Spades."
The President smiled, reached inside his suit jacket and produced a .44 magnum revolver which he pointed at the young man's head.
"Now wait a second," the young man stammered, "What's all this about?"
"You picked the wrong card," the President explained, "but let me stress I have nothing against you personally, and I still value the fact that you are an inquisitive and ambitious young man who knows what's going on. Let's try it again, shall we?"
"But I…,"
"Then don't pick another card." the President said, cocking the hammer, "Go ahead. Make my day."
Trembling, the young man managed to pick the Queen of Hearts. He shuffled the deck and handed it back to the President.
"Think you've got the hang of it yet?" the President asked, cutting the deck several times. "Well, I hope so, because this," he said, holding up the Six of Diamonds, "is your card."
The young man sat stunned for a second before he exclaimed: "Amazing!" grinning and nodding furiously. "How did you do that?"
"Practice," the President smiled, "and a whole lot of wishing. Of course, it certainly helps when you're able to flex your muscles and get off a few good rounds now and then, but there's always ample opportunity for that sort of thing," and the President returned the gun to his suit pocket. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"A little nauseous," said the young man, "but it's an enlightened nausea."
"Good, good," the President said. "Explaining why One Minute Retaliations work has always been an exhilarating experience for me, second only to an actual retaliation itself. As for the thrill of being on the receiving end of a One Minute Retaliation, well, you can put that in your own words."
"I'd rather not."
"Well put," said the President. "But you have to admit it's one hell of a pretense."
"It certainly is," the young man admitted.
"Look at it this way," the President smiled, "If you can threaten enough people with force rather than words, you can eventually end up doing anything you want any time, any place, and for any reason. And when you can do whatever you want, you can say whatever you want. It's virtually endless."
"I believe you," the young man shrugged, "You've got the gun."
"That's right," the President continued, "but it's more than just having the gun. The major problem in the world today is the same as it's ever been. Nobody wants to die. Take me. I'm certainly not getting any younger, although I wouldn't bet against it. But every weekend I fly to the ranch to chop wood and ride horses and rope a few doggies just so I can keep on living. Why do you think I do this?"
"Because the country would be lost without you?"
"Not bad," said the President, "but there are those who claim the only reason anyone keeps himself alive is that death doesn't seem particularly interesting. Even Mark Twain used to say that if the good life in heaven is like the good life here on earth, who needs it?
"What's more," the President continued, "some people think existence is absurd, that life is meaningless, and death is what makes it meaningless, so they continue to live in order to give their lives some meaning. Other people think life is an initiation ritual to prepare the chosen for the promised land, so they continue to suffer as long as they can so they'll be assured the best seats at that great Beach Boys concert in the sky. But most people stay alive because they simply don't have enough guts to kill themselves."
"I never heard it put that way before," the young man said, nodding his head, "but it makes perfectly good sense, hearing you say it."
"Of course you didn't, and of course it does," said the President, "and today the situation is even graver than we suspect. Do you realize that there are nearly five billion people on this planet that really need to kill themselves but don't have what it takes to do the job?"
"I had no idea."
"Well, it's true," said the President, "Here. Take a look at this," and he pulled the familiar device from his pocket, and another Presidential aphorism appeared on the screen.
"If you remember that you are in charge,
and not merely an elected official," the President concluded, "you'll do
okay."
"That doesn't seem to follow," the young man said.
"I'm pleased to see you got my message, young man. You will have success with the One Minute Retaliation only after you have mastered the POF Principle and the habit of self-enrichment."
"Yes, of course I will, and of course I must," the young man butted in, "But that reminds me, I've made up a little saying of my own to remind me how Wishes, and their consequences—Gladhands and Retaliations—can help me get what I want in the shortest possible time."
"That doesn't seem to follow," the young man said.
"I'm pleased to see you got my message, young man. You will have success with the One Minute Retaliation only after you have mastered the POF Principle and the habit of self-enrichment."
"Yes, of course I will, and of course I must," the young man butted in, "But that reminds me, I've made up a little saying of my own to remind me how Wishes, and their consequences—Gladhands and Retaliations—can help me get what I want in the shortest possible time."
"That's very good!" the President exclaimed.
"Do you really think so?" the young man asked, not wanting to admit he had copied the words from a third-grade silent reader he'd found in a used book store the evening before.
"Young man," the President said very slowly, tapping his suit pocket for emphasis, "would you like the play the game again?"
Just when he thought he would get Gladhanded, the young man felt he was in for another Retaliation, something he would really rather avoid.
"Do I have to?"
"No question about it," the President said. "But not today," he winked, and the young man thought he might wet himself he was so relieved.
"You know, young man," the President continued, turning to stare at his favorite blank wall, "You've demonstrated for me a certain flair for words on several occasions, although I can't now name the first one. And I should know."
"You certainly should."
"And since I like you, I'm willing to stick part of my neck out for you," the President said, still staring at the wall. "How would you like to become one of my speech-writers?"
The young man put down his notebook and gaped in astonishment at the President's back. "You mean and go to work for the nicest guy anyone would ever want to meet?"
"It's a foot in the door," said the President.
"And all I've got to do is keep on doing whatever it is I'm doing?"
"Like the rest of the team."
This was, of course, what the young man had been searching for all his life. He was overcome by the moment. "I…I don't know what to say," he finally said.
"Spoken like a real trouper," the One Minute President said, without turning around. "And for someone who's just been hired to put words in my mouth, I'd say you're already showing great promise." And with that, the President produced his device and clicked it three times.
Suddenly, the office went completely black, and the young man found himself sitting in the sofa chair feeling strangely alone. Everything was so dark and quiet that he momentarily wondered if he hadn't suffered a stroke.
But this lasted no more than a few seconds, for, just as suddenly, the huge video screen burst alive, illuminating the office in white light. There, up on the screen in front of him was the enormous face of the One Minute President, dwarfing the young man's presence like a front-row moviegoer whose eyes have been permanently wired open.
"Welcome aboard," smiled the image of the President.
And the young man proudly smiled back. "It's an honor, sir. I'm thrilled."
"Of course it is, and of course you are," the President's image agreed. "And until we meet again—if ever—this is goodbye and auf wiedersehen."
"But…"
"No more ifs, ands, buts or maybes, young man," the President said, tapping his suit pocket for emphasis. "This is it."
And so it was—until the old geezer died.
But what little time the special President had invested in the young man paid off. Because eventually, as happens in so many American fairy tales, the inevitable happened.
Posted: Tue - March 17, 1987 at 09:01 PM
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