Outsourced Intelligence

NEW ORLEANS, United States (AFP) -
"What I was referring to is this: When that storm came by, a lot of people said we dodged a bullet," Bush said.

"And I myself thought we had dodged a bullet. You know why? Because I was listening to people probably over the airwaves say, 'The bullet has been dodged.' And that was what I was referring to," he said.

Sunday afternoon, White House situation room:

Bush: "Well it looks like that Katrina, Tina, Tinker Tina has all run out o' gas. What d'ya got?"

CIA: "We've been carefully monitoring Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network and I'm afraid we've come up empty.

Bush: "Some of them Sponge Bobs might just come in handy, heh, heh."

CIA: "Good one, sir."

NSA: "Fox News says New Orleans dodged a bullet, the hurricane should have no effect on the Natalie Holloway story, and apparently sir you are still a frickin genius."

Bush: "Aw, shucks. Dickie?"

Chenney: "Current estimates range anywhere from 2 to 14 billion dollars."

Bush: "Estimates of what?"

Chenney: "The amount of money we can funnel to Halliburtun in the form of disaster relief."

Bush: "I see."

Chenney: "It does depend somewhat on the size of the actual disaster, of course."

Bush: "Anyone else?"

FBI: "We've been carefully monitoring the Weather Channel and the Sci Fi Network and we believe the south is in much bigger danger from radio active alligators and a alien androids made to look like humans than any storm."

Bush: "Got that from the Weather Channel, did ya?"

FBI: "No, sir. We'll be looking at that real soon now. Our agents just find weather a little too boring, sir. I believe Special Agent McMorris just lost the coin flip so he should be reporting back on this in the next few days."

Mike Brown: "It looks like a couple of races in Kentucky and Tennessee might have to be delayed, but we're carefully monitoring the situation."

Bush: "Races?"

Mike Brown: "Horse races, sir. Can't run them in the rain, you know."

Bush: "Right. Hey, didn't some of y'all used to have agents and informants scattered around? You know, looking at things for themselves and reporting back? I reckon I remember something about hollow shoes and really small fish..."

[Embarrassed silence. A couple of feet tap.]

Bush: "Tiny satellite radios?"

[A soft whistling can be heard.]

Bush: "How about friends and relatives you could call?"

[Shuffling papers. Nervous coughs.]

Bush: "Very well then. Beer and bratts at 5:00. Keep up the good work."

A Martini for Dave

In my weekly martini, okay sometimes biweekly, I am a traditionalist. I have tried sour apple, orange, dirty, mint, and even Girl Scout (not made with real Girl Scouts). They are all right and in the proper mood sometimes they even tickle the very spot. However, I believe they are largely a fad and long after sour apples are deemed fit only for pie people will return to the one true martini: lota gin, smidgen of vermouth, shake the begeebers out of it with ice, and decant into a glass with two or three pimento stuffed olives. The number of olives is the one area where I feel a degree of personal expression can safely be allowed. This was my view until last night. We were at our favorite pizza spot, Proto's, when a martini crossed my line of vision. It was the color of a late sunset and looked for all the world like those foo-foo, fake martinis that I habitually ignore. But something about it was different. Perhaps it was the color or perhaps it was the way he olive spoke to me at it passed "Get a load of me, meatbag."

"What was that?" I asked.

Our super terrific server replied, "You don't know?! That's our Sicilian Martini. It was practically invented with you in mind." This is not just words, mind you. She knows me well enough to be a good judge of such things.

"Well, bring it on then."

A Sicilian is vodka (any kind -- ethanol and water is always ethanol and water and anyone who says otherwise has way too much money and should give some of it to me), a splash of Bloody Mary mix, and, be still my heart, an anchovy-stuffed olive. Words cannot do justice to the flavor of skin-removing liquor combined a truly intense vegetable melange and infused with the all that is holy about the ocean. It is all but one of my favorite foods served up in a wildly impractical glass. If I could just figure out a way to work some beef into it I would have a great start to my very own diet sensation! People would order these by the gross because my book would tell them to, but would be unable to drink them because no one other than myself and the mysterious woman in the thick glasses who ordered one last night can stomach the thought of one. I would have it all: book royalties and enough left-over Sicilian Martinis to allow me to forget the shame of duping the American public for fun and profit.