They didn't come in tanks this time, and they didn't bring cigarettes or nylons, but they were cheered nonetheless. Soldiers without uniforms, community fighters, partisan organizers. Even those who had profited mightily by their collaboration with the Interim Government expressed joy and relief. The old leader's lieutenants, hunkering in buildings guarded by metal detectors, no longer issued orders or directives or regulations. The one referred to by the populace as Baby G left without fanfare on a foreign trip; no one noticed he was gone. Nor that he had returned. Eight years after the coup that brought him to power, it was all but over.
Plans were announced for a formal transfer of authority, but it was quickly clear that the new leader was already in charge. He held news conferences and appointed his own lieutenants. He even spoke in complete sentences, which confused his enemies. Foreign dignitaries bowed and scraped; the palefaced president of Italy, jealous, even called him TO, the Tanned One.
To gain power, the Tanned One had fought a series of duels. First against his own partisans, then against Baby G's anointed successor. He vanquished them all, and his partisans, unable to celebrate his victory with cigarettes, allowed themselves the simple human emotion of relief. The vanquished, for their part, resorted to distilled spirits.
It had been a long eight years. Baby G's friends and associates had amassed unimaginable riches while squandering lives and treasure in a distant desert. Dissent was suppressed, phones were tapped, travel was made increasingly uncomfortable by a new army of safety goons. The nation's business, booming at first, slowed to a crawl. The Earl of Enron collapsed first. Then the Dukes of Detroit complained no one would buy their cars. The Barons of Wall Street, having run out of real money to steal, made up imaginary contracts and sold them to each other. When that stopped working, there was no more money at all.
Fortunately, there were still turkeys. The leader of the turkeys made an impassioned speech, asking for self-sacrifice. Noble birds, they went to their fate without complaint. A far, far better thing than they had ever done.
Cross-posted on Daily Kos
The International Kitchen
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