“I figured democracy had taken enough of my soul for the day, and it was time to go home to find out about what I had been missing. It seems as if we’ve had all sorts of fun in the last day or so.” I dropped my briefcase on the floor and loosened my tie, and sat down. Stormy promptly jumped into my lap and began slobbering all over my face. After a minute of this I pushed her away and looked over at my daughters. “Well, who wants to start?”
“Start?” asked Molly weakly.
“Yes, start. You know, start telling me about your drug dealing and prostitution. It’s Wednesday, so which is it for you?”
At that both of them started protesting their innocence and how they didn’t realize the cameras were going and how they weren’t into drugs or prostitution and how it wasn’t their fault but somebody else’s. Yadda, yadda, yadda! I looked over at their mother and rolled my eyes throughout all this; she covered her mouth with her hands and stifled the laughter.
After five minutes, by which time they were on their third rendition, I made the time-out sign and said, “Enough already! Quiet!”
“Dad, I mean, it just…” continued Holly.
“QUIET! That means you! I watched it on television today at the White House. You were the one who started this…” I turned to Molly. “… and you were the one who went along with her. You are both guilty! Now, I have to clean this up. The White House would like to see me offer you two up on an altar for human sacrifice. I almost agree with them!”
“Daddy!” they both squealed.
“QUIET! Now, for once in your lives I want you to listen to me! Reporters are not your friends! The cameras and the microphones are always on! From now on I want you two to stay away from reporters, like FOREVER! Start practicing the fine art of keeping your mouths SHUT! Are we clear on that?!” I said.
“Daddy!”
“ARE WE CLEAR ON THAT?!” I thundered.
“Yes, sir,” they replied, much more meekly.
“I let you two get away with a lot, but that is going to change. You have no idea how much trouble I am in over this idiocy. You two are staying home tonight to watch the news with me, all night if we have to. That is not open for discussion, by the way. Now, off to your room. I need to talk to your mother.” I made a shooing motion and they scampered out, followed by Stormy.
“Think you were a little rough with them?” asked Marilyn, smiling a touch.
I snorted. “Karl Rove wants Ari Fleischer to put out a press release stating I have disinherited the two of them and roasted them on a spit. Then we got into a shouting match in the middle of the West Wing. No, I don’t think I was all that rough on them. As it is, I am going to have to attend the press briefing tomorrow to sort this out.”
“I kind of liked the idea of them taking Sunday off as a day of rest,” she said, giggling.
“Yeah, so they can spend the other six days breaking the other nine commandments. Good idea, hun!” I glanced down the hallway. “What a clusterfuck. You need to make dinner tonight so I can watch the news.”
The news that night was just about as bad as I expected, maybe worse. We were the second segment on WBAL that night, right after a piece on a series of bank robberies in Highlandtown. Tonight was basically a repeat of the story from the other night, along with a summary of the national coverage the story had received, as well as some of the comments made by national commentators. After that we watched Tom Brokaw on the NBC Nightly News. It was also their second story, but almost as long as the first, and included the ‘controversial’ remarks made by Rush Limbaugh. Rush’s radio show ran from noon to 3 PM and today he had focused on my family. Earlier today, shortly after I had left the White House to fly home, Rush had called my daughters ‘miserable sluts’ and my wife a ‘stupid bimbo’ and an ‘unfit mother.’ Brokaw didn’t call my family names, but simply reported the insults as part of the story on Rush Limbaugh’s reaction. He also reported the official White House response, which was basically what Rove had told Fleischer to write.
At the end of the story they had shocked looks on their faces. Marilyn and I simply sent them off to their room. “How bad is this?” Marilyn asked me after they had left.
“Don’t worry. Tomorrow morning I plan to ram a few pine cones up some asses. I’ll take care of it.” I glanced back towards the girls’ bedroom. “Just tell them to watch what they say around reporters and cameras. Even with their friends if they have video cameras. You’ll never know what they are going to do.”
“I will, tomorrow.”
The morning press briefing was going to be at 11:30, and Ari Fleischer spent the morning with me. According to Ari, Rove had made him write the release after I left, and Rove was ‘super pissed’ at me. The press corps was waiting for us, and Ari thought that Rove had primed some of them to go after me. Ari Fleischer wasn’t all that much of a fan of me, but it was more because he didn’t need the extra aggravation this involved.
At 11:30 we marched into the press room, which was a surprisingly small and drab place, despite what it looked like on television. The lights and cameras were already on, and Ari simply stated that I had a statement to make. He stepped back and I took his place. It was time for my ‘apology’.
“Thank you. I’d like to apologize to the American people today. I am apologizing for the fact that for the last two days so much of your time has been taken up with this nonsense.” You could have heard a pin drop at that moment, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Ari Fleischer turning white. “Let me explain. My daughters don’t live in Washington. They live out in the real world…” I pointed towards the wall, and ultimately anywhere out there, and continued, “… and they have what is known in the real world as a sense of humor. A couple of days ago they made what normal people call a joke while hanging out with their friends. The rest of America understands what humor and jokes are, but here in Washington they don’t. So, I apologize to you. I promise to explain this to them and tell them that in the future, they are no longer allowed to have fun or friends, and they are no longer allowed to tell jokes. Any questions?”
Pandemonium broke out, with everybody and their brother jumping up and shouting out questions. I waited a few seconds and then put a finger to my lips and made “Ssshhhh!” sounds while using my other hand to direct them to sit down again. When they were sitting I said, “There, just like in the first grade. Raise your hands and wait your turn.” Everybody raised a hand, and I pointed to somebody on the left. I recognized the face but not the name, and knew he worked for CBS. I glanced down at the seating chart and saw it was John Roberts. I pointed to him and said, “John.”
Roberts stood up and asked, “So, your daughters aren’t really going to be selling drugs and becoming prostitutes?”
I stared at him for a second. “Are you for real? You’re kidding me, right? Sit down. No more silly questions. Next?” There was a stunned silence for a second when I told one of the ‘elite’ White House correspondents to sit down and shut up, but then another flurry of hands rose up. I decided to go with a woman this time, and found Campbell Brown from NBC. I pointed at her and said, “Campbell.”
“Vice President Buckman, you don’t think you should be subjected to the same scrutiny as other political figures?”
“Me? Sure, I’m fair game. My daughters? No, not at all. Now, it’s your network, not mine, but if you want to report on my ditzy daughters while they are goofing around with their pals, well, it’s your time and money, not mine.” I looked around and found a print reporter, Jim VandeHei of the Washington Post. “Jim.”