Z-anon-sensei Speaks #62
“The technology of the railway gave us the myth of a green pasture world of innocence…. It gave us darkest suburbia and its lasting symbol: the lawnmower.” Marshall McLuhan
William Aaron Burr feels a headache coming on, and that headache has a name. And an orange face. Ary Burr is pretty busy these days, and it’s just annoying when Thump drags him along to photo ops like Kenosha, WI. Just what he needs is to go stand next to a pile of burned out garbage. No, not Thump, that store that got looted. But he chuckles at the idea. Such bullshit he has to put up with. He has much more important things to do: laying the legal groundwork for the takeover of the US government, for one. Prepping the big list of October Surprise prosecutions of Thump’s enemies is also a real doozy right now, as the list of prosecutions Thump wants him to pursue just grows by the day. Thump’s enemies list is longer than the Bible.
And now, of all things, Chard Wolfe-at-the-door has got him caught up in legal proceedings about the immigrant kids thing. The Achilles heel, Burr thinks, the chink in the armor, the weakest link. Why do they need them so much, to take such chances? There is just no good that can come of all this, and Burr sees that he is going to have to dedicate a lot of energy to covering it up, which will distract him from his preparations for October and November. Damn, he thinks, they had other ways of doing these things, back in the glory days of the first Bash administration. Even the kid Bash was more careful. Now, his OD superiors have given Burr a straightforward order to completely black box this whole story, urgent priority. But Burr is afraid this cat is already out of the box. Burr has opposed the use of contractors by DHS from the beginning, for security reasons more than quality control. He’s already had to clean up a few messes and leaks by the ^swampwater boys Wolfe keeps sending around the country to beat and kidnap people.
Burr finds himself caught in a sudden, overwhelming nostalgia for when spies were spies and corporate jerks were just that. Not Pretendidents, and never his boss. This fool Thump is nothing like the efficient and discrete senior Bash. Those were the days. He sighs a deep sigh, and then slaps himself across the cheek, twice, hard enough to sting, though he’s careful as always not to leave a mark. Just a reminder, he tells himself, in a voice that would sound a lot like his first cardinal’s voice if he said the words out loud. Give up, let go, and do what you are told.
And he will.
“Keeping kids in hotels circumvents federal anti-trafficking laws and a 2-decade-old court settlement.“