As we learned last week, Betty Sue Pudding, First Lady Extraordinary, wanted to redecorate the White House. Give it that Weazel Sneaze look. When she went to the President and told The Great Man that she needed fifty million to do the do, he saw that as reasonable request. “We’ll take it out of petty cash.”
“No can do,” his Chief of Staff said. “We don’t have any money. And Congress isn’t giving us any either.”
As I said then, this was the horns of a dilemma. But The Great Man thought, “Nothing a president can’t solve.”
So he called in his Cabinet and asked for suggestions.
“There’s just one thing we can do. We’ll sell Mississippi,” the Secretary of the Interior declared. “It’s river front property and they’re not doing anything with it down there.”
“To whom?” Secretary of State asked. “I mean who should we sell it too?”
“We could sell it to China,” Defense interjected. He loved to interject, so he did it all the time. “They already have a lot of our money, making a lot of those thing-a-majigs.”
“The Big Guy tried that,” State informed everybody. “China doesn’t want it. They have their own Mississippi. In fact, they have about five Mississippis.”
“How about Russia?” Energy said. He hated to be left out. “I hear the Russian Premier has been looking for a summer home. Mississippi would be perfect for that.”
“Can you imagine a Russian Premier saying, ‘Y’allski’,” Defense again. “I don’t think so. Besides they don’t have the money. They can’t even afford that mess they did in Crimea.”
“Cry me a river?” The Great Man asked.
“No,” the Chief of Staff said. “Crimea Peninsula.”
“England? We could sell it to England,” Betty Sue chipped in all excited-like. “I love the English. All that fish and chips and rahther. Bowing before the Queen. And that Prince Charles. He’s just the handsomest. Don’t you think so?”
“Just what does a Prince do?” The Great Man wanted to know. After all, he should know. He was President and he should know things.
“Waiting for Mommy to die,” the Chief of Staff offered.
“But what’s his job?” The President asked again.
“That’s his job,” State liked questions like this. Easy ones. “Wait for Mommy to die. Let’s just say that he’s like the Vice President.”
“Oh,” the President said. “So what are we going to do about Mississippi?”
“We’ll rent it out to Canada” Betty Sue Pudding said. Amazing how many bright ideas she had. And all in one day. “For all the snowbirds.”
The Cabinet was really impressed. Betty Sue Pudding was a bright lady. So any screw-up the pig farmer might do, she’d fix. They applauded, then rose from their seats and exited. They were glad to get out of there. The seats were hard as rocks. One Cabinet member always left saying, “My butt hurts.” Usually it was the new guy. Since most of them were newbies, there was a chorus of, “My butt hurts.”
This was the reason the Cabinet was in favor of the redecoratin’. They were hoping for some comfortable chairs.
The President picked up the Venetian Red Phone, then realized that was for the Italians. He set it back into its bed. Then went for Vermilion Red Phone. The Chief of Staff was amazed that the President knew exactly which Red Phone was the right one for Canada.
The Personal Secretary of the Prime Minister of Canada answered. He said, “Hold on, Mr. President sir.” His hands were shaking. It was the new President of the United States. The President of the United States never called the Prime Minister of Canada. It hadn’t been done in over…well, over a long time. Since that Iraq thing, at least. He put the President on hold and ran to get the Prime Minister.
The P.S. said to the P.M, “Sir, sir.” The P M ignored his P S. He did that a lot. After all, he had gotten tired of his P S running to him to tell him that it was snowing. It was Canada. It was always snowing.
“Sir, the President is on hold for you.”
“The President? Which President?”
“That President,” P S said, frantic-like.
“You put the President of the United States on hold? You idiot. This is bad. Really bad. We never put the President of the United States on hold. That’s like putting the Queen on hold. You know how she gets.”
Whatever he was doing, and being the Prime Minister of Canada, he may have been doing just about anything. At that particular moment, he had been peeking out the curtains, admiring the snow that was always coming down.
He quit that and ran to the phone. He picked it up and pressed the Un-hold button. “Mr. President,” his voice was out of breath. “I’ve been meaning to call you but I’ve been so busy. It’s the snow. It is always in need of watching.”
The Great Man just laughed. “I’ve never seen snow. Maybe I should come up and see your snow.”
“Please do,” the P M responded. “Canada has the most unique snow in the world. We should build a pipeline through the United States and ship it out to countries that don’t have snow.”
“We could do that,” the President negotiated. “It would be good for jobs.” The Great Man liked this guy. He could tell that Canada and the United States were going to get along just fine.
This Snow Pipeline would be a win-win for everybody. Jobs for Americans. Getting rid of some snow for Canada. And giving the snow-less countries snow. It would really make their Christmases. And kids who had never seen snow before was about to get to see snow. It could create a whole new industry. The Snow Ice Cream Industry. It was definitely a win-win-win.
Next Week Mississippi Or Bust