Double-Agent

It began during the 2008 primary. I started getting solicitations from the McCain campaign. I would send back an empty envelop so they’d have to pay for the postage. But that didn’t matter. I continued receiving letters of thanks for my considerable contributions.

Clearly they had me confused with another Norm Levine…some wealthy and badly misguided mogul. I was his generic equivalent and we know about them, not-to-be-trusted.

I remain on the Republican mailing list. This must be how I was invited to their inner-circle meeting at an undisclosed located between Oklahoma and Wyoming. I was deep behind enemy lines in the company of Kochs.

I can report to you they are all in a frenzy. The dinner party guests, in mandatory golf shirts, almost ended in a food fight when a contingent of red-capped Trump henchmen threw caviar at some Dump-Trump Old Guard retro and they retaliated with oysters.

We all retired to the situation room and calmed down with Courvoisier and cigars and the strategy session began. An aborted threat to place favorite son candidates on every ballot was shouted down. The hope was that both Donald and Hillary would be denied the needed majority of electoral votes and the election decided by the Republican House of Reps.

Agreement was reached to throw our money with Trump and urge him to go nasty. Attack Hillary with his inexhaustible arsenal of insults. Nobody likes to see a woman go shrill and off the rails.  If that doesn’t work, make nice particularly when speaking before the PTA.

I had to rearrange my face in a constant sneer to blend in. I knew when I got the invite that my Ross-Dress-for -Less wardrobe would not do. I was forced to borrow clothes from my cousin. Fortunately I spotted a chair the same color chip as my shirt and I disappeared into the upholstery. 

The plan was to launch a 500 million dollar ad campaign against Bill showing clips of Monica, Genevieve Flowers and assorted bimbos with Hillary as the ultra-enabler. It could open with a giant zipper going down. 

I tried to wrestle the cell phone out of my shoe to record the strategy but the room was designed to scramble all messages. They called that the Romney maneuver.

Even the bullies concurred that Donald must never say anything of substance. Stay away from issues. No programs. No policy. Provoke, provoke, provoke. All blather, all the time. Keep her on the defense. 

By this time the Vulgarians had merged with the paleo-Conservatives. Everyone agreed with themselves.

The beast had been uncaged, now he must be fed. Stoke the anger. Stoke the fear. With a little luck a terrorist attack could occur. A sub-committee was assigned that task.

In a passionate plea by Sheldon Adelson the assembled were reminded that a White House takeover would win all three branches for a generation. And he was giving odds for this at his several casinos. He then said to get out our check books.

At this point the real, rich Norm Levine showed up. I disappeared in the cigar smoke, slithered away and finally scaled the wall….unlike that other wall which Canada may have to build to keep millions of Americans from seeking asylum.