The Breakfast Club, part 3: Dugan Bag

Here comes my helicopter now, John. Ready to get going? Our shuttle shouldn't take much longer than twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes? That's probably not even long enough for cocktail service, is it? I've got to hand it to you, Mister Blankfein, you really no how to travel in style.

Indeed I do. Now here, take this bag. You're going to need it once we get up in the air.

Oh, thanks, but I'm not going to need a bag. I've done far too much flying to worry about getting airsick.

Heh. It's not for your barf, Mister Boehner, it's for your head. The location of where we're going is very much a secret.

You want me to put a bag over my head. Do you know how ridiculous that will make me look?

You will not. It's a Dugan Bag. Very stylish, very expensive. Just take a look at this baby.

Don't you roll your eyes at me, Boehner. You will put this bag on your head and you will like it. You will like it very very much.

Earlier that morning...

I don't know, Debbie, there's something fishy going on and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. Mister Murdoch and Beck and Newt... Wait, there's Mister Murdoch now! Follow that car, Debbie!

You mean the silver Mercedes? That's a black guy, Sarah.

That must be his driver. Go, Debbie, go, drive like the wind... Left, go left, no right, they're pulling onto Santa Monica... honk your horn, Debbie... Oh jeez, Debbie, can't you drive? You just missed the freakin turn!

I didn't miss it, Sarah, I'm cutting up 23rd. We should intersect with them about five blocks up on Delahurst... Oh, there they are now... Uh oh, the light's changing...

Run the friggin red light, Debbie... Left, they're getting on the parkway... Faster, Debbie... Honk! I think they see us... No, they're speeding up... Just blow right through the toll, Debbie, we don't have time for change... What? They just crossed over the median strip... They're going the other way! Turn around, Debbie, turn around... Oh no, we're losing them! Crap, Debbie, can't you do anything right?

Hey!... I'm pulling into that Krispy Kreme until you can calm yourself down.

Okay, fine... Mind picking me up a cruller, Debbie? And a small coffee with cream.

Morning, Mister Robertson. Goodness gracious, Mister Robinson, I sure don't understand how you can see well enough to cook in here. I'm going to turn the lights on.

To tell you the truth, Maureen, I'll bet you I could make my Age Defying Protein Pancakes by the light of a single candle.

I'll just bet you could. Say, that's a fancy new piece of kitchen finery you've got there. What is it?

That is my brand new Breakfast Club P24 pancake mixer and pourer. You can make up to 24 perfect little pancakes at a time. See, it moves up and down on the griddle on these little wheels.

How exciting! What are you doing in here making pancakes in the dark, anyway?

Well, Newt and his people are coming over pretty early. Sure wish I knew what this was all about. And... I needed a little time for prayer. You know, I'm still so upset about that Glenn Beck, preaching the Gospel to all those people, I don't even know if I want him in my house. I know that's not very Christian, but then neither is Beck. Damn Mormons, and I mean that literally.

Can you get that, Maureen? And then man the door. Sorry, but I'm afraid it's another private breakfast. I'm going to go up and change clothes...

Well hellllo, gorgeous. It's Maureen, right? Top of the morning to you. Maureen, this is a friend of mine that's going to be working with us. I'd like you to meet...

No need for introductions, Mister Gingrich. Mister Rove has been here before.

I sure have, Maureen. That's why I can say without hesitation that I smell pancakes!

Get that, would you Maureen? We're hitting the kitchen. Honestly, Rove, I don't know how you can smell pancakes over the fragrant aroma of those luscious li'l links.

Hello, Newt. And I wasn't expecting to see you here, Mister Rove.

Expect the unexpected, Glenn. And just call him Turd Blossom. Everybody else does.

Yeah, I've kinda gotten used to it over the years, but I sure wish I could have gotten one of those cool nicknames, like Big Daddy or Stretch. How did you get the nickname Lonesome Rhodes, Beck?

It's a long story, Turd Blossom. I used to... Oh. Oh, sorry. You all were kidding about using that name, weren't you? Sorry. Anyway, I used to hate that name, Lonesome Rhodes, but now I kind of like it. There's this old movie, 'A Face in the Crowd', where Andy Griffith plays a drifter named Lonesome Rhodes. Well, he's not really named lonesome but he...

Hey people, sorry if we're a little late, but Sarah Palin was tailing us, and it took a little while for us to shake her.

The woman is nothing if not persistent.Mister Blankfein and Mister Boehner will not be joining us this morning. They're both attending a different meeting that I'm not at liberty to discuss. However, Newt and I should be able to cover nicely in their absence. So everybody grab a plate and we'll commence.

Uh, wait a minute. Where's the preacher man?

Have you not eyes to see? He's standing right there in front of you, Saint Beck, the amazing Mormon scripture spewer, preaching to the masses on the glory of Angel Moroni.

Whatever, dude. I'm going to grab me a plate.

Sorry I don't have any golden plates for you, Saint Beck, but seeing as you're not wearing your magic glasses, I guess it doesn't really matter.

Save it for another day, Robertson, we've got business to take care of. After today, you two will probably never meet again. And we can make this brief, as long as we reach consensus.

All of us here have one thing in common, and that's the desire to put conservative government back in control and once again unleash the power of the free market system. Happily, the Supreme Court has made that a lot easier for us. Our corporate friends may now support us fully and freely with only minor restrictions.

Indeed we may. That's why Turd Blossom is here with us today. He'll be coordinating a network of PACs to ensure money, lots of it, goes wherever it best serves our interests. You know, from a corporate point of view, it really doesn't matter who the candidates are, just as long as they realize that they work for us.

Okay... I understand the concept of buying power, but I don't quite understand how I fit into all of this.

It's simple, Beck. You just keep stirring up false controversies to ensure that the masses remain distracted enough to willingly vote against their own self interests.

I beg your pardon. I do not stir up false controversies.

Don't get your temple garments in a wad, Beck.

Reverend, I know you wouldn't dream of lying, so just keep stirring up true controversies about the threat posed by everything that doesn't conform to your vision of fundamentalist Christianity. FOX will give close focus to anything you identify as unseemly, filtering it through the voices of our patriotic pundits.

Including Beck? I don't want anyone putting a Mormon spin on good Christian ideas.

Sigh... I can promise you that Mister Beck will leave the preaching to the professionals for the time being. That's all I've got to say, except that henceforth, Mister Steel will be the conduit for any and all communications on this matter. Is everything clear?

I guess so... But how can a little group like this really change the direction of the country?

You're joking aren't you, Beck? Surely you don't think that this is the only group involved, do you?

...arriving at a very secret location...

You can let us off here, Dante. I'll give you a call when we're ready to leave.

Not a problem, boss.

Here we are, John. You've got four steps in front of you, and then pause a moment while the reader scans my iris... Okay, straight through the door.

You know something, Mister Blankfein, you were absolutely right about this bag. I really do like it quite a bit.

Well, like I said, it is a Dugan Bag. I do try to make sure that my visitors travel in comfort. The bag has many of the properties of an Orgone Box. Are you familiar with that term? It accumulates a universal life force which releases energy blocks that stimulate the brain.

Well, if it's anything like this bag, mark me down as interested.

We're inside now, John. Feel free to remove your head from the bag.

No thanks, Mister Blankfein. If it's all the same to you, I think I'd prefer to keep it on for a while.

Pity. I don't suppose you'll be able to drink any of this fifty year old Glenfiddich with a bag on your head.

You know, it's a good bag, but not a great bag...

...to be continued...