Tuesday, August 24, 2010

The Breakfast Club: The First Breakfast

I think we're going to need a whole lot more batter than this, Maureen. I'm not sure why, but I've got some real heavy hitters coming for breakfast this morning, and they're not the type to skimp on my Age-Defying Protein Pancakes. Those little flapjacks are amazing, aren't they? You can actually feel your body being revitalized with every bite you take. You know, one of my guests on the show the other day said that I could pass for forty, and I told her that I owed it all to...

Was that the bell? Kindly get that for me, Maureen, while I pour another batch of my Age-Defying Protein Pancakes batter on the griddle.
MMM, MMM. MMM, someone must be making pancakes. I could smell them all the way outside.
I guess I can't accuse you of having a defective nose, eh, Michael? Come on in and have a seat. I haven't seen you around in a while.
Well, the guys all kinda asked me to be a little more low profile for a while, and I...
I just heard a breaking news bulletin saying that there was a breakfast in process over here.
Rupert! I guess I can't accuse you of having defective ears, eh? Do you know Michael Steele, Mr Murdoch?
Steele, yeah, uh huh. Hello, Steele. Say, Pat, take a look at who I found outside loitering in your driveway.
It's a celebrity!
Pleased to meet you, Mister Robertson. I wasn't really lurking in your driveway - Mister Murdoch asked me to come along. Say, it looks like you're laying out a real spread.
Well, Glenn, I guess I can't accuse you of having defective eyes, can I now? Do you know Chairman Steele?
I've... referred to him on my show a couple of times. What up, dogg? About my eyes, though, the doctors recently told me that...
That must be Newt. Maureen, would you mind getting the door? I'm going to set this platter of Jimmy Dean Lil' Links on the table and whip up another bowl of batter.
Good morning, Mister Robertson.
Uh, hello. Can I help you?
Robertson, you old fool, that's Lloyd Blankfein, CEO of Goldman Sachs. Lloyd is the man who set up this meeting. He's here as the representative of our Corporate Overlords.
Oh. My bad. It's an honor to meet you, Mister Blankfein. As someone who has always happily served the Lord, I'm more than pleased to serve an Overlord some breakfast.
And I am more than pleased to consume it. I've heard some marvelous things about your flapjacks. My goodness - your handshake, Mister Roberson. Your skin is as soft as a baby's bottom.
It's the pancakes, Mister Blankfein. I guess I can't accuse you of having a defective sense of touch.
Aww, jeez...
How's that low profile thing working out for you, Mister Steele? No need to respond... Good morning, Rupert. And this must be your wonder boy.
I suppose so, at least in the sense that I wonder what the hell is going to pop out of his mouth next. You've probably heard that Beck is going to be having a rather large wingding in Washington this weekend to dishonor Martin Luther King's 'I have a dream' rally.
Marvelous. More disharmony and distrust are just what this country needs right now.
Mister Murdoch is just pulling your leg, Mister Blankfein. You see, I too have a dream, a dream that can lift us out of the current American nightmare. It's my hundred year plan to...
Can you get that, Maureen? Maureen? Oh. I see you already have. And if you don't mind, wait outside the kitchen until I call for you. I was told we needed privacy.
YO HO, Newt's in the house. Hello, Rupe. Morning, Mister Blankfein. What's up, Beck. Hey Pat, since we were meeting here for breakfast, I thought I'd bring you an orange.
At least I've got a little color, unlike old Paleface here. Good morning, everybody. You too, Steele.
Say, are those Jimmy Dean Lil' Links? Hand me the platter, I love those... You're one great cook, Pat, they're delicious.
Well, Newt, at least I can't accuse you of having defective taste buds.
I knew the motherfucker was gonna say that!

Oops, sorry. Keepin it quiet. Low profile time.

All right, everybody, let's eat some pancakes. Newt, I'm happy to host this meeting, but I sure am curious as to what this is all about.
It's about the very fate of our nation, Pat. Someone pass those sausages back down here. And I need syrup... Since Mister Blankfein is the impetus behind this assembly, I'll yield the floor to him.
Thank you, Newt. This is indeed quite a momentous little get together, and because of its seriousness, I must be assured that nothing said here is repeated to a living soul without the expressed permission of myself, Mister Murdoch or Mister Gingrich. I know I can trust, John. And I believe Mister Steele knows the consequences of betraying my trust, isn't that correct? No need to respond. Mister Robertson, you are to keep this between you and your maker, or else be prepared to meet him. Understand?
Well, I guess, just as long as you can promise me that this doesn't have anything to do with some type of Islamic takeover or anything like that.
Rest assured it does not. That leave you, Mister Beck. Do you think you can maintain, mmm, shall we say 'radio silence'?
Wow. This is just like a movie. But yes, Mister Blankfein, if it's for the good of my country, I can maintain radio silence, television silence, and even silence at my enormous Washington rally.
Very well, then. Gentlemen, the United States is on the verge of a fundamental change, a change that we are all in a unique position to help along. Over the course of the next few...
I'm sorry, Mister Robertson, she rushed right past me.
Hi ya fellas, sorry if I'm a little late.
I'm... I'm afraid you are, Sarah. I invited you for breakfast back in October of 2008.
Shoot, it's funny how time flies, isn't it? Oh well, like I always say, better late than never. Save me some of those sausages, Newt.
Ms Palin, I must tell you that this meeting is of a highly confidential nature, and that everybody required is already seated.
Just take a listen to Mister Snooty Pants. It just so happens that I know everybody here but you. So move over fellas, cause I'm about as hungry as...
A big mama grizzly?
Bwah haha ha ha... Sorry. Keepin it quiet. Keepin it low profile.
Two hours later...
...and since they were being so vicious to Dr Laura I just felt I had to use my first amendment rights to Tweet out some words of encouragement, but then afterwards my friend Debbie said 'Sarah, didn't you hear what that woman said about you' and I told her 'Debbie, I don't know what you're talking about' and Debbie said 'She called you an unfit mother' and I said 'Shoot, what am I supposed to do now' because you know, I had already Tweeted and if I said something now it would be like...
Well, sorry, but it looks like we're going to have to reconvene at some later date.
At least we all got a chance to meet face to face. I'll call you back when we can reschedule.
Where'd everybody go, Pat? I hope I didn't dominate the conversation.
I think they all had other commitments. Maureen, you can come back in...

Care for some more pancakes, Sarah?

You betcha! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Debbie said that maybe I should write something on Facebook saying my Tweet was a joke, and I said 'Debbie, I don't want people to think my Tweets are jokes' because, you know, then they don't know when to take you seriously, and so I thought I could play the forgiveness card, cause after all you know how that can be like a powerful...

to be continued...


  1. It's the international multi-millionaire of mystery...BLANKFEIN!

    heh. You got the SarahSpeak down too, goldangit...tho' perhaps a bit sophlisstimacated for SP.

  2. That was outstanding.

  3. Thanks, J, I really think Blankfein would make a great Bond villain - maybe even better than Krauthammer.

    And thank you, Stan. This is part one of what I hope will be many.

  4. Everyone at that meeting generally tends to destroy my appetite, Mark, but somehow you managed to stimulate it— even tho I don't generally eat pancakes, and would never put anything in my mouth that Pat Robberson had touched; maybe it was just the word "sausages," since Jimmy Dean (may he rest in grease) never made anything edible either. ...

    But I really liked the "fly on the wall" feeling you gave the piece; tho again, I can't for the life of me think that anyone there has a fucking thing to say that's worth listening to. Hm. Maybe I just need to eat something.