Following up on my last two posts involving “James Taylor Gate”, the scandal that has weakened us in the eyes of our European allies, I decided to pay a visit to the State Department.
What is going on at the State Department? What type of internal culture does it have? Who in their right mind thought that sending James Taylor to Paris was an act of smart diplomacy. I was determined to find the answers.
As I drove up to the State Department the first thing I noticed was that someone had left cake out in the rain.
“Shame” I said to myself. “It probably took so long to bake it and no one’s ever going to have that recipe again.”
Once inside the State Department I was greeted by spokeswoman Jen Psaki (pictured here)
who would be my tour guide.
I took note of the casual dress code. Most people were wearing jeans and tie-dyed t shirts. Someone had written the words “Love Mankind. Spock was right” on the wall
“I want to meet Secretary Kerry. I want to ask him some questions” I told her.
Her eyes narrowed. She became agitated and spoke.
“Hey man, you don’t talk to the Secretary!” she exclaimed.
You listen to him. The man’s enlarged my mind. He’s a poet warrior in the classic sense. I mean sometimes he’ll… uh… well, you’ll say “hello” to him, right? And he’ll just walk right by you. He won’t even notice you. And suddenly he’ll grab you, and he’ll throw you in a corner, and he’ll say, “Do you know that ‘if’ is the middle word in life? I mean I’m… no, I can’t… I’m a little woman, I’m a little woman, he’s… he’s a great man! I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across floors of silent seas…
She then began running her hand up and down the wall while softly repeating, “James Taylor will bring peace……James Taylor will bring peace.”
She was silent for awhile. I thought maybe she had a stroke. Then she looked me right in the eye and said, “Would you like to try my tea?”
“Well okay but can I meet the Secretary after that?”
“Oh you will” she giggled. “Drink my tea. It’s not like the tea that mother gives you that won’t do anything at all.”
I drank the tea and I must say it was delicious.
“Now can I see the Secretary?”
“You will, once the tea hits your bloodstream and men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go.”
I started to feel dizzy and sat down.
“You’ll like what you see” Ms. Psaki said. “Come on over to the other side.”
The next seven hours were difficult to remember as I was hallucinating. At one point I remember seeing John Kerry standing over me, wearing spandex and wind surfing.
“When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead and the white night is talking backwards and the red queen’s off with her head remember James Taylor! James Taylor!” he said to me before morphing into beloved character actor Fred Gwynne
and riding off to heaven on a Harley.
And this was one of my least disturbing hallucinations.
I woke up in Psaki’s office. She and fellow State Department spokeman Marie Harf
were dancing around me.
When they noticed I was awake they stopped dancing.
“You’re one of us now” said Psaki.
“Go spread the word that the State Department is groovy” Harf told me.
And so I left, wiser and sadder. Now I know why they thought it was a good idea to send James Taylor to France.
(503)
So, Kerry moved the State Department to Woodstock. That figures!
He’s going to appoint Hanoi Jane as undersecretary.
It’s nostalgia baby!
You must be careful on the 13th floor elevator. In the State Department.