CSI: American Carnage (September 30, 2019)
THE CENTRAL PLAINS – Beneath the desiccated croplands, within the vast central plains complex, beyond the Moat of Mourning, past the Grotto of Grieving, at the far end of the Hall of Heartbreak, the Dark Ones sit, the elder nestled on the Throne of Troubles, the younger propped up in the Lounger of Lethargy. The elder sips from his chalice of fresh green tea, just in from Zhejiang, and contemplates his brother. He says, My brother, you have a leathery look today, a bit dry, drained you might say. His brother is silent for the moment. The elder says, It seems we have underestimated the Gambler Showman and his penchant for self-dramatization. Oh Father would not be amused! Well he knew the danger of misapprehension. He never forgave himself for discounting the abilities of the diminutive Georgian assassin. He put his money elsewhere, to be sure. He did not think the little man had the imagination needed for the behavior necessary to make his way to the top. He did not think a man who referred to himself as Uncle Joe would be capable of the vast brutality — or should I say the might effort? — needed to bring, as they say, home the bacon. The younger brother stares off down the central aisle of the great hall and says nothing. The elder continues, ruefully: But within that little body lived a monster of need, a paradigm of the paranoid capable of anything. Father regretted not exploiting the little shit for the rest of his days, even though he was able to extract quite a bit for the jerry-rigged refinery he built in Soltokovkya, or wherever it was. Now we have the Gambler Showman, who presents us with a similar situation. He is clearly fearful. He runs from one side of the cage to the other stirring up all kinds of trouble and wood shavings. He is sending off his messages at an alarming rate, and now he is suggesting our servi – ours! – are on the brink of civil war! Oh, my brother! I yearn for the old days of high jinks and uninterrupted cash flow! But now? The Hoosier Puppet is nowhere to be found and the rest of our vassals in the Gambler Showman’s circle are confused and fearful. They lack direction. I wonder if we should rein in the Showman. Or perhaps we should let him twist, as that old vassal used to say – what was his name? – twist slowly. Don’t you think this man they call Rudy should simply hang there? Let him twist slowly, twist slowly in the wind. The other vassals, Mulvaney and the rest, wanted the transcript out there. The appearance of cooperation, they argued. But our posture? Our posture has been timid. We have not moved to exploit the cash flow. Oh, I know, You think, you think we want to, want to go this route now? And the — let it hang out, so to speak? Well, it’s, it isn’t really that — It’s a limited hang out. It’s a limited hang out. It’s a modified limited hang out. Well, it’s only the questions of the thing hanging out publicly or privately. Yes. Yes. That’s it, a modified limited hangout that twists slowly in the wind with the public and the private. That should do it. We’ll see how that goes, my brother. It’s an interesting strategy which I could not have thought of by myself. – Monday, September 30, 2019