May 31st, 2001

President and Letterman Trade Insults on Late Show

BY: Aaron Brown

NEW YORK While visiting mayor Giuliani this week, President Smith made a
surprise appearance on The Late Show With David Letterman, or at least, it appeared that way. Letterman was half way into his monologue, making jokes as part of an on going Smith Versus Mexico routine, in regards to last months recent press battles with Mexican President Vicente Fox over the controversial immigration legislation passed on May 11th. The unusually strained relationship between Mexico and the US has drawn heavy fire recently from late night comedy programs and mainstream media as well. Round three goes to Smith, as he tricks day laborers to build The Great Wall of Texas, he said according to CBS transcript. Round five to Fox for recalling all the White House Landscapers back to Mexico Round six to Fox when Smith got lost for three days in the White House lawn after Landscaper Recall. Then President Smith walked out on stage-Hi Dave, he said, I bet you think thats pretty funny dont you? Then Mr. Smith unleashed a few Versus jokes of his own towards Letterman. Round one to Smith, for not turning CBS into C-Span 3. Mr. Smith said. Round two, to Smith, for not demoting Dave to a commentator on budget affairs committees K.O. Although Mr. Smith got a few laughs for the jabs, and Letterman seemed to be taking the hits like a good sport, there was clearly unrehearsed tension. In the second segment after the commercial break, Smith stayed on as a guest where he seemed to lay down the law for the audience. I want to make clear, said Smith, jovial tone removed at this point, America needs to batten down the hatches for the storm thats coming.

Chapter 5 June 1st 2001 The last four days were undeniable proof to Marshal of one universal constant; as time progresses, life gets worse. It wasnt that each and every day Marshal was tackled, checked, or bombarded by some type of sports equipment: it was Councilor Brad. Marshal was old enough to know it was one thing to win by cheating, but to continually change the rules to ensure victory was just childish. Even when Marshal confronted Councilor Brad, the young boy was met with the same response; winners win and whiners loose. The twins learned to make a song out of this perverse little saying, and sang it on an infinite loop. Of course Marshal told his dad about the situation, but unfortunately received relatively the same message in different packaging. His father would look Marshal dead in the eyes; Son, America isnt the strongest nation because we give up. Were the strongest because we keep fighting for truth, justice And Liberty, Marshal would finish. Unfortunately, his dad never clued him in on how to fight when the person in charge fights dirty. Under the current leadership, there were to many liberties taken with the rules, leading to a lack of justice in the realm of stupid games. That was the only truth that stuck. All Marshal really wanted to know was how youre supposed to beat a tyrant in tiny shorts. Come Friday, The Scout found himself on a new battlefield with a light, but persistent rain beating at his back and brow. Digging his heals into the mud, Marshal griped the football tighter, starring down his opponents on the opposite line of scrimmage. Sidewinder on 6. Sidewinder 6, shotgun, set hike!

Immediately after Marshal screamed out the play, Bradleys team came in tackling past every defender, (which typically you dont do in flag football.) Marshal fades back, shuffles left, jukes to the right, and takes off running past each and every offensive lineman. Each stride Marshal took, weighed him down as his shoes collect more mud. Still, the boy runs, passing the thirty, the twenty-- stiff-arming the last defender and into the in zone: touch down. On the side line, the blonde councilor with the boy hair cut jumped off her bench screaming wildly, Summerland for the win! Blowing his whistle, the Bane of Summer whined out, flag! Illegal play! Oh shove it Bradley! From what hole will you pull an excuse from this time? Now standing over an exhausted Marshal, you cant hog the ball all to yourself Marshal, you have to pass to another teammate for a touch down. Wiping the mud from his face, Marshal got to his feet and pants out; nowhere in the NFL handbook does it say that. Well this isnt NFL football, this is flag football and you have to pass. Well this isnt flag football if youre allowed to blitz on every down! Are you whining again Summerland? Do you need to sit out this game? Maybe go for a little nap? Im not the one throwing a tantrum for loosing fair and square. Thats it Summerland, not only are we talking to your parents Parent. Parentsyoure sitting out for the rest of the game. Mary, send your kid in to replace Marshal the Whiner.

Taking the twisty straw out of her mouth, Mary yells back, Can I send her in to replace you? Bradley glared towards Mary, who ignores his frustration and took another long sip of her Cherry Pepsi. Marshal does his best to control his breathing as he walks towards Miss Marys daughter, who like her mom was built like a young giraffe, but was much more abrasive. Despite being in trouble as much as Marshal, they still never spoke to each other. Even passing by one another, Allison only acknowledges Marshal by puffing out her cheeks like a blowfish. Mary taps the seat next to her, with Marshal slumping down on to the wooden bench beside her. Offering him a sip of Cherry Coke, you did good out there kid. What good? You cant win against that guy. That depends on your definition of winning. Marshal raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of coke, Score more touchdowns than the other team is normally how its done. Mary smiles and takes a long pull on her drink. Well thats how you win flag football sure, but our buddy Bradley isnt playing flag football. Clearly. Brad is playing a game called Compensating for Impotency. What? It means that Bradleys idea of winning isnt about scoring touch downs, its about trying to convince himself that hes better than everyone else around him. Mary and Marshal watch Bradley leap over a camper, bound into the in zone, and dance the whitest touchdown dance ever performed.

So, its not that I was loosing at flag football, I wasnt even playing the right game to begin with. Mary scoffs, nothing about Bradleys game is right. The two look on as Bradley continues to scream out taunts to the kid he had hurdled over. So how are you supposed to beat someone like that? Stretching her arms up to the sky as she yawns, Mary looks over to the boy with the broken spirit, sometimes Marshal, the only way to fight the madness of others is with a little madness of your own. Cupping her hands over her mouth, Mary shouts, Alli, run that one play where you do that thing. Okay! On the field Allison breaks from the huddle and sets up the ball on the line. Across from her, Bradley is bouncing up and down like a puppy with too much meth in his system. Setting up on the line, looking over to her teammates, Allison calls the play. Hand Solo on five, set, hike! Leaning back and throwing the ball straight up, Allison and the rest of her team collectively fall backwards into the mud. The defensive team is thoroughly baffled. Bradley however doesnt miss a beat, snatching the ball in its decent back to earth. The rabid councilor then continues to sprint to the in-zone, and spikes the ball into the ground. YEAH, Suck on that! Bradley screams back. Half an hour later of Allison running the same play, Bradley and his team are ahead by a wide margin. Its the final down. Allison sets up the play, hikes, and lets the ball lazily fall from her hand to the ground. Bradley chases after the ball like a newborn greyhound, and repeats his ridiculous dance.

Thats the game! Team Forrester one hundred and twelve, team Arowynn fourteen. How does it feel? Allisons team doesnt respond as theyve already cleared the field with Mary heading towards the gym. Bradley, desperately searches for someone to gratify his selfesteem, elbowing one of his teammates; we really took it to em, huh? The kid limps past Bradley to the gym, who cares, they werent even playing. Just like quicksand, all of Bradleys satisfaction is pulled back into the earth, and the man child is left to stew in his own defeat.

When five Oclock rolls around Marshal is as close to the gym door as he can be without Councilor Brad yelling at him. The echoing of bouncing basketballs and sharp squeaking sounds of sneakers beat against Marshals brain. The boy resists the urge not to compare his current mental state in relation to his current sweaty prison, already equipped with padded walls. Before he snaps, Marshal checks his watch for the hundredth time. Relief finally pours over him as his dad comes walking in through the double doors. You ready to get that Aviation Merit badge Scout? Marshal answers by simply sprinting out the doors and into the parking lot. --Three sonic booms erupt high in the clearing sky above St. Louis, Limburg Airbase. Combined with the afternoon sun making a last minute attempt to break through the passing storm, Marshals week seems but a bad dream. As a fourth F-15 begins to taxi the runway, another great eruption sounds throughout the airfield as the jet blasts off.

Racing away at full speed, the wheels of the fighter lift up from the runway, but the aircraft remains a few meters above the ground. Reaching the end of the runway, the jet pulls up ninety degrees, twisting into a barrel roll higher and higher into the air. The rest of the tour group on the observation deck breaks into wild applause. Marshal is speechless. Guiding him by the shoulder, Mr. Sutherland leads his son back inside the football stadium sized hanger filled with jets in various states of repair. The boy can barely contain himself. Not breaking from his perfect posture, the Airman leading the tour clears his throat and bellows, introduced in 1988 the F-15 Strike Eagle is THE most powerful aircraft in the world, with over one hundred combat missions flown and zero losses in airto-air combat. On behalf of The 157th Air Guard, thank yall for coming down. Are there any questions yall would like to know about the base here, or the aircraft? There are a million questions Marshal wants to ask, but his mouth is too small to funnel all the thoughts in his brain through all at once. His head moves around like an owl from the exposed jet turbines, a wing being lowered by crane, to the F-15 with the ladder leading up to the open cockpit. William breaks free from the crowd to ask, is it true that an F-15 shot down a satellite while in orbit? The Airman turns to William, thats absolutely true; in 1985 Major Pearson flew an F-15 at just under sonic speeds launching an Anti Satellite Missile, and effectively destroying its target. So, does that mean these Jets are capable of space travel? Laughing, no son, the missile was fired while inside the atmosphere.

William sighs, thats disappointing. The Airman doesnt have time to retort as Jake blurts out, what kind of guns does it have? The Strike Eagle is capable of carrying 16,000 pounds worth of additional armaments not including Jake and Denny have ceased to care, resuming their poking war. What really distracts the Airman is Marshal attempting to climb into the cockpit. Son, youre going to have to get down from there immediately! Marshal! his father shouted. Stepping down the ladder, the Airman meets Marshal at the base of the steps, the young boy snapping to attention and salute, request permission to board, Corporal? Sorry son, that craft is strictly for trained airmen only. Wed be happy to see you at a recruiters station in about ten years though. Ten years? The boys hopes are seemingly dragged away as Marshal himself is dragged from the mighty aerial machine by his dad. --As Mr. Summerlands truck pulls into the driveway, Marshal hops out of the shotgun seat and attempts to storm off into the house. His dad sticks his head out of the window, hold it right there Marshal. The boy halts in his tracks while his stepbrothers pass by. Jake is the first to lob an insult, wonder how long hell have to stay in his room this time? Denny pipes in, maybe Greg will take something away from him instead? Marshal doesnt have anything to take away, stupid.

Clenching his fist, Marshal stalks up behind Jake ready to cold clock him. Marshal! Front and center, right now. The boy drops his fists and his composure, no longer holding the strong military posture he pretended to hold for the last weak. Marshals endurance has expired. His father however is unmoved by his sons battle fatigue, spinning Marshal around by the shoulder. Marshal I know its tough what happened thats still no excuse to talk back to your councilors, or climb around on a jet thats no excuse to behave less than a Scout, alright, they can, your brothers can, but youre better than that. Understood? Marshal keeps quiet. How could his dad possibly know what its like to lose someone? He didnt lose anyone, Marshal thought, his dad just ran away to someone else epiphany hits him like that missile that killed the satellite. Hey, do you understand me young man? Yes sir, the boy lies, storming off into the garage.

Denny, Jake, and William are all sitting at the kitchen table watching television when Marshal continues his warpath through the Kitchen, throwing open the refrigerator door. Denny is the first to speculate, Bet you Greg told him to sleep in the refrigerator from now on. Marshal pretends to ignore Denny, grabbing two pears from the fridge. Theres no room. Hed have to stay in the downstairs one, Jake retorts. Slinging his hiking pack on his shoulder, Marshal stomps back to the garage door. Running away again? William asks. Going to the library, Marshal barks out, slamming the door behind him. Jake scoffs, the library, during summer? What a retard.