New Hampshire Is for Lovers

Lately, these thoughts had come to him more and more often. He'd been caught many times in the last year not quite there, spaced out during Cabinet meetings, at memorials for dead soldiers, on so many occasions. The media took this for his lack of seriousness, his staff hoped it was his concentration on global events, when it was something else entirely. The tilt of his head, parodied by cartoonists to seem like that of a dog hearing a high-pitched whistle, was caused by a call of his own: the call of God, or one of his helpers, giving him orders. Or trying to. The connection was not always good.

But every time this whistle voice began -- it reminded him, strangely enough, of the voice of Ricardo Montalban, booming and dignified but with a distinct Latin accent -- Junior was taken away from wherever he was, and again had to face this most interesting of questions:

"Am I, J. Junior Inferior Jr., actually Jesus Christ?"

It was happening almost once a day lately.

While playing tennis, while bowling, while chewing gum, came the question:

"Am I, J. Junior Inferior Jr., actually Jesus Christ?"

While pleasuring himself in the closet, while sitting in a briefing session, surreptitiously counting his ribs under his shirt (14):

"Am I, J. Junior Inferior Jr., actually Jesus Christ?"

And even now, while he was delivering his opening statement/prayer, while his father was stuck in a tree out by the parking lot. Without making the voice angry, he pressed on.

"Oh lord Jesus Christ, who art thou in Heaven, let me be allowed to say your name."

There were scattered titters from the audience, quickly shhhed.

"Oh lord, you have sacrificed so much for us over the years. You sometimes didn't get enough to eat, and you battled addiction and the Jews. You were whipped and kicked and had to carry heavy wooden objects around while wearing dirty clothes. You had people spit on you. You had no money or shoes. You wandered in the desert and were betrayed by some of your best buds. But you persevered, until you died. Then you persevered again."

And here Junior looked up to the audience and the camera and nodded, as if to say Whew! Can you believe it? This really happened! I read about it.

"Oh Lord, please give us all the strength you can spare. I know you are preparing for the apocalypse -- I read the books and I'm preparing, too -- so you're probably pretty busy, but if you can ride your golden chariot down here just one more time" -- and here he nodded ever-so-slightly in Carol O'Mealy's direction at the precise moment his red light went on, indicating his minutes were up -- "and slay the Medusa [he rolled his eyes for emphasis] I sure would appreciate it, as would all of your faithful servants here in your chosen land. I love you, I will always love you no matter what. Thank you and amen. Your friend, Junior."

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