My Prediction for Pennsylvania Tuesday
Tomorrow (April 22nd) the Democrats will hold a primary in Pennsylvania. Fans of this site know that I'm an amateur political-junkie, and that I really like Barack Obama. Anywho, I was bored and decided to write my predicition for Tuesday night. This is me during a surprising bout of optimism, btw! :) Enjoy!
***
Somewhere in Philadelphia, PA.
11:29pm, Appril 22, 2008
In the lobby of one of Philadelphia's most exclusive hotels a packed crowd screams in joy as network after network projects their candidate, Barack Obama, as the winner of the Pennsylvania primaries. This stunning upset will no doubt mean that Obama's rival for the nomination, Sen. Hillary Clinton, will be forced to drop out of the race. There's a palable sense of electricity in the air: Obama signs wave; confetti falls down; and the cable-news network talking heads have to nearly scream to be heard by their microphones.
Upstairs, in the finest suite the hotel has to offer, all is calm. Barack, relaxing in an easy chair, smiles contently as Kieth Olberman announces that MSNBC has finally agreed with all the other networks by projecting Obama the winner. In front of him David Axelrod, Obama's closest political adviser, is reading the eighth draft so far of his victory speech.
"This is good, I think we can run this," Axelrod says.
Barack begins to reply when the phone rings. Not just any phone, either, but a cell phone whose number has been given to only a few very important people within the party.
"It's okay, Dave, I'll get it," Obama says as he flips open the phone. "Hello?"
David watches anxiously as Barack nods and a smile forms on his face. "Yes, this is he," Obama says. "Sure, I can hold."
"Is it her?" Axelrod asks eagerly.
Obama doesn't reply except to give his campaign chief the thumbs up and press a button on the cell phone.
"Still there, Senator?" a voice booms through the speaker phone.
"I am," Obama says.
A slight pause follows. And then it's all Axelrod can do to contain his excitement when an all-too familiar voice fills the room. The voice says, "Well, you did it. I'm conceding in fifteen minutes."
Obama nods as Axelrod pumps his fist. Barack holds up a hand to calm his friend down and then says, "Hillary, it's good to hear from you."
"Cut the bullshit, Barack," Hillary Clinton says, her voice verging on rage. "I'm only conceding Pennsylvania. I'm seriously considering the prospect of keeping this thing going despite tonight's loss."
"It's your right," Obama says with a shrug. "Keep it going all the way to Denver, if you want."
Axelrod, looking nervous, scrambles for a pen and paper. A trusted aid provides both in silence as a stunned Hillary says through the speaker phone, "Why, yes, exactly. That's what I can do, if I want."
"It will be an interesting battle, Hillary," Obama says as his campaign chief scribbles some words onto a piece of paper. "Of course, I'd obviously prefer it if you would just concede the whole thing so we could unite the party."
A long pause follows. Axelrod holds up his piece of paper, and the relaxed Senator from Illinois reads the words: "Tell the bitch off already!" Obama grins, but shakes his head.
Finally Hillary says, "Are we speaking privately, Barack?"
"No," Obama admits even as Axelrod nods his head. "Dave's here, along with a couple of our aides. We're talking on speaker phone."
David slaps his forehead with his hand and shakes his head. Hillary says, "David can stay but lose the peons."
Obama nods his head, and the room of the hotel suite empties after a minute.
"Okay, Hillary, it's just you, me, and David, now," Obama says.
"And Bill," Hillary adds.
"Very well," says Obama. "You were saying that you'd like to fight this thing all the way to Denver?"
"I was saying I could," Hillary snaps, her voice dripping with venom. "Then again, I could bow out and endorse you tomorrow."
Obama nods his head and looks at Axelrod. His chief is way ahead of him, already jotting down some notes on a piece of paper.
"I would very much appreciate that, Senator," he says. "What could I do to ensure such an outcome?"
A long pause follows, during which Axelrod holds up the piece of paper. It reads, "Promise her nothing." Obama simply nods and gives his chief the thumbs up.
"I want Bill on the Supreme Court," Hillary says. "For starters."
"Bill would make an excellent associate justice," Obama agrees as Axelrod angrily shakes his head. "But that's not all you want, is it?"
Another pause. Then, "I want your support in my bid next year to become Senate Majority Leader."
"Now, Hillary," Obama says after a time, "you know that's not going to happen. Harry is a dear friend of mine and he's doing a remarkable job. Besides, you're over-qualified for that position."
"Over-qualified?" Hillary blasts. "So you'd rather see me as a run-of-the-mill Senator than the fucking leader of the Senate? Is that it?"
"I'd rather see you as my Secretary of State."
Axelrod, stunned, stops scribbling on his pad of paper. Hillary also seems taken aback. No one speaks. And Obama simply waits.
"What did you say?" she asks.
"The State Department is in shambles, Hillary," Obama says. "It will take a strong-willed and ferocious leader to make the changes there that will be necessary to securing our country's place in the 21st century. And while we don't always agree on matters of foreign policy, your place in my cabinet would at the least ensure I was always getting honest advice from an expert stateswoman."
Axelrod holds up his pad of paper. It's covered with question-marks. Obama grins, waves his chief off, and waits for Hillary to reply.
"I want a guarantee," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "that I'd be able to serve in that post for the entirty of you administration."
"I can't guarantee anything," Obama says. "There's always the chaos factor, the possibility that for reasons outside our control I'd have to dismiss you. What I can guarantee is that so long as you honorably serve our country, I will support you."
"In your cabinet?"
"Yes," Obama says, even as Axelrod shakes his head furiously. "In my cabinet."
Another long pause. Then Hillary says, "I think we finally understand each other. I'll concede Pennsylvania tonight. We can work out my endorsement tomorrow."
"I'm pleased to hear that," Obama says as Axelrod once again pumps his fist in victory.
"Good night, Senator," she says.
"Good night, Senator," he replies.
As soon as the phone clicks dead Axelrod hoots in celebration. "We got it, we're there!" he crows. "And you weren't serious about the Secretary of State position, right?"
Obama nods his head. "I was dead serious, David."
The blood drains out of Axelrod's face. "But... Jesus, Barack. She'd make a good SOS, sure, but you've promised them the moon. You've given the Clintons the number-3 position in the Exectutive, and a promise to put put Bill on the Judicial. I told you not to promise anything for a reason!"
"I didn't promise a position for Bill," Obama replies.
Axelrod pauses. "You said..."
"I said he'd make a great associate justice," Barack grins. "I never said I'd make sure he'd end up on the Supreme Court."
Axelrod grinned. "Technically, no. But the Clintons think you did. They're gonna be pissed off if and when you don't nominate him for the post."
Obama, stretching back in his chair, smiles. "You're right. But we have an old saying in Chicago about such things."
"What's that?"
Obama closes his eyes. "Fuck 'em."
**end**
***
Somewhere in Philadelphia, PA.
11:29pm, Appril 22, 2008
In the lobby of one of Philadelphia's most exclusive hotels a packed crowd screams in joy as network after network projects their candidate, Barack Obama, as the winner of the Pennsylvania primaries. This stunning upset will no doubt mean that Obama's rival for the nomination, Sen. Hillary Clinton, will be forced to drop out of the race. There's a palable sense of electricity in the air: Obama signs wave; confetti falls down; and the cable-news network talking heads have to nearly scream to be heard by their microphones.
Upstairs, in the finest suite the hotel has to offer, all is calm. Barack, relaxing in an easy chair, smiles contently as Kieth Olberman announces that MSNBC has finally agreed with all the other networks by projecting Obama the winner. In front of him David Axelrod, Obama's closest political adviser, is reading the eighth draft so far of his victory speech.
"This is good, I think we can run this," Axelrod says.
Barack begins to reply when the phone rings. Not just any phone, either, but a cell phone whose number has been given to only a few very important people within the party.
"It's okay, Dave, I'll get it," Obama says as he flips open the phone. "Hello?"
David watches anxiously as Barack nods and a smile forms on his face. "Yes, this is he," Obama says. "Sure, I can hold."
"Is it her?" Axelrod asks eagerly.
Obama doesn't reply except to give his campaign chief the thumbs up and press a button on the cell phone.
"Still there, Senator?" a voice booms through the speaker phone.
"I am," Obama says.
A slight pause follows. And then it's all Axelrod can do to contain his excitement when an all-too familiar voice fills the room. The voice says, "Well, you did it. I'm conceding in fifteen minutes."
Obama nods as Axelrod pumps his fist. Barack holds up a hand to calm his friend down and then says, "Hillary, it's good to hear from you."
"Cut the bullshit, Barack," Hillary Clinton says, her voice verging on rage. "I'm only conceding Pennsylvania. I'm seriously considering the prospect of keeping this thing going despite tonight's loss."
"It's your right," Obama says with a shrug. "Keep it going all the way to Denver, if you want."
Axelrod, looking nervous, scrambles for a pen and paper. A trusted aid provides both in silence as a stunned Hillary says through the speaker phone, "Why, yes, exactly. That's what I can do, if I want."
"It will be an interesting battle, Hillary," Obama says as his campaign chief scribbles some words onto a piece of paper. "Of course, I'd obviously prefer it if you would just concede the whole thing so we could unite the party."
A long pause follows. Axelrod holds up his piece of paper, and the relaxed Senator from Illinois reads the words: "Tell the bitch off already!" Obama grins, but shakes his head.
Finally Hillary says, "Are we speaking privately, Barack?"
"No," Obama admits even as Axelrod nods his head. "Dave's here, along with a couple of our aides. We're talking on speaker phone."
David slaps his forehead with his hand and shakes his head. Hillary says, "David can stay but lose the peons."
Obama nods his head, and the room of the hotel suite empties after a minute.
"Okay, Hillary, it's just you, me, and David, now," Obama says.
"And Bill," Hillary adds.
"Very well," says Obama. "You were saying that you'd like to fight this thing all the way to Denver?"
"I was saying I could," Hillary snaps, her voice dripping with venom. "Then again, I could bow out and endorse you tomorrow."
Obama nods his head and looks at Axelrod. His chief is way ahead of him, already jotting down some notes on a piece of paper.
"I would very much appreciate that, Senator," he says. "What could I do to ensure such an outcome?"
A long pause follows, during which Axelrod holds up the piece of paper. It reads, "Promise her nothing." Obama simply nods and gives his chief the thumbs up.
"I want Bill on the Supreme Court," Hillary says. "For starters."
"Bill would make an excellent associate justice," Obama agrees as Axelrod angrily shakes his head. "But that's not all you want, is it?"
Another pause. Then, "I want your support in my bid next year to become Senate Majority Leader."
"Now, Hillary," Obama says after a time, "you know that's not going to happen. Harry is a dear friend of mine and he's doing a remarkable job. Besides, you're over-qualified for that position."
"Over-qualified?" Hillary blasts. "So you'd rather see me as a run-of-the-mill Senator than the fucking leader of the Senate? Is that it?"
"I'd rather see you as my Secretary of State."
Axelrod, stunned, stops scribbling on his pad of paper. Hillary also seems taken aback. No one speaks. And Obama simply waits.
"What did you say?" she asks.
"The State Department is in shambles, Hillary," Obama says. "It will take a strong-willed and ferocious leader to make the changes there that will be necessary to securing our country's place in the 21st century. And while we don't always agree on matters of foreign policy, your place in my cabinet would at the least ensure I was always getting honest advice from an expert stateswoman."
Axelrod holds up his pad of paper. It's covered with question-marks. Obama grins, waves his chief off, and waits for Hillary to reply.
"I want a guarantee," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "that I'd be able to serve in that post for the entirty of you administration."
"I can't guarantee anything," Obama says. "There's always the chaos factor, the possibility that for reasons outside our control I'd have to dismiss you. What I can guarantee is that so long as you honorably serve our country, I will support you."
"In your cabinet?"
"Yes," Obama says, even as Axelrod shakes his head furiously. "In my cabinet."
Another long pause. Then Hillary says, "I think we finally understand each other. I'll concede Pennsylvania tonight. We can work out my endorsement tomorrow."
"I'm pleased to hear that," Obama says as Axelrod once again pumps his fist in victory.
"Good night, Senator," she says.
"Good night, Senator," he replies.
As soon as the phone clicks dead Axelrod hoots in celebration. "We got it, we're there!" he crows. "And you weren't serious about the Secretary of State position, right?"
Obama nods his head. "I was dead serious, David."
The blood drains out of Axelrod's face. "But... Jesus, Barack. She'd make a good SOS, sure, but you've promised them the moon. You've given the Clintons the number-3 position in the Exectutive, and a promise to put put Bill on the Judicial. I told you not to promise anything for a reason!"
"I didn't promise a position for Bill," Obama replies.
Axelrod pauses. "You said..."
"I said he'd make a great associate justice," Barack grins. "I never said I'd make sure he'd end up on the Supreme Court."
Axelrod grinned. "Technically, no. But the Clintons think you did. They're gonna be pissed off if and when you don't nominate him for the post."
Obama, stretching back in his chair, smiles. "You're right. But we have an old saying in Chicago about such things."
"What's that?"
Obama closes his eyes. "Fuck 'em."
**end**
posted by Shannon at 12:33 AM
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