A Tragic Story Worthy of Grand Opera
Chris Christie Waves
The plot so far…
As you may recall, a great honor befell our state. The distinguished governor of the great state of New Jersey, the hot center of honesty and integrity in politics and life, had risen to becoming the only state with a governor heading the transition team of the Next President, as they used to say, even before the votes were counted.
Gov. Wide Load, as he was known at home, had been the heaviest in the commedia troupe known as the Republican presidential hopefuls, the clown car of 17 candidates in the opera buffa of the 2016 primary race, and the first to swear allegiance to Il Donaldini.
His career reached new heights, humiliating himself on TV news shows, defending His Kookiness’ factless facts, insane tweets and demented impossible policies, like building a wall. Nobody better could make the inexperienced, unqualified political amateur sound almost Lincolnesque.
Aside from doing dog’s bodywork, reportedly picking up the candidate’s dry cleaning, as a key member of the Trump Tower thimk tank, he was the one who suggested the preemptive strategy of claiming without evidence the vote was rigged.
How could Gov. Meatloaf know? Well, he grew up in New Jersey, where Boss Frank “I Am the Law” Hague of Hudson County and Boss Nucky Johnson of Atlantic City always knew how to deliver as many votes as were needed.
Chris Christie’s sudden fall from power was a stain on New Jersey’s honor.
He was too honest… too ethical.. too scrupulously moral…too liberal… too fat? What? So sad, as Il Donaldini would say in his pithy Twitterese.
Before we could say “Moonachie” or “HoHokus, “ the man who would be President in 2012, if his gut hadn’t told him he wasn’t ready; the man who was more than qualified to serve as attorney general (he was the man who as Federal prosecutor had made 99 local corrupt Jersey citizens do the perp walk, including Jared Kushner’s sainted father, almost all of whom were Democrats); the man who could have filled the Judge Scalia Seat on the court, pound for pound … gone! Thrown out on his bona fides!
For all that being the heftiest political figure to be on his knees during the difficult darkest days, groveling before the biggest joke in the history of American presidential politics, a con man, a snake oil salesman, a fraud, a man who should have been in nightmare alley of political freak show, there apparently is no room for the most loyal lieutenant in the coming administration.
“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” Il Donaldini’s other trusted advisors seemed to be saying, an expression used in polite New Jersey society when a guest had overstayed his welcome.
No White House? No Veep? No attorney generalship? No secretary of cholesterol? Nada. Zip. Borscht!
Of course, there’s always the chance he still might become Secretary of Bridges and Tunnels in the cabinet. I mean, given his expertise in traffic studies at the George Washington Bridget. And it’s true he was the one who blocked the 2010 version of the new Hudson River tunnel, to prove he would be economy- minded in 2012, even though it will now cost 3x as much. It’s called tunnel vision.
But Hot Horse Herbie of Hackensack says we shouldn’t bet on it.
The way it looks now our boy will be lucky to get a job valet parking at the Trump White Citizens House.
In some puzzling mysterious way, our almost the first governor of New Jersey since Woodrow Wilson to become president had turned into a lame duck. How’s he going to pay for that stately mansion in Mendham?
I tell you it’s enough to make a man turn to popping a few of those M&M’s (the state chocolate) he always keeps in his pocket for emergencies.
He is not the only person in New Jersey to eat when he’s depressed. That’s one of his redeeming social qualities.
What’s next for our Pagliacci as he sings the political version of “Vesti la giubba” (The show must go on).
Well, he could return to his day job in Trenton, where the Augean stables always need cleaning.
His major achievement before he decided to make the sacrifice of coming to the aid of the party of Lincoln, the car and the tunnel, had been in popularity ratings. As a person from Maryland was telling me his state’s governor had an 80 % approval rating, I was able to say ours has a 20%. Somebody has to be lowest. Anyway, the polls are rigged.
He could always come home and make the trains not only run on time but not crash into the stations, and other neglected chores, such as improving the state’s credit, downgraded ten times while he’s been otherwise occupied.
With his connections in Trenton, he could always quit now and be an asset to some prestigious law firm, specializing in crooked real estate development deals, following in the footsteps of his best friend and mentor, David Samson, found guilty of bribery.
What will become of the hero of our tragic opera who now has to put on the makeup and carry on as if he is still the respected chief executive of a great state? And now we wait for his Finita la commedia (“The farce is over”).
(Next: Act III)
November 29, 2016