Chapter 170: Hurricane Marilyn

That night we watched Saturday Night Live. I don’t normally watch it, since I thought the first cast (Chevy Chase, et al) was the best, and anybody since then had been downhill. Still, I knew after all the comedy this week they were going to have to do something about Marilyn in jail. Marilyn wanted to go to bed, but I insisted we watch. I knew something crazy was going to happen.

Darrell Hammond (as me): (In a command post, surrounded by generals and admirals.) “Are we ready for the operation?”

Army General: (Standing before a flip chart showing a building with lots of arrows on it.) “Yes, sir! The extraction of the asset is planned for later today! This is a high value asset and is being detained in a maximum-security facility. Delta Force will parachute in, breach the interior walls, and perform the extraction.”

Navy Admiral: “Navy SEALs will secure the perimeter and deal with any fast reaction forces targeting the extraction.”

Air Force General: “We have satellite reconnaissance and stealth drones in place, close air support, also.”

Hammond: “Casualty projections?”

Army General: “High, sir. The asset is closely guarded and is considered a high value target. The men are all volunteers. They know this is a one-way mission, and they understand the need.”

Hammond: “And the asset?”

Army General: (Flips a page on the chart, showing a blown-up picture of Marilyn Buckman.) “Marilyn Buckman is currently being held in the Allegheny County Jail, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! We have managed to insert an agent who reports that Mrs. Buckman is currently being forced to teach classes in knitting and crocheting.”

Navy Admiral: “The CIA reports that she will begin baking cookies as soon as they break her spirit. There are reports that a foreign consortium led by Famous Amos has been bidding for her secret chocolate chip cookie recipe!”

Hammond: “NO!”

Air Force General: “Mister President, we cannot allow enemy powers to gain access to Mrs. Buckman’s cookie technology!”

Hammond: “We can’t let that happen! The mission is approved, but first ... LIVE FROM NEW YORK, IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!”

Pretty much like everybody in the studio audience, I was laughing hysterically from the moment Marilyn’s picture was shown. Even Marilyn was laughing at it. “I hope your children are seeing this. I am going to want this immortalized in video!” I told her.

“You can be eliminated!”

Later in the show we had part two of the madness. Amy Poehler, the designated Marilyn Buckman impersonator (this required a wig), was sitting in a prison cell wearing an orange jumpsuit, facing several other prisoners, and they were all knitting.

Poehler: “Remember, knit one, purl two!” (The wall next to Marilyn collapses. Two cast members in combat uniforms and carrying guns jump into the room.)

Soldier One: “Mrs. Buckman, we’re Delta Force! We’re here to rescue you!”

Soldier Two: “You have to come with us!”

Poehler: “But we were just going to start talking about mixing different yarns.”

Soldier One: “We have to leave now!”

Poehler: “Ladies, don’t forget what we learned about slip stitch!”

Soldier Two: “We have to go now!” (Both soldiers took ‘Mrs. Buckman’ by the arm and pulled her through the hole in the wall and across a computer-generated battlefield. They ended up on a different battlefield set.)

Soldier One: “Status on the extraction?”

Soldier Two: “Not good! We’re surrounded!”

Soldier One: “Casualties?”

Soldier Two: “At least half are down or captured, and the enemy is getting closer.”

Soldier One: “Choppers?”

Soldier Two: “Shot down! We didn’t know the Pittsburgh Police Department had anti-aircraft capability!”

Soldier One: “Ground?”

Soldier Two: “They have tanks. We’ve only got one choice left! You have to prepare Mrs. Buckman for pickup. I’ll join the remaining survivors and hold them off as long as we can!”

Soldier One: “Go!” (Turns to ‘Marilyn’ and opens a duffle bag.) “Mrs. Buckman, you need to put on this harness.”

Poehler: “The color really doesn’t work with the jumpsuit. Do you have something else, maybe in a light red or yellow?”

Soldier One: “Mrs. Buckman! Please!”

Poehler: “Oh, all right. Oh, damn, I broke a nail!”

Soldier One: “Mrs. Buckman!” (He began helping her.)

Poehler: “What’s this for, anyway?”

Soldier One: (Reaches into the duffle bag and pulls out an inflated balloon, clips it to a wire and lets it free, to float out of sight.) “Ever watch James Bond?”

Poehler: “No. Why?”

Soldier One: “No reason. Have a nice flight!” (Poehler gets lifted up off the stage by the wire, as the soldier kneels down and starts shooting his gun.)

Curiously, Marilyn took a certain exception to the portrayal of her by Poehler I simply laughed at my wife as she stewed.

Charlie must have been the only guy on the planet who hadn’t seen the clips by the time we saw him the next day. My Sunday breakfast was interrupted by Will Brucis when he called wanting to know my official reaction to the skits. I simply told him the truth, that I had laughed until I cried, and then told him the White House wasn’t going to take an official policy stance on Marilyn Buckman’s cookie technology. It was going to be one of those ‘neither confirm nor deny’ moments.

The Sunday morning news shows were all over this whole mess. ABC’s This Week with George Stephanopoulos ran the intro clip in full, and then George asked Fletcher Donaldson about it.

George Stephanopoulos: “Fletcher, you’ve actually been to the Buckman’s home in Hereford, Maryland. Is Marilyn Buckman’s chocolate chip cookie recipe really so valuable that we can’t allow it to fall into enemy hands?”

Fletcher Donaldson: “I can’t answer that, George. I don’t think I’ve ever had one of her cookies. I can say that her jam and jelly recipes are worth protecting.”

George Will: “I’d have to agree with that. I managed to get a jar of Buckman’s Berries Strawberry Jam one Christmas and it was pretty good stuff. It’s interesting, though, to compare Marilyn Buckman with Hillary Clinton, who once famously commented that she had no intention of staying home and baking cookies when she could do something more important. Marilyn Buckman is quite happy baking cookies and being a stay-at-home mother for her children and husband, and she considers that as important as anything else she could be doing, and I applaud her for that.”

That got into a full Roundtable discussion of the two women’s styles and whether Marilyn’s ‘career choice’ was correct and how my extravagant wealth had allowed my wife to be ‘less productive’ or if I had forced her into a ‘subservient’ role. After a bit, Marilyn looked at me and said, “Do you like my cookies?”

I smiled and waggled my eyebrows, and replied, “And your buns, too!”

“Oh my God! You’re awful!” I started tickling her at that, and only stopped when Megan wandered out of her bedroom to find the President of the United States of America and the First Lady of that great nation wrestling on the couch. Still, it showed how anything in Washington could be politicized.

Monday morning back in D.C. the political aspects were all over the place. I was treated to the latest on the witch hunt over at the Secret Service. The Senate Finance Committee planned to name a Special Investigator this week, and was dragging their heels on it, trying to delay everything past the end of the year and into the primary season. The Secret Service wasn’t waiting for them, and their internal affairs operation was crawling all over the protection details. It was expected that they would actually be questioning me and Marilyn at some point. I wasn’t precisely sure what that would gain them, but I couldn’t see an upside to stonewalling them.

During the morning staff meeting, something interesting came up, though. SNL had everybody talking, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight to the merriment. It was Mindy who said, “Why don’t you send Mrs. Buckman out to talk to people?”

“I think that’s how we got into this mess! She went out and talked to people!” I countered.

“No, not protesters! Put her on the late-night shows!”

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure where this was going.

Frank wasn’t either, but Will had a curious look on his face. “Keep going,” he told her, making a rolling motion with his hands.

“Marilyn Buckman is one of the nicest and warmest people you will ever meet. Everybody gets along with her. She comes across as a regular person, a nice person, not a Washington person. She can relate to people. Use that! Send her out on tour! Get people on her side and, by extension, your side, and not let this be your average Washington scandal. Let her show them it’s about real people. She comes across as real people.”

“On tour? What?” I wondered. “Where?”

“Put her out on the talk shows. She’s done Oprah before. Put her on the late-night shows. Are you telling me she couldn’t wow them on Leno or Letterman?”

“Could we get her on? It seems awfully sudden...” The thought of Marilyn on a talk show was a new one.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Mister President, she’s the First Lady! They would all kill to have her on!”

I shrugged. “When you put it that way ... What would she do?”

“Simple, talk to them,” finished Mindy. “About whatever they want to talk about. Where’s the downside? She’s not going to get into politics, since she doesn’t get into politics here. She’s a stay-at-home mom without any agenda other than taking care of her husband and children. What could she possibly say that would be harmful to you?”

“Huh.” I had to scratch my head at that. “She’ll never go for it. She’s never even campaigned for me on her own.”

“Have you ever asked her?” Mindy pushed back.

“You’re getting pushy in your old age, Mindy!” I replied with a smile. She didn’t look overly sorrowful at my characterization; she was only in her late thirties. I looked at Will. “Could we do it?”

“Piece of cake. Frank is right. Any of the shows would love to have the First Lady of the United States on as a guest. They’d probably have her as the only guest.”

I shrugged again. “What’s the worst that could happen? She could say no, I suppose.” I grabbed the phone and asked that they track down my wife. Hanging up I added, “It’s not like she knows the nuclear launch codes. I just hope she doesn’t say something like I have a two inch...” I was about to say dick when I remembered I had a lady in the room. I just snapped my mouth shut.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mister President,” answered Mindy with a smile.

“What?”

“Girl talk, Mister President.”

I groaned loudly. “No ... you and Marilyn ... no!”

Mindy giggled and nodded, “You don’t have to worry.”

I just groaned, as Frank and Will laughed at me. I was rescued from this line of questioning with the announcement over the intercom that my wife was on the line. I hit the button and then punched another to put it on speaker. “Marilyn, you there? I have you on speaker with my staff.”

“Hello.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Buckman. How’s Charlie?” asked Frank.

Marilyn gave us a rundown on my son’s condition. He was improving, his condition had been upgraded to Fair, and once his ribs healed further would move up to Good. They were scheduling his next operation for Tuesday, to begin working on his leg.

“That’s good Marilyn. Make sure you give him my best, both him and Megan.” The others looked at me curiously, but I waved that off. “Honey, the reason that I called is that we want to talk to you about doing a publicity tour, sort of.”

“A tour?”

“Yes, it’s actually Mindy’s idea. Here, I’ll let her explain it.”

Mindy spoke up, and she and Marilyn talked for a few minutes. After a bit, Marilyn said, “I’ve never done anything like that!”

Will responded, “I’ll have one of my top people on this, traveling with you the entire time. Mindy will have somebody, too.” Mindy nodded in agreement.

“But Charlie, I can’t leave him...”

I snorted at that. “Honey, I love you dearly, but you are probably driving him bonkers. He has Megan with him. She can drive him bonkers. It will be good practice for the future.”

“CARL!”

“Come home this afternoon and we’ll talk about it.”

Marilyn groused some more but agreed to come back to D.C. for a few days. We hung up, and I had some curious faces looking at me. “Megan ... I think you all met her at the wedding ... Charlie asked her to marry him, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations, Mister President,” replied Frank. “At least he’s your son. You won’t have to pay.”

I snorted. “Don’t bet on it!” The others all congratulated me as well.

My wife made it back to the White House by mid-afternoon, grousing to me that Charlie had sent her packing with a bit too big of a smile. I just promised her that we would head back up for the weekend, at which she mentioned that Megan had managed to get in touch with her parents, and they would also visit for the weekend. I nodded and made sure that we told Frank and the Secret Service about our plans. I had a new lead agent on my detail by now, also.