Suppose you were a fly on the wall when political discussions were taking place and the TRUTH was being told.
No fear of bugs in these sessions, the electronics have been swept and removed if necessary.
Except that bug the fly, which has the ability to Blog, intriguingly
I’ve grown very find of our weekly meetings at this point and consider myself to be almost as good a spinmeister as my human counterparts.
To catch up, I am a fly and via Valerie Jarrett’s sleeve I slip into these weekly PR spin sessions meant to change public perception of events.
It’s a neat trick, turning truth into lies, non-fiction into fiction. Flies don’t do much but sit around on poop and rotten food so I’ve come to admire this fine art.
Jarrett was, as always, head of these sessions. The other attendees are not known by the public (hell, Jarrett’s got more power than anybody in this administration but few of the general populace would know who she is) but were known to the many journalists and PR folks who received their prepared spin with eagerness.
I have a recorder taped under my wing, tiny thing, of course, but it carries the words of lies and spin back to my expert fly trainer, this Blogger now typing the words I taped.
Jarrett stood up and paced the room in that manner of the boss of a concentration camp. Three young people sat quiet and solemn as they wait to learn what public relation battle they will have to fight. They also are very anxious over the PR battles they themselves have battled this past week and it wasn’t a battle, they appeared to be thinking, it was a war.
“Now about this ‘war’ problem,” Jarrett said, as if reading their minds. One formerly shy young Jarrett protégée raised her hand. Before given permission the young woman spoke: “Val we are all a wreck after spending a week arguing over what constitutes a ‘was’ and ‘boots on the ground’. I got so that by the end of the week my head was spinning.”
The other young protegees nodded affirmative and goodness, even me, a humble insect, heard John Kerry tell us that America’s fight with ISIS was a ‘counter-terrorism’ effort, some called it a battle, some said that soldiers currently very much on the ground in Iraq were wearing boots so why say no boots on the ground.
Maybe someday I will be a Jarrett protegee and between Val and First Lady Michelle will too learn how to twist truth, if not outright lie.
These people knew the value of words and they understood full well that the word “war” used in conjunction with anything in Iraq was forbidden. War was something Dubya Bush did, not President Obama, he who walks on water and brings peace to the planet.
Again, even my humble insect self understood the value of the bully pulpit. People are inclined to believe what comes from presidential speeches, press conferences and the like. Flies have queen flies and such, depending on our breed, but no one much listens to our queen; her job is to lay eggs.
Humans place value on their leaders and even if their leader is an idiot, he or she can speak stupid over and over and many of the humans accept it as truth.
It’s why I’m a Fly on the Wall…..to gather the info and tell the wise humans what’s behind the spin.
“And how about this stuff about ISIL not being Islamic?” a young man said, too after raising his hand and not waiting for permission to speak.
“The first word in ISIL is ‘Islam’,” my favorite young protegee said, a cute gum-cracking chick.
Valerie stopped her pacing and took a deep breath.
“Remember, if the President says it, over half the population will accept it as truth,” Jarrett said, looking toward the ceiling as if reading a ceiling teleprompter.
“All those reporters don’t buy it,” the youngest protegee yelled out. “They’ve been pounding our office lines all week. And Fox News is devoting entire shows to just why ISIL is very much Islamic.”
“We sent out talking points,” Jarrett said, looking pointedly at the young upstart who evidently annoyed her.
“What?” the source of Val’s irritation shot back. “We’re supposed to tell the media that ISIL members are recruited from the population of many cultures? That only makes the administration look cavalier, declaring Americans are part of ISIL. Even if they’re not Muslim when they join up they all must convert immediately.”
“The President had to say that ISIL isn’t Islamic,” Valerie sighed, running distracted fingers through her hair. “There are many factions of our party that get direct contributions from Muslim countries for the purpose of preserving their image. The President had to say it, guys, so get over it.”
Valerie allowed silence to permeate the room, and get recorded on my tiny recorder as well.
“Guys, we’ve discovered a new product that will change our jobs completely. It will, in fact, change the world!”
All human eyes in the room got wide. My fly eyes are already very wide but still I focused my many lenses on Jarrett. New stuff that’s going to change the world is big news. I wanted to be in position to get it on tape and delivered to my blogging owner.
“It’s a medicine,” Valerie began, then pausing to span the room with her eyes and create drama with the announcement to come. “Right now it’s in liquid form but we are assured that it can be made into an aerosol that came be sprayed surreptitiously in a room. Soon this new amazing product can be delivered to entire populations via their water system or very atmosphere over their towns!”
Goodness, all my lenses were pulsing with anticipation. Something that could affect entire human populations? I had to wonder if flies would be immune.
Jarrett leaned into the table. “It’s a narcotic of sorts,” she said, almost in a whisper. “and it makes people forget anything you want them to forget.”
With this Jarrett leaned back and waited for her words to be absorbed.
“So, say, “Valerie said, a little louder and with flourish now that she had their human attentions. She had this fly’s attention as well. “you want all the people in a country to forget that the President said that ISIL was not Islamic. You just pump, over the air, into the water, via their natural gas lines as I am to understand, this narcotic and everyone who whiffs, drinks or requires warmth will forget it.”
One timid hand went up but Jarrett held her palm out in warning for more to come.
“Oh there’s an art to it,” Valerie continued, beginning an effort to answer the questions her listeners might have. “Somebody’s got to suggest what is to be forgotten and that might be difficult to get an entire country to kind of be hypnotized on such a mass scale. And my example, of course, might not be the best one. But just think….”
We were all already thinking, including my fly self, but Jarrett wanted us to think more…”with the push of a button you can get everyone in a room to forget something. Imagine the possibilities!”
Then Jarrett chuckled…”Course it might make us all be without a job as what would we do? We have this narcotic already designed. We meet with the CIA, the situation changes, we spritz some of our “forget” liquid, boom, no leaks to the press, no worry work for us.”
Jarrett took a deep breath and began gathering her papers, indicating the meeting was over. The meeting attendees slowly gathered their things and shuffled out in that manner of humans without fly wings.
I went down and tucked myself into Jarrett’s blouse sleeve, still blown away by the concept of being able to make large groups of people forget something.
Someone in control of such a thing would rule the world.
Although, my fly self argued to my worries, these guys do the same thing really….as in “Forget what you heard, here’s what I said”.
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