This year we were getting Jay Leno, who was funny and very much middle of the road. It was doubtful he was going to chew me a new one live and in person, but I was sure that I was going to be the butt of some jokes. I had Matt and Mike and everybody else writing some material, but how well that was going to work was questionable. I might have to wing it, and that was bound to be a disaster.
I should have known that there was going to be a problem when, as Leno came out to do his routine, a giant screen unfurled behind us. I was sitting next to the podium on the dais (the better to spill your soup down your shirt and have everybody see you do it) with Marilyn next to me. On the other side were John and Cindy, and beyond us were a few other important invitees. The lights dimmed, and Leno stood at the podium, and thanked everybody, and then lit into me.
He started off fairly simply. "I've always wanted to come to the White House Correspondent's Dinner. I wanted to meet the people I watch on television to tell me what is happening in the world. I wanted to meet the people I see the faces of everyday, telling me what the most powerful man in the free world is doing. I wanted to meet the most powerful man in the free world. I mean, really, what an incredible privilege it is to live in a country where the most common of citizens can meet the person who leads his great nation! Let's have a round of applause for this great country!"
There was a dutiful round of applause, and then it got crazy. "I came here to meet the President, and I now stand here at the podium, and I tell you all now, that this person seated here ... he is not the President! This man is an imposter! He appears here under false pretenses, and the real President is elsewhere! Let me show you the proof!"
With that he hit the remote control, and a picture flashed on the screen, the picture of me, Stormy, and Paul O'Neill that Ari had flagged as harmless. "There, there is the real leader of the free world! There is the real President! You can see him sitting there, studying the documents, sitting in between the Secretary of the Treasury, Paul O'Neill, and his handler, one Carl Buckmouse, Buckhouser, Buckmaster, something like that, anyway. That is the real President!"
At this the place began going nuts! Leno did about eight or nine minutes with a string of Photoshopped pictures of Stormy doing various important things - Stormy greeting the Queen of England, Stormy addressing Congress, Stormy parachuting from a C-130. Each shot was more outlandish then the last. Over all of this, Leno was describing what a wonderful and brilliant President Stormy had become. Marilyn was laughing her ass off at all of this, and I just had to join in. I certainly hadn't expected this.
Then it got worse. Leno finished with, "And now I would like to introduce you to the real President! Here tonight, joining us, is the real President of the United States of America!"
A spotlight came on and shifted to the back of the room. Through an open door, in stepped Drew Carey in the dog costume from Saturday Night Live, only now he was smoking a cigar and drinking from a cocktail glass. The room erupted. He slowly made his way through the place, and he must have been wearing a wire, because he was talking to people and making jokes as he worked his way through the tables and up to the podium. He continued his shtick right up to the podium, and then started telling the audience how I had messed up various things by not following his directions properly. "Good help is hard to find!", he complained.
Oh Christ! I had to follow this? Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed.
Chapter 150: Graduations
June, 2002
Charlie came home about a week later, his latest deployment finished. The Tarawa Amphibious Ready Group, which consisted of the Tarawa, the Duluth, and the Fort McHenry, Charlie's ship, had arrived back in Norfolk. I had Captain Miller keep us apprised of the dates. Charlie had a fair bit of accumulated leave, and we told him that we expected him to spend at least some of it with his ancient and creaky parents, before old age and senility took us from him.
So it was that on May 8, a Wednesday, I got a call transferred to my office. "Hello?", I said, answering the call. I hadn't been told who it was, just that I needed to answer it.
"Is this the President of the United States? Really? Wow! You must be important!", sounded a familiar baritone.
"Smart ass! It's good to hear from you. You back on solid ground, where real soldiers work?"
"Only the candy ass ones. Yeah, we just docked this morning. I'll be out of here in an hour. We should be there by late afternoon.", he told me.
"We? Who else is coming?", I asked.
"You'll know when you see him."
"Don't try and be sneaky. I could give you lessons. Your cousin Jack was on the Tarawa, right? You bringing him?"
"That's the plan."
"Sounds fine. I'll see you then." For my next call I called Marilyn, at home with the girls. She promised to bring them down for the night.
Proving that not all pigs are equal, once Charlie and Jack made it off the ship, Charlie called a phone number he carried in his wallet, and contacted the Secret Service. Within an hour a nondescript car picked them up and ferried the boys to the White House. It was probably a heck of a lot simpler that way. Charlie had a motorcycle up on blocks in storage outside of Camp Lejeune, and Jack had a car there as well. Without the car ride, they would have to travel with their compatriots back to Jacksonville, dig their vehicles out and get them running again, and then travel. We could cut out at least a day or two of that.
At about three in the afternoon, Captain Miller was admitted to the Oval Office. "Captain Miller, reporting with party of two.", he announced with a smile. Behind him marched in a pair of Marines in jeans and tee shirts.
I stood up from my desk and moved around it. "And a more disreputable party of two has yet to be found. Thank you, Captain Miller. I appreciate it."
"Sir." Miller took off and left me with my son and nephew. Jack Rottingen, Jr. was a little bigger and heavier than Charlie, and definitely took after his father. Both boys were tan and muscular, with that high-and-tight semi-shaved head look the Marines liked.
I shook both their hands. "Damn, you two look good. How was the cruise?"
"I'm glad to be home!", announced my son.
"Same here.", agreed Jack.
"Have you had a chance to call your folks yet?", I asked my nephew. I looked over at Charlie. "Your mother and sisters will be coming down as soon as school is out. We'll grill something, if that's okay."
"Yeah sure.", he answered.
Jack said, "I called and left a message on the machine, but Dad must not have been home yet, and Mom must be at the hospital. We left a message to call you, if that's okay."
"Sure, no problem." I led the boys towards the door. Opening it, I saw Mindy with my schedule in her hands. "Mindy, you've met Charlie before. This is my nephew, Corporal Jack Rottingen. I need you to do two things. Let housekeeping know Jack will be staying with us tonight, and cancel everything else for the day."
"Welcome home, Charlie. It's good to see you again. Nice to meet you, Corporal." She turned to me and said, "Yes on one and no on two. OMB and the Council of Economic Advisers just got here for a meeting with you."