George W. ushered in the Oligarchic era of American history. While at his vacation home in Kennebunkport, ME he was told of the young sage, Siegfried Johann Gundersmach, who stayed in the nearby city of Portland. W.‘s aides informed him of many peculiar legends concerning Siegfried. One said that as an infant he was abandoned on a stoop with a name tag in the folds of his maternity blanket.

One thing was certain, Siegfried was wise beyond his years. People would allow him to sit quietly in a room, acting as though he wasn’t there. He would sit so still, so unaffected, that they would reveal increasingly specific details of their private selves; in their intimate backstage voices gleefully pouring themselves into one another. Sometimes couples would even explore their physical bodies in his presence. Hearing all of this, George W. ordered a motorcade to escort him to the downtown square where he was told Siegfried could often be found juggling clubs of fire. 

He asked the young sage to speak toward his ambitions. Siegfried sat pensive for a while (to the point that George W. thought he might have fallen asleep) before answering.

‘My ambitions are the sum of yours and mine divided by the gross domestic product.’

George W. was baffled by this answer, but with his frat-boy charm he barreled ahead unfazed.

“Well, that sounds all right to me. How about this: how would you like to serve your country, son?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’d like to offer you a job.”
“I already have a job.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“I’m making a movie”
“Oh really? Cool. What’s it about?”

“Did you ever notice that in a crowded place, like a train station or an elevator, children are the only people on earth who seek true and unguarded emotion in facial expressions rather than trying to figure out motives. In the end all a child wants is a friendly face or a goofy face or some sort of instruction.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a plot, but I’m not much of a film buff.” W. paused, hoping the delay would inspire an explanation, but Siegfried just looked back in pleasant anticipation.

“Look, I’ll be honest, I’ve heard some stunning things about you; during the summer you live in a barrel? you masturbated on the steps of city hall? I think you would make a great leader.”

“I’m sorry sir, I have to disrespectfully decline. I’d like to maintain my bid for uselessness.”
“Why would you do that?”
“If you’re no use at all who’ll come to bother you?”

George W. suddenly appeared to confront his profound loneliness. His finely tailored suit now appeared a heavy cape draped over his shoulders; his once rock hard plume of hair now blew restlessly in the ocean breeze. He made on easy attempt at a smile and ducked into his car, under a secret service agent’s arm. He didn’t show any signs of wanting to look back.

Featured photo: Boothby Square by Corey Templeton,