We Can’t Have A Rock Going Up Roosevelt’s Nose.
A parable about politics.
“The most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” Ronald Regan
They were hardly mountains at first, at least not what we think of as mountains in the conventional sense.
If anything, they looked more like big abstract granite sculptures breaking through people’s lawns. But they kept growing, heaving water systems, sewers and light standards out of the ground. Further inland, a rock formation in a field outside Dearborn, Michigan, looked so much like Stonehenge, anthropologists were invited to determine if it might be an old extra-terrestrial landing site.
A mining engineer in Utah blasted a rock formation rising in his garden. Days later, it had grown back like a giant animal’s horn. Across the southern Bible Belts, pastors and evangelists alike warned congregations to repent before the “stone fingers of hell rose up and dragged them down into flaming pits.”
The president felt it would cause panic, even as the formations were destroying highways and tourist destinations.
Meanwhile in Washington, the president and Joint Chiefs of Staff debated what to do next. Some members of Congress were pressing for a state of emergency. The president felt it would cause panic, even as the formations were destroying highways and tourist destinations. He maintained that the rock formations would disappear, possibly when the ground was thawed that spring. “They’ll go back where they came from,” he said.
When the National Institute of Seismic Activity disputed this, funding was cut. Eventually, the Ways and Means Committee deemed the department unnecessary. What few staff remained were transferred over to The Department of Natural Resources.
As the fall election approached, the president blamed the Democrats and media for exaggerating the impact of these mountains, calling everyone “big babies” in his daily tweets.
He continued to downplay the situation until he was golfing at his private golf course in Florida over the Labor Day Weekend. One of his balls careened off a granite spire which hadn’t been there the day before. He was photographed beating on it with a nine iron.
Flying back to Washington the following day, he called a meeting of the Chiefs of Staff. When they entered the room, he was looking at the front page of the Rapid City Journal. A large spire-like rock had grown at the base of Mount Rushmore. A caption said it looked like it was going up Teddy Roosevelt’s nose.
“First my golf course, now it’s the twenty-sixth president of the United States. I’m getting damned worried here. What’re we gonna do?”
“What the hell’s happening to this world?” the president said, sucking on an antacid. His acid reflux was acting up. “First my golf course, now it’s the twenty-sixth president of the United States. I’m getting damned worried here. What’re we gonna do?”
Sitting at the other end of the table was a scientist from The Institute of Seismic Activity. Dr. Maynard was a last minute addition. Nobody was sure if they needed an earthquake expert or not, since nothing appeared on the Richter scale, meaning the mountains appeared with little or no vibration at all.
“Well, Maynard?” the president said to him. “You’re the expert on this stuff. What do we do about these things?”
“Mr. President,” Dr. Maynard said, his thick spectacles seeming to fog, “these mountains, as you call them, shouldn’t surprise us considering the Earth is essentially a ball of volcanic magma. If we look at the topography of other planets, granite formations, some quite epic in size, are very common.”
“Who cares about other planets?” the president said, tossing the Rapid City Journal over to him. “I’ve got an election coming up. These rocks are destroying Mount Rushmore, for chrissake.”
“To be honest, Mr. President,” Dr. Maynard said, “I’m not sure we can do anything. Based on the Earth’s composition — ”
“We can’t have a rock going up Teddy Roosevelt’s nose. He’s one of our most beloved presidents. Can’t we nuke these stupid things?”
“I’m not interested in composition,” the president interrupted, grabbing the Rapid City Journal again. “We can’t have a rock going up Teddy Roosevelt’s nose. He’s one of our most beloved presidents. Can’t we nuke these stupid things?”
The Secretary of Defence spoke up at this point. “We’re already dealing with lowering sea levels, Mr. President,” he said. “Half our major ports are too shallow for container ships. Nuclear eruptions could cause chasms and make it worse.”
“Is this true, Maynard?” the president asked.
“Possibly,” Dr. Maynard said. “Any sort of nuclear activity below ground would cause chasms. They could drain all the fresh water out of our lakes and aquafers. Quite likely, they would.”
“Jesus,” the president said, “Isn’t there anything we do?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Dr. Maynard said, “Usually continental plates stabilize. If that’s what we’re dealing with here, we may have to wait for that to happen.”
“We can’t wait, Maynard,” the president said, “The media’s going to crucify us if we don’t act now. What are other countries doing, for chrissake? They must have the same problem.”
“China turned one of them into a ski hill,” The Secretary for Foreign Affairs said. “Up in the Jiangsu province.”
“So why don’t we do that?” the president said. “We ski more than the bloody Chinese.”
“I wouldn’t advise it, Mr. President,” Dr. Maynard said. “These formations are still growing. Any infrastructure would be destroyed in a matter of weeks — ski lifts, particularly.”
“Mr. President,” The Chief of Foreign Affairs said. “Didn’t the Chinese conduct low-level nuclear tests at the Lop Nur site last year? We could blame them.”
“So what can we do, Maynard?” the president said, “I got the primaries to worry about. This could kill us.”
“Mr. President,” The Chief of Foreign Affairs said. “Didn’t the Chinese conduct low-level nuclear tests at the Lop Nur site last year? We could blame them.”
“Blame them for what?” the president said.
“Causing the tectonic plates to shift. Isn’t that what’s causing this, Dr. Maynard? Aren’t we dealing with an upheaval?”
“Quite possibly,” Dr. Maynard replied. “I’m not sure we can blame the Chinese, though. We do nuclear testing as well.”
“Anything this year?” the president asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, Mr. President.”
“Well, then, let’s blame the Chinese for now. Just say they’ve been conducting low-level nuclear tests, and possibly upsetting the — what are they upsetting exactly, Maynard?”
“Transcontinental plates,” Maynard replied.
“Yeah, go with that,” the president said. “And tell’m we’re working on a solution to save our farmers, our marine industry and, hell, whatever else you can think of. Make sure the emphasis is on the Chinese. They’re skiing while I’m saving our economy.”
“I’ll get right on it, Mr. President,” the Press Secretary said. “Are we going after the Chinese for reparations?”
“God, no. They won’t pay, anyway. What’s happening to Teddy at Mount Rushmore?”
“The rock’s still going up his nose,” the Secretary for the Interior said.
“Get some jackhammers over there. I can’t lose South Dakota. We need the swing states, gentlemen.”
“Dynamite might be faster, Mr. President.”
“Good thinking. The sooner we get that rock out of Teddy’s nose, the sooner we can turn this election around.”
It was removed, but not before a newspaper featured the headline: “What have the Republicans done with Washington’s chin?”
The following day, a blast occurred at Mount Rushmore. It could be heard as far north as Keystone and Breezy Point. When the dust settled, Roosevelt was clear of all rock protuberances, but part of Washington’s chin was found on a rock pile below. It was removed, but not before a newspaper featured the headline: “What’re the Republicans doing with Washington’s chin?”
As the primaries, neared, the president complained that the media was paying more attention to Washington’s chin than the fact that Roosevelt didn’t have a rock up his nose anymore.
“We’re getting massacred out there,” he said.
In the end, the election was a landslide for the opposition who immediately set up committees. The first goal was to categorize the mountains for stability and their potential removal. They called upon Dr. Maynard of The Institute of Seismic Activity.
“As I told the last president,” Dr. Maynard said in the first meeting, “ there’s very little we can do. Eventually, the tectonic plates should stabilize. When is anybody’s guess.”
“Will the mountains recede?” the new president asked. He’d just returned from a G7 meeting where all member countries claimed these mountains were causing a major economic crash.
“Hard to say,” Maynard admitted. “We see this sort of thing in the oceans. Some keep growing.”
“How big do they get?”
“Taller than Mount Everest, in some instances.”
“Can’t we nuke these things?”
“The Republicans asked about that, too, Mr. President. It could cause major chasms, possibly draining all fresh water.”
“What did they say to that?”
“They decided to blame the Chinese. Seems they were building ski hills. The president didn’t like that one bit.”
“Ski hills?”
“Yes, sir. That’s when someone brought up their low-level nuclear testing. The president decided to blame everything on them.”
“How did the Chinese respond?”
“They reminded us of Hiroshima, Nagasaki and the Bikini Atoll. It’s hard to argue with history, Mr. President.”
“You right, Maynard, they definitely had us there. What happened with Washington’s chin, by the way?”
“They’re thinking of gluing it back on.”
“So where does that leave us? Any way of getting rid of these mountains without destroying our lakes and aquafers?”
Busloads of people were arriving, demanding the mountains be removed from their towns and villages.
Dr. Maynard didn’t have a chance to answer. The vice president entered the room, saying there were demonstrations out front. Busloads of people were arriving, demanding the mountains be removed from their towns and villages. The new president slumped in a chair by the fireplace. The vice president sat across from him. “We’ll need to make a statement,” the vice president said. “Should we say we’re studying the situation? Perhaps we could develop a ten-point plan. It’ll buy us time.”
“Sure, do that, Fred. It’s better than nothing.”
The vice president left the room. The new president stood up and went to the window, hands clasped behind his back. Down below, growing crowds were waving signs. Police had set up barricades. More police vehicles arrived, more media, then police on horseback. The crowds surged, then retreated, then surged again. It was like watching a human wave crashing against the Capital building’s front steps.
The new president scratched a mole on his neck, Dr. Maynard wiped his glasses. In the distance, not far from the Capital building itself, granite fingers were poking out of the ground. Against the green lawns, they looked placid, almost harmless.
They were both imagining the granite fingers growing, grabbing the Washington Monument, then the Lincoln Memorial.
The phone was ringing. Neither man looked over. They were both imagining the granite fingers growing, grabbing the Washington Monument, then the Lincoln Memorial.
“What’s going to happen to us, Maynard?” the president said.
“No idea, Mr. President,” Dr. Maynard replied.
They were watching the secret service chasing a man with a placard around the fingers. He was tackled and dragged off.
“What does the sign say?” the president asked.
“I can’t read it,” Dr. Maynard said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No, Mr. President, at this point, I guess it doesn’t.”
