In My World: Madame Secretary

“Powell, you look different,” Bush said, “More determined, fiercer, much scarier… and you’re wearing a skirt. I like it.”
“It’s me, Condoleezza Rice,” Condi stated, “I’ve replaced Colin Powell as Secretary of State, remember?”
“No, not all. And, since I forget what that is, I don’t care. So do you have some department to run or something? This is my pencil sharpening day and I don’t like to be bothered.”
“I run the State Department and handle diplomacy!” Condi shouted indignantly.
“Diplomacy,” Bush chuckled as he sharpened a pencil, “Well, have fun talking and writing memos and stuff, goober.”
“I’m going to take things in another direction,” Condi declared.
“Shh! Can’t hear the sharpening!”
Condi left the Oval Office and saw Donald Rumsfeld outside. “Now I’m a cabinet member like you,” she said cheerily.
“Bah!” Rumsfeld grumbled, “You’re Secretary of State. You have to talk to people and forge relations – women’s work! Why don’t you get to that and knitting while I plot the destruction of nations’ infrastructures.”
Condi growled and stomped off.


“Great,” Condi grumbled to herself, “My memo on the State Department’s new direction got blocked because our e-mail filter’s out vulgarity. I guess I’ll just have to set the new tone by burning something prominent and then announce our new mission statement: ‘Death to our enemies!'”
The phone rang at her desk. “What?” Condi demanded.
“It’s your auto mechanic, Dr. Rice. It’s going to take longer to get out those dents than I thought. What exactly did you hit?”
“A California Senator. What of it?”
“Well, there’s dents in the front and back…”
“And there is a little thing called the reverse gear. Now get it done!”


“This is your first diplomatic meeting,” Condi said to herself, “Now don’t get nervous.” She then walked into the office.
Jacques Chirac approached her with his hand extended. “I would like to say…”
A sharp punch sent Chirac to the floor gripping his bloody nose. “You have nothing to say that interests me,” Condi spat at him.
“You warmongering fool!” Chirac shouted as he got to his feet, “What are you doing?”
“Just getting off on the right foot!” Condi said as she kicked Chirac in the crotch.
“Aieee!” Chirac screeched, “You kicked me so hard, my testicles have swollen to the size of grapes!”
“Don’t bore me with your hyperbole,” Condi stated. “So, am I going to have problems with you?”
“Here; I surrender!” Chirac tossed some keys and a disk to Condi. “Here are the keys to our buildings and all our codes!”
Condi tossed them back at him. “You country is useless to me. Now stay out of the U.S.’s way.”
Chirac curled into a fetal position. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Off to a great start,” Condi smiled as she walked off.


“So, now I think you can understand how the Iraqi elections are a new turning point for the Middle East,” Condi said. She then turned to the Germans behind her. “Do you think he can hear me through the drywall?”
“Maybe you could remove his head from it?” suggested one German.
“I’ll take his head out of the wall when I want his head out of the wall!” Condi shouted.


“Condi!” Bush yelled, stopping her in the hallway, “While I was emptying out my pencil shavings, I heard that you’ve been beating up foreign diplomats and a news report that you’re the first Secretary of State to use a sock full of nickels in negotiations.”
“I’m making my own style,” Condi declared.
“I dunno…”
“I read it all in a book somewhere,” Condi assured.
“Well, as long as it’s from a book,” Bush said dubiously. “Still, how you put Abbas in the hospital for a week is going to slow down negotiations in Israel. On the other hand, I really wanted to spend that weekend playing videogames anyway, so good work.”
“Thanks.” Condi walked off.
Alberto Gonzales ran to Bush. “When do I get to be Attorney General?” Alberto demanded, “I want to torture terrorists!”
“I know; we all do,” Bush answered sympathetically, “but you have to wait until after your confirmation hearing during which the Democrats will all yell at you.”
“I’ll lock them up and torture them too!” Alberto swore.
“All in good time, my Mexican friend. All in good time.”