August 21, 2004: The following story comes courtesy of a fly on the wall in the lower reaches of the New Jersey State House in
Trenton. This fly is a very ancient one, so its language may seem
archaic. None the less, the fly's account seems credible, though
QT warns readers that no other fly from Trenton stepped forward
to substantiate. The buzz is that most are waiting to see which
way the wind blows. Before beginning, a brief
synopsis of recent events in the Garden State:
Last week New Jersey Governor Jim McGreevey, whose administration
has been awash with tales of corruption, came out of the closet
and quit. Saying his gayness made him a security risk. Or
something. His ex-lover and former Homeland Security appointee
(Golan Cipel) was rumored to have a lawsuit charging sexual
harassment in the hopper. Though McGreevey quit, he made his
resignation effective come early November. Which cancels the
possibility of a special election and allows his fellow Democrat,
state Senate President Richard Codey of Essex County to assume
office and hold it until November 2005. Naturally state
Republicans object. But even some Democrats want McGreevey to
hit the road sooner. Many of the latter would like to see New
Jersey's U.S. Senator Jon Corzine run in a special gubernatorial
election. Over the last week, the political jockeying within
McGreevey's party was intense...
The Fly's Tale
Scene: A chamber deep beneath the New Jersey Statehouse. A single
torch lights the room, flickering on the strained faces of the
inner circle and assorted lackeys of Governor Jim McGreevey. The
governor is seated on a battered throne, head in hands. Without
it, his neck doth look vulnerable.
The phone rings. From behind the throne leaps State Senator Ray
Lesniak of Union County. Aka Le Duc. Knocking over his stool in
eagerness to answer. Hello? Anxiety and hope war in his voice.
Has the varlet Golan Cipel resurfaced? Perhaps in Hudson County,
as hostage in the castle of Baron Robert Menendez? Or doth he
languish in the dungeon of Lord John Lynch in Middlesex? Or
will Corzine the Mighty remain crusading for cash in Washington
and leave Codey the Lesser unchallenged as post-Jimbo dispenser
of taxpayer booty and public appointments?
None of the above. Tis His Decadence, recently convicted Lord
Charles Kushner on the honker. Everyone in the room can hear that
the developer is wroth. Spittle sprays from the receiver, forcing
Le Duc to hold it at arms length. McGreevey's head jerks
reflexively at the sound of his largest contributor's voice.
%#$@#&*%#^%$@Port Authority%%@^*%$Touro College*+&%$#@#Christopher J. Christie&%$#@#$%&^%$%^%$#@ saith his Lordship. Many times.
Le Duc tries to be diplomatic. Not wishing to offend the
fabulously wealthy Lord Kushner-- whose collection of x rated
videos is rumored to be as vast as his army of hookers and as
inclusive as his campaign contributions. But Kushner hangs up
before Le Duc can render any grease. Plus another matter demands
Le Duc's attention. A runner from central New Jersey has arrived,
bearing a scroll signed by Middlesex County Freeholder Director
David Crabiel. Le Duc quickly scans it. Then does a Kushner.
Machiavellian%$^%$#%^$#&%* saith Le Duc. Many times.
Crabiel the Craven is circulating a letter amongst the Middlesex
County Democratic gentry, asking them to sign on to a demand that
McGreevey leave office immediately-- not in November. Requesting
that Corzine the Mighty return to the Garden State to restore its
honor and allow the good people of Jersey to "recover from the
shock" of Governor McGreevey's revelations.
"The knave seems to have forgotten that Middlesex County is your
former kingdom" fumes Le Duc to McGreevey "and that his vile
name has been linked to your illustrious one in a federal
investigation into influence peddling in that very same kingdom.
Me thinks Lord Lynch doth pull this puppet's strings!"
McGreevey's head nods in agreement. The lackeys shake theirs in
sympathy. While wondering if Corzine the Mighty is now
But all is not lost. Yet another runner has arrived. And this
one bears glad tidings from the County of Hudson. Baron Robert
Menendez has changed his mind and will not be joining the effort
to joust McGreevey from the saddle! Seems a fair damsel has been
discovered who may hath some dirt on the Baron. Of course no one
in McGreevey's circle has any idea who outed this possible
Golana Cipel and Baron Menendez saith that the matter in no way
influenced his decision. He simply changed his mind. Who can
presume to read the heart of royalty?
The phone rings again. Le Duc is busy rerolling the scroll from
Hudson so a lackey answers. "Corzine the Mighty" she hisses with
her hand over the mouthpiece. Le Duc drops the doc and grabs the
receiver. "Jon!" Le Duc is oily "How goes it in DC?"
To make a longeth tale short, tis good news for McGreevey and
Codey the Lesser. Corzine the Mighty has decided to remain in
Washington and continue to gather ducats for Dems running for
the U.S. Senate. A wearisome task but one that needth doing.
Unlike Corzine the Mighty, not all candidates have enough
treasure to buy political office. Le Duc is mightily relieved,
since crossing swords with an up and coming crony, for the sake
of a spent, but still critically placed one, would be dicey.
Politics in the Kingdom of Jersey are riddled with such tangled
conflicts yet wondrously, the graft flows as smoothly as
the river Avon.
With a sigh of relief Le Duc turns to the Governor. Lifting
McGreevey's head in his hands, he carefully places it on the
governor's neck and screws it down tightly.
"Tis time to get back in the harness Jimbo" saith Le Duc
"you've got the people's work to do."
Carola Von Hoffmannstahl-Solomonoff
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