(Excerpt from “Conspiracy!”
by S.A. Gorman and S.J. Curwick)
The State Department’s Chief of Protocol is observing what sounds to be a very heated argument between two four-star generals. An Old Bulldog of a General with a team of like-minded generals beside him is bent over the table yelling at a Younger General with his own team of like-minded generals on his side.
“Your plan’s not working,” the Old Bulldog General barks. “If you want regime change, we need to go in!”
“That’s not how we do it anymore, Jack,” the Younger General says. “Regime change is no longer accomplished by boots on the ground-”
“Because that’s war...” the Chief of Protocol reminds everyone.
The Younger General accepts the State Department’s interruption as par for the course and continues.
“If you want regime change,” the Younger General explains, “you start with your NGOs to foment discontent with the current regime, while simultaneously encouraging partnership with Western interests...”
“Democracy promotion,” the Protocol Chief offers, helpful.
“...then you orchestrate the overthrow of the existing government...”
“Democratic Uprising,” the PC corrects.
“...which leads to elections in the square...”
“which is not a coup,” the PC makes clear.
“...then we recognize the newly elected regime...”
“the legitimate government,” the PC adds.
“...and then they invite us in,” the Younger General says, giving the Old Bulldog General a condescending smile. “We give them IMF loans and they open up the country to Western investors. We can frack, bring in GMO crops, build nuclear power plants...whatever you want...and no one can say “boo” because it’s just two democratic countries enjoying the benefits of the Free Market.”
The Old Bulldog General folds his arms and gives the Younger General a well-seasoned smile.
“And how’s that working out for you?”
He looks down at the electronic map between them.
“Because from here, it looks like the farmers in the North don’t much care for your fracking and frankenfood...and have picked up their pitch-forks and shovels...”
“which makes them terrorists,” the PC points out.
“...and are beating the shit out of your little band of Nazi mercenaries and drafted high school students-”
“the People’s Army,” the PC corrects.
“...driving them all the way back to the town square, where they were ‘elected’...”
“the recognized government,” the PC reminds.
“...and where ‘the People’s Army’ is now holed-up, cowering like little girls, waiting for someone to swoop in and rescue them,” the Old Bulldog General says, handing the Younger General’s condescending smile right back to him. “While you sit on the sidelines and watch your five year, five billion dollar NGO project go down the drain!”
The Old Bull Dog General gets right in the Younger General’s face.
“So, if you want to frack this fucker, you better do something…and quick!”
The Younger General has visibly deflated during the course of the Old General’s verbal onslaught.
He answers in a measured voice.
“You think we don’t want to do something? You think we wouldn't just loooove to go in there with a full brigade of American troops-”
“Nato forces,” the PC reminds.
“...Nato forces,” the Younger General restates, “backed by airstrikes...”
“which is not boots on the ground,” the PC adds, just to be clear.
“...and drive those farmers-”
“the terrorists,” the PC adds, helpful.
“...back into their barns?!” the Younger General says, finally completing his thought.
The Younger General gets right back in the Old Bulldog General’s face.
“Hell! If it were up to me, Jack, I’d line the friggin’ eastern border with American troops-”
“Nato Forces,” the PC corrects.
“Nato Forces...” the Younger General restates, through gritted teeth.
“Peacekeeping mission - still not boots on the ground,” the PC reminds everybody.
The Younger General continues with his point.
“…then plop down a big ‘open for business’ sign and invite corporate America to the housewarming party!”
“Western investment to bolster their economy,” the PC adds, cheerfully.
The Younger General turns to the Old Bulldog General.
“…but then, Mother Russia looks up and sees a bunch of Nato troops parked on her border, and rightly figures the next thing she’ll see is a U.S. military base-”
“American Embassy,” the PC corrects.
The Old Bulldog General and the Younger General both turn on the PC.
“Oh, shut up!”
The State Department Protocol Chief humbly puts up his hands.
“Just here to observe...”
The Younger General gives the Old Bulldog General a sober look.
“Russia’s gonna have something to say about troops on her border, Jack...and she’s gonna say it with short range nuclear missiles pointed right at the EU. Then we’re just one “fuck you” away from World War III and full on Nuclear War.”
“Still not boots on the ground!” the PC interjects, just sayin’.
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