Politics: Barking at the Wind
a review of a distinguished political career
by
Robert C. Fleet

It is, perhaps, necessary to remember how it came about that Barcley Spears, senator pro tem from the state of Rhode Island, was elected to the Presidency of the United States. "Barc" Spears is now nearing the end of his second term in office, a beloved and much respected figure on both sides of the political aisle. The international community is admittedly not so enthusiastic about our current world leader but, well, they're foreigners. Prejudice probably plays a role, too. Barc Spears is, after all, a dog.

Which is not to say that he is without intelligence or breeding. You won't find a better Chesapeake Bay retriever in the Westchester Kennel Club. On points alone he's top dog, while his sire and bitch credentials go back to a long line of champions. His full moniker, need it be said again, is "Barcley Spears III." Only the Adams and Roosevelt clans could lay claim to such equal parts heritage and accomplishment. Excellent swimmer, keen-eyed hunter, Barc Spears' indefatigable energy is legendary. There has never been a congressman, House of Reps or Senate, who could keep up with him, once unleashed.

In retrospect, his rise to prominence, though swift, should not have been unexpected. The beloved family pet of Rhode Island governor Herman "Pete" Mayflower, Barc Spears was frequently referred to as "smarter than the whole U.S. Congress put together" by his then-master, now-mentor and Secretary of State. Mayflower's battles with federal bureaucracy were frequent and vituperative. The state lost its educational block grants, highway repair funds, and a naval training base - and was under investigation by the Justice Department - all in apparent payback for Mayflower's failure to support his party's national platform. That and calling sitting President Jackson "Billy" Andrews a "money-sucking degenerate scum*** who'd deceive his own father, if he knew who he was." Andrews had been elected on a neo-conservative proto-Christian reformed-reform platform that promised a return to values "of every sort." Personally stung by Mayflower's attacks, the President showed a sour and indiscreet side to his personality when he said aloud at a Cabinet meeting, "Will no one rid me of this miserable pest?" Volunteers were apparently available in overabundance.

And then Fate stepped in. Or, more precisely, Faye - a lap dancer who drilled a bullet into the head of Rhode Island's senior U.S. Senator, Randall "Buckwheat" Milquetoast. With only three months to fill before special elections could be held, Gov. Mayflower had the obligation to appoint a temporary stand-in to take Milquetoast's place on the influential Senate Finance committee, presided over by the feared and ageless Don "Drop the Bomb" MacSon. Whether by contemptuous design or clever research, Mayflower noted that recent "Lifestyle Orientation" legislation had left the door open for cross-species appointments. Barc Spears' tail was wagging at his first Finance committee hearing within a week.

He was an immediate hit with the press and public. Finding that the Senate closets were literally full of skeletons, Barc showed his touch with the common man by bringing his own bones to work, gnawing away at his desk while fat-cat colleagues sipped their Perriers and catered-in expensive luncheons at the taxpayers' expense. On his first day at work the newest Senator from Rhode Island stood on all fours and growled down a motion to raise congressional pay. "I thought he was rabid," lamely explained John "Suzie" Wong, sponsor of the defeated bill, trying to justify his loss of political nerve.

But, of course, Sen. Barc Spears career could just as easily have been cut short like his tail if not for the wholehearted, and unexpected, endorsement by the Committee Chairman himself. True, Sen. Don McSon may have been overly medicated on his anti-Alzheimer's drugs that particular day, but there was no mistaking the true affection the old codger had for his young colleague. "I love that little son of a bitch," he declared proudly, displaying the type of salty figure of speech that had gotten him re-elected by "real homefolk" for over 72 years. The slogan caught on. When Rhode Island's special Senate election was held 11 weeks later, Pet Mayflower's call to action - "Let's put a real s.o.b. in office!" - was answered with an overwhelming write-in victory.

So now Barcley Spears was a legitimate U.S. Senator. A stellar election, but we must always remember his legislative accomplishments as well. Barc's huge popularity did not fail to impress the party hobnobs, their animosity to Pete Mayflower notwithstanding, and they persuaded Pres. Andrews to ease up on the home state of America's most popular legislator. Billy Andrews was no slouch in the political acumen department either. As Barc Spears' poll numbers continued to rise - especially after he urinated on a particularly hideous White House rug, an embarrassing gift from a dictator-ally in Central Asia - the sitting President referred to his current V.P., musing aloud, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Among the party moohahs he "casually" mentioned bringing in Spears as his new running mate in the upcoming national elections. The effect was immediate and electric. Andrews' Vice President., Jesse "Barbecue" O'Reilly, tersely issued a statement that the President was "breaking faith with his core constituency" and announced his own last-minute challenge for the party nomination. Pollsters calculated the odds on an Andrews-Spears candidacy: the super-positive results scared off all serious contenders from both parties.

A backlash was to be expected, of course. It never picked up steam. A few PETA extremists disrupted a political luncheon, decrying Barc Spears weekend hunting trips. "What can we say? The Senator is a retriever," answered a press secretary in written response to the full-page attack ads that soured an otherwise-smooth nomination convention. At a nationally televised debate between vice presidential candidates, Spears' erstwhile opponent, Representative Jill "Jack" Johnson tried unsuccessfully to undermine him with the argument "I knew Lassie, and let me tell you, you're no Rin-Tin-Tin, either." Afterwards, she was forced to concede, "OK, he's a son of a bitch, but I'll toss him this bone: he's no bastard." With a pugnacious and barking public style that combined broad smiles of glee with sudden, hair-raising flashes of anger, Barc Spears - once pointed to a subject - never once swayed from the course. He won the hearts and confidence of the American public the old fashioned way: by personal charm, charisma, and natural intelligence.

It was as an unexpected tragedy, then, that junior Senator Barcley Spears found himself thrust into the role of presidential candidate when Billy Andrews died two weeks before the election. There had been a convention of born-again Christians, a rousing laying-on of hands and speaking in tongues. President Andrews himself presided over a dozen or more ecstatic, halleluiah-filled salvations and recantations. Suddenly the President himself began to shake, jabbering incoherently - obviously filled with the Holy Spirit. Thousands of worshippers cheered him on:
"I - can't -" he gasped.
"YOU - CAN!" they cried.
"I -"
"YOU -"
"AIYEE!-ergump."
"Oh..."

The nation's heartbreak was mirrored in Barc Spears' grief, to which television cameras provided mute witness as he stood over the President's grave and wailed at the full moon. Filled with sadness he attempted to dig through the still-loose earth, scattering flowers everywhere, seeking to embrace his Commander-in-Chief with those strong, decisive jaws that had so often snapped shut on a finger, a nose, an ankle, the fleshy part of the Chief Executive's thigh. The rest is history. Running alone, Barcley Spears was elected seventy-third President of the United States by an electoral vote so narrow it was thrown into the House of Representatives. There were rumors of backroom political deals, and the taint of victory by "sympathy vote" hung over Spears' entire first term. The second electoral victory, four years later, was all Barc Spears', though.

As has been his record of accomplishment. Barc Spears' well known attitude of "Throw me a ball and I'll fetch it - Threaten me with a stick and I'll bite" has led the nation and, and the world, through eight years of peace and prosperity. Hard won at times - who can forget the Siamese cat incident? - but real. Very real. President Barcley Spears is leaving office soon. He's no longer a young dog, even by the advanced standards of modern medical technology. The spring is gone from his step, his grey whiskers remind us of our own mortality. He was a great old dog. He was a great President.

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