The Ides and Tides of March

It had taken some time, but conspiracy blogger Glenn Michael Beckmann had finally figured it out!  It was Sarah Palin who had murdered Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia!  She had murdered him for being a member of the International Order of St. Hubertus, the post-Medieval hunting society founded by Catholics and not open to women.  As an Alaskan fundamentalist with dim views of Catholicism, obliviousness to the Hapsburg Empire, and a proud (albeit secret) tenure as President of the co-ed Hunter-Gather Society, Sarah Palin could not tolerate Scalia's membership in the wrong hunting society!

Beckmann was on a bender, having spent Saturday evening drinking at Archibald's and Sunday morning smoking marijuana.  He showed up at the Hunter-Gatherer Society's local Sunday afternoon hunt too messed up to lead the assault on feral pigs wreaking havoc in St. Mary's County.  On the one hand, Palin was grandmother to his secret love child with Bristol Palin, and he had been proud to call her President for years!  On the other hand, she had endorsed fascist Donald Trump and struck a blow against patriotic hunters who had refused admission to Nazis.  What does Sarah Palin stand for?  What do I stand for?  What do I stand against?  He waved his rifle around, asking people where Palin was the afternoon his beloved Darja had been assassinated and, failing to get a satisfactory answer, went off to seek Palin out and ask her himself.

Meanwhile, the ghost of Henry Samuelson had grown impatient with Beckmann's failure to assassinate Donald Trump and (through temporal lobe epileptic John Doe) had sought out others who might do the deed.  The level of violence at Trump rallies warmed his spectral heart, but things had gone on far too long already.  The Ghost CIA had several members excited about Trump's plans to bring back torture of captives, and massacres of women and children, on levels not seen since the Vietnam War, but Ghost Henry railed that Trump was too stupid to make good use of intelligence.  The Ghost CIA, like much of the country, was becoming deeply polarized about Trump.

They also disagreed with Ghost Henry's plan to assassinate Heurich Society President Dick Cheney.  Even though Ghost Henry argued that he had to do it to protect his son, Dulles, the Ghost CIA agents knew that Dulles had made zero progress in discovering his sister's murderer.  The Ghost CIA had done several successful missions around the world, and did not want to jeopardize this by killing Dick Cheney because he might become more powerful as a ghost than he ever was as a man!

So Ghost Henry made a desperate visit to Angela de la Paz.

"There's not a lot I can do," said Angela, who had developed enough supernatural power to speak directly with him now.  "Dulles doesn't believe anything I say."

"I want you to create phony evidence about who killed Button, and then manipulate my son's mind into thinking that he's gotten revenge by killing the person.  I know you can do it if you use your mind tricks!  Then he'll leave Washington and be out of danger."

"Out of danger!" cried Angela, aghast.  "I'm not going to create false memories in his mind that he's a killer!"

"But he wants to be a killer!"

"And you wonder why they kicked you out of Purgatory!"

"Look, I'm serious!  Cheney killed my daughter, and if Dulles sticks around much longer, he'll kill my son, too!  You can't tell me that's not a possibility!"

"I am watching over Dulles!"

"When was the last time I asked you to do anything for me?!" begged Ghost Henry.

"Every single time I see you!"

"But I haven't bothered you in a long time!"

Angela sighed, knowing this was true.  "Alright," she said.  "I'll persuade him to leave town, but I'll find another way."

Meanwhile, Dulles Samuelson was spying on another meeting of the Heurich Society at the Brewmaster's Castle, where they were discussing the Judicial Committee's progress with the Supreme Court problem.

"Justice delayed is justice denied!" exclaimed Chairman Dick Cheney.

"That's not exactly what happened," protested the investment banker.

"Dow Chemical settled a case rather than take it to the Supreme Court because they couldn't wait on the uncertain outcome!"

"They were guilty!" said the Chair of the Subcommittee to Protect the Secret Ogallah Water Diversion (designed to quench the thirst of the elite in the polluted years to come).

"Whose side on you're on!?" bellowed Cheney.

"Now, Dick," crackled Condoleezza Rice over the speaker phone, "we have never been able to control the Supreme Court.  We just need to stick to our practice of influencing the Circuit Courts."

"We don't have that luxury anymore!" cried Cheney.  "God knows what could happen now!  There is talk that Obama might appoint an Asian!"

"Hey!" protested the international arms dealer.  "My wife is Cambodian, Iron Ass!"

"I don't care of your wife is the President of Thailand!  You don't want her on the Supreme Court any more than I do!"

"Could we talk about my work on the DC Republican primary now?" asked the Chair of the Local Politics Subcommittee.  "Marco Rubio!  Nice, right?"

Cheney said nothing, choosing instead to grunt and bite into another heart-healthy, sawdust-tasting snack packed by his wife Lynn.

Several miles to the South, DC Water employee Kevin "Monkey" Mundy was investigating reports of a Chesapeake Bay algae bloom creeping its way towards Washington with every high tide.  It was a cloudy day in the speedboat, but light was reflecting brightly off the cursed Rolex adorning his wrist.  He slowed down, then cut the motor altogether, marveling at the sight of the red tide.  "It's beautiful!" he said to no one in particular.

"Yes it is!" replied the Beaver, who had seen and felt that evil timepiece before.  He slapped his tail hard and disappeared back under the water, satisfied that Monkey was not going to put the red tide in his report.

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COMING UP:  
Reporter Perry Winkle brings back Urban Guerrilla Field Trips!