How I made it into the inner recesses of the White House remains a mystery to me, but there I was in the War Room of the CIA Office of Political Disinformation. I had to hurdle a number of obstructions that would have stopped dead any spy getting in and ended up standing before a tall, imposing gentleman with dark glasses who said:
“I’m Bert, the station command officer. You’re Frank Kennedy?”
“I think I’ve told 10 people that already today,” I replied.
“Security’s tight around here, but you wouldn’t have gotten this far without clearance from the top – Obama’s right hand man, Cliff Rogers.”
“You were on Air Force One with him and the president recently on the trip to Notre Dame.”
“Yes, he spoke very highly of you. Cliff said you were a good Canadian friend of the president.”
“I am?!” I said. “That was nice of him. What’s this important job I’ve been offered?”
“We’ve been looking for a pro-lifer with powerful, inside connections and Cliff said you are the man for the job.”
“I am?!” I said, startled.
“Yes,” Bert said. “We’re trying to bring the pro-life constituency in the U.S. on board with the Democratic party. Obama has alienated them and we’re trying to fix that problem.”
“You mean like having Obama reverse himself and denounce partial-birth abortion and threaten stiff sentences for wrong-doers?”
“Well,” Bert said, startled, “nothing quite that radical, but you’re thinking in the right direction, Fred.”
“Sorry. We’ve got a committee meeting in the next room – maybe you could run some of your ideas by them for them to kick around. Shall we join them?”
I agreed and we entered a sparsely furnished boardroom with a long table, chairs gathered around it and a big blackboard at the end of the room. There was a suspicious-looking group of people coldly eyeing me.
Bert introduced me as a strong anti-abortionist with some innovative ideas on how to bring pro-life voters into the Democratic party camp.
The men were youngish university types, sporting dark glasses and casually dressed, while the women – half of them were smartly dressed and the rest looked like they escaped from a gay pride parade. I gave my impromptu presentation:
“Obama’s star is fading fast and, come the end of his term, the Democratic party may desperately need access to a new pool of voters. May I suggest you make it the pro-life voters?”
Bert cut in with a question. “What happens if we get all the anti-abortion voters and lose our traditional base – the gays and the lesbians, Fred?”
“It’s Frank. I put it to you, Bert: the majority of Democrats will never quit the Democratic party because they think they’re God’s chosen people. As an outsider, I could suggest a few things you could do to attract pro-lifers to your party.”
“Like what?” a young guy wearing a black T-shirt asked.
“If the Democratic party wants the pro-life vote, it’s got to go out to them.”
“How?” he asked.
“Get me a computer and I’ll leave you a pile of proposals that, if you act on them, will swing the whole pro-life vote to the Democratic party.”
“It will?! Get Fred a computer!” ordered Bert. And so they did.
They also got me a quiet, secure office nearby and I rattled off a slew of pro-life proposals. Having finished them, I found Bert’s office empty and locked. I left. I intended to bill them later when I got back to Canada.
But, on the plane, I realized I must’ve pressed the wrong button and my whole submission appeared on White House stationery. It was released to all media outlets with worldwide TV coverage!
Panic reigned! What I saw on TV was: “U.S. President Barrack Obama, acting on the advice of powerful senior White House officials, said today he will only allow abortion after 48 weeks! Obama ruled same-sex ‘marriage’ illegal, illicit and immoral. Obama also banned partial-birth abortions and ordered life sentences for convicted child pornographers. Obama also ordered that pro-life coverage was to be balanced and fair.”
And there was lots after that. People on the plane wanted to know if I was the “Fred” Kennedy rumoured behind this whole sabotage of President Obama and the Democratic party. I told them that I was not Fred, but Frank Kennedy and showed them my identification. That seemed to satisfy them. I didn’t bother billing the CIA for my contribution. I felt I was well paid.