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Abstract

noticed they shut up.”</p><p id="82f3">“Yeah, I noticed. What are they — close friends?</p><p id="9e90">“Shhh,” they hissed. “That’s not true!”</p><p id="b996">“Hey, I’m just spitballing here. My primary worry is that the party on the right, thanks to you two and the House Freedom Caucus, will continue to lie to voters. Kevin, why the hell is Santos still in office? He should have been expelled weeks ago.”</p><p id="3ced">“I can’t expel him. We need all the votes we can get,” McCarthy said.</p><p id="3056">“Kevin, none of your bills will pass the Senate; if they do, they will be vetoed by Biden. Once upon a time, Republicans and Democrats would actually talk across the table. But since you started stroking Trump’s overblown ego, the Republican party has gone to shit.</p><p id="b361">“That’s not true, Bruce,” Marjorie interjected. “We’re willing to compromise on debt negotiations.”</p><p id="a460">“Marjorie, the Republican party’s idea of compromise is cutting taxes for the rich and shitting on the people who need help.</p><p id="16ac">“You both know damned well Biden was talking about Rick Scott’s plan to sunset Social Security and Medicare. Why do you think he sat there with that stupid look on his face?</p><p id="c10f">“I’m getting a little lonely up here.”</p><p id="cd8c">“Sorry, God,” I said, feeling a bit contrite.</p><p id="c914">“That is not God,” said Marjorie.</p><p id="bfc1">“Make it rain, Lord,” I muttered.</p><p id="7a23">There was an explosion of thunder and blinding light from lightning. A deluge of rain was now coming down outside.</p><p id="4330">“Marjorie, Kevin, this is the guy who made it rain for 40 days and 40 nights. Do you really want to piss him off?</p><p id="983d">“Bullshit. That’s not God. I talk to him every day,” said Marjorie.</p><p id="1735">“Hey, is that Morgan Freeman?”</p><p id="1e43">I stood and pulled out a chair for God. Personal appearances are rare, but I suspect he’s a tad pissed.</p><p id="6667">“Hey, Morgan. Good to see you. Have a seat.”</p><p id="a10b"><i>(Admit it. You’re now reading this in Morgan Freeman’s voice.)</i></p> <figure id="9fba"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FbjAM2J_D4UY%3Ffeature%3Doembed&display_name=YouTube&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DbjAM2J_D4UY&image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.ytimg.com%2Fvi%2FbjAM2J_D4UY%2Fhqdefault.jpg&key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&type=text%2Fhtml&schema=youtube" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" width="854"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="ef06">Morgan got right to the point.</p><p id="b9ef">“Kevin, I know about the girl in your senior class in high school. The cheerleader with the ample bosom? Yeah, her.”</p><p id="0761">McCarthy was mortified.</p><p id="fc54">“Kevin,” I said. “Close your mouth.”</p><p id="4954">“And Marjorie,” said Morgan, “I know why you’re getting divorced. Maybe we should let Bruce in on the secret.”</p><p id="9b32">“NO!”</p><p id="8f46">I looked outside. The rain was still coming down. There had to be at least three inches of rain already.</p><p id="171e">“Morgan,” I said, pointing out the window.</p><p id="c726">“Whoops.” Morgan snapped his fingers, and the rain stopped. “Now, do you believe me?”</p><p id="cdfc">“Yes!”</p><p id="3a14">“I don’t want to see any more shenanigans or backroom deals in the House cloakroom. Do I make myself clear,” Morgan asked.</p><p id="5b44">“And don’t stick Bruce with the bill. Or should I tell him some of your secrets?”</p><p id="7871">“No,” said Kevin as he looked at Marjorie.</p><p id="f9b1">“I’ll pay,” Marjorie said.</p><figure id="04d5"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*fukncwRJhlnXZTWn"><figcaption><b>Marjorie whips out her credit card. </b>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@vantaymedia?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">V

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an Tay Media</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="9f99">“Will you look at that, Morgan? She’s already got her credit card out.”</p><p id="5a01">Morgan smiled and shook my hand as we rose from the table.</p><p id="ab43">“I’ll be watching you two,” looking at Greene and McCarthy.</p><p id="4dbe">With that, He was gone, but not without a reminder. Thunder cracked over our heads.</p><p id="4f50">I smiled and ordered the biggest fucking steak I could find on the menu.</p><p id="f7b3">“Thanks, God.”</p><p id="acf0">If you’ve read this far, thank you for stopping by.</p><p id="1000"><i>I accept tips, which go directly to <a href="https://www.diningforhunger.com">Dining for Hunger</a>, a recognized 501(c)(3) organization that looks to end food insecurity. If you can spare a dollar or two, I’d be grateful.</i></p><p id="f7df">More stories from Bruce Coulter.</p><div id="f4ca" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/write-the-way-you-feel-and-be-fucking-real-36a7f6447b0"> <div> <div> <h2>Write the Way You Feel and Be Fucking Real</h2> <div><h3>Medium has offered me a wild ride, and I’m lovin’ it</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*tv29DgjbokNsyQdc)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="d4d6" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-king-tribute-will-embrace-your-heart-and-soul-b6c6247c5a05"> <div> <div> <h2>The King Tribute Will Embrace Your Heart and Soul</h2> <div><h3>Critics like to hear the sound of their own voices. Ignore them.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*H8pfzUk2oZAN1qEdHBtUxg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="2a00" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/life-happens-but-only-if-youre-lucky-51e82e955513"> <div> <div> <h2>Life Happens, But Only if You’re Lucky</h2> <div><h3>Whether it’s real life or online, humans go through a lot during their lives</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*Ymfk3BcTLRMes1LJvYd-Cw.png)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="c4f7" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/for-a-decade-i-photographed-city-events-fa77dd2ed48b"> <div> <div> <h2>For a Decade, I Photographed City Events</h2> <div><h3>I never made a dime and seldom had more fun</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*Bz0e56gxUOR2Q5iJPk0SAw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="fe31" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/i-look-better-in-a-black-cocktail-dress-than-my-cousin-1d400c5d0781"> <div> <div> <h2>I Look Better in a Black Cocktail Dress Than My Cousin</h2> <div><h3>BJ’s This or That: Galentine’s Day Challenge (For Francophiles)</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*RjRjUv5vH63ICgaw)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

SATIRE

Dinner With Marjorie Taylor Greene Was a Challenge; Never Again

She didn’t like being called Cruella, but if the fur fits, wear that fucker

**Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene is sworn in by Speaker of the House, Kevin McCarthy.** This United States Congress image is in the public domain.

Author’s note: All conversations in my dinner stories occur only in my head. I offer readers sarcasm, satire, and, hopefully, blatant humor. — BC

The word in the nation’s capital is I’m an easy touch for a free meal. The pols in Congress make $174K annually, plus whatever perks they vote to give themselves. Why the fuck do they need a free meal from me?

I shouldn’t have been surprised when an aide for Marjorie Taylor Greene called about meeting her for lunch — at the Capital Grille in Burlington. Dinner for two runs at least $225, plus tip. Yeah, that’s fucking awesome.

Massachusetts is the last place I’d expect Cruella to visit. It doesn’t matter how much she humps Trump’s leg; neither of them will rack up enough votes to win here. The Trump ticket won 32 percent of the vote in 2016 and 2020, but it’s unlikely he will top those numbers in 2024 — IF he wins the nomination.

So here I was, waiting on Marjorie to show up. I make $60k as a retiree, and I’m buying dinner. Worse yet, you’re not getting into the Capital Grille unless you dress appropriately. On top of probably being stuck with the bill, I have to buy a decent suit to walk in the door. What the actual fuck?

I feel a tap-tap on my shoulder and turn around. There stands Marjorie with Kevin McCarthy in tow. Are you shitting me?

“Why is he here,” I asked, pointing at him.

“I needed someone to help me with the lay of the land,” she said. “And he holds my leash.”

“I do not hold your leash, Marjorie. Is someone going to introduce me,” he asked.

I had a weird moment with Marjorie when we both turned to McCarthy and said in unison: “Shut up, Kevin.”

At least I’ll get my money’s worth because the tab just jumped. Fuckers.

The waiter showed us to our table, which was, thankfully, in a discreet corner of the restaurant. I’m not suggesting the staff was trying to hide us (they were, and I don’t blame them) or saving my ass from being seen in public with the dynamic dimwits.

After ordering drinks, Marjorie started in on me.

“Why the fuck are you calling me Cruella,” she demanded.

“I stole it from Twitter. While we’re on that topic, have you looked at the photos of you in that fucking outfit you wore?”

“I looked great at the State of the Union!”

“Yeah. You were fine until you stood up and gave Biden a thumbs down like he was a Christian waiting for the lions. When did you become emperor?

“That’s empress to you!”

“Pffft. Not in Kevin’s wettest dreams.”

“Leave me out of this,” said McCarthy.

Me and Marjorie, in unison: “Shut up, Kevin.”

“Look here. I’m the speaker of the House,” he said with exasperation.

“Yeah, after 15 ballots and Lord knows how many backdoor deals,” I said.

Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed from overhead.

“I know how many,” said God.

Marjorie and Kev looked like they’d just wet their pants.

“What was that,” Marjorie asked, looking around.

“That is God,” I said.

“Bullshit,” they screamed.

God lowered his voice so only Marjorie and Kevin could hear him.

They looked stricken.

“Are you gonna let me in on the joke?”

“No joke, Bruce. I’m sure you’ve noticed they shut up.”

“Yeah, I noticed. What are they — close friends?

“Shhh,” they hissed. “That’s not true!”

“Hey, I’m just spitballing here. My primary worry is that the party on the right, thanks to you two and the House Freedom Caucus, will continue to lie to voters. Kevin, why the hell is Santos still in office? He should have been expelled weeks ago.”

“I can’t expel him. We need all the votes we can get,” McCarthy said.

“Kevin, none of your bills will pass the Senate; if they do, they will be vetoed by Biden. Once upon a time, Republicans and Democrats would actually talk across the table. But since you started stroking Trump’s overblown ego, the Republican party has gone to shit.

“That’s not true, Bruce,” Marjorie interjected. “We’re willing to compromise on debt negotiations.”

“Marjorie, the Republican party’s idea of compromise is cutting taxes for the rich and shitting on the people who need help.

“You both know damned well Biden was talking about Rick Scott’s plan to sunset Social Security and Medicare. Why do you think he sat there with that stupid look on his face?

“I’m getting a little lonely up here.”

“Sorry, God,” I said, feeling a bit contrite.

“That is not God,” said Marjorie.

“Make it rain, Lord,” I muttered.

There was an explosion of thunder and blinding light from lightning. A deluge of rain was now coming down outside.

“Marjorie, Kevin, this is the guy who made it rain for 40 days and 40 nights. Do you really want to piss him off?

“Bullshit. That’s not God. I talk to him every day,” said Marjorie.

“Hey, is that Morgan Freeman?”

I stood and pulled out a chair for God. Personal appearances are rare, but I suspect he’s a tad pissed.

“Hey, Morgan. Good to see you. Have a seat.”

(Admit it. You’re now reading this in Morgan Freeman’s voice.)

Morgan got right to the point.

“Kevin, I know about the girl in your senior class in high school. The cheerleader with the ample bosom? Yeah, her.”

McCarthy was mortified.

“Kevin,” I said. “Close your mouth.”

“And Marjorie,” said Morgan, “I know why you’re getting divorced. Maybe we should let Bruce in on the secret.”

“NO!”

I looked outside. The rain was still coming down. There had to be at least three inches of rain already.

“Morgan,” I said, pointing out the window.

“Whoops.” Morgan snapped his fingers, and the rain stopped. “Now, do you believe me?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t want to see any more shenanigans or backroom deals in the House cloakroom. Do I make myself clear,” Morgan asked.

“And don’t stick Bruce with the bill. Or should I tell him some of your secrets?”

“No,” said Kevin as he looked at Marjorie.

“I’ll pay,” Marjorie said.

**Marjorie whips out her credit card.** Photo by Van Tay Media on Unsplash

“Will you look at that, Morgan? She’s already got her credit card out.”

Morgan smiled and shook my hand as we rose from the table.

“I’ll be watching you two,” looking at Greene and McCarthy.

With that, He was gone, but not without a reminder. Thunder cracked over our heads.

I smiled and ordered the biggest fucking steak I could find on the menu.

“Thanks, God.”

If you’ve read this far, thank you for stopping by.

I accept tips, which go directly to Dining for Hunger, a recognized 501(c)(3) organization that looks to end food insecurity. If you can spare a dollar or two, I’d be grateful.