2012

The Ninety-Nine Percent Party
[Go to beginning]

Karl Rove rushed into the small meeting room and began to set things up for the meeting he had scheduled. Rove had been busy. His meeting with Buddy Roemer had set in motion the various actions needed to form the third party that Rove hoped would draw significant votes away from Obama in the 2012 Presidential Election. Rove had recruited a team of people to infiltrate the Occupy Wall Street movement and, having established their bone-fides, file the necessary paperwork and pay the fees required for third party registration.

Rove’s deep pockets donors had ponied up all the money needed to pay Rove’s infiltration team, pay filing fees, and pay for getting people registered in the new party. This would take a lot of door-to-door, and shopping mall-to-shopping mall legwork and Rove already had people out doing it. It was all about money, and Rove had more ‘Bush Pioneers’ ready, willing, and able to contribute. In addition, Rove had already drafted a party platform and it was in Buddy Roemer’s hands for review. Rove had stressed to Roemer that the draft be kept “Close hold -- your eyes only.”

Rove was spending the morning conducting a brainstorming session with a few of his confidants to come up with a name for the new party. The meeting participants straggled in carrying cups of Starbuck's coffee. It was a good thing, because Rove hadn't had time to arrange 'refreshments.'

Rove thanked everyone for coming and then said, "Grab a seat anywhere. Let's get right into this. I have another meeting this morning."

Rove explained the rules for brainstorming, which he felt anyone used to this sort of exercise should know, but still. After a little prompting, ideas started to come fast and furious. Some of the participants seemed to get carried away proposing names like, America’s Party, Patriot Party, and so on, forgetting apparently, that the Occupy Wall Street party, whatever they called it, had to have a socialist flavor.

The idea was to de-emphasize traditional American entrepreneurial values. Rove had stopped writing proposed names on the electronic white board and reiterated the theme he was after. Finally this sunk in and the group started coming up with more appropriate names, like Citizen’s Party, American Socialist Party, People’s Party, Worker’s Party, and Labor Party, all of which, Rove had to point out, had already been used at one time or another.

One of the participants said, “We could name the party after an animal, like the Bull Moose Party.”

“Yeah, only we should call it the Bull Shit Party, said another man, whom Rove had brought in from the DCI Group. This guy was named John Murphy. Rove called him, ‘Murph,’ a tendency to use a shortened version of a person’s last name that he’d picked up from George W. Bush. Murph had a perpetual smirk on his face that along with his comb-over hair made him look like a standup comedian. But he was about as funny as a heart attack. He was meeting with Rove after the brainstorming session to discuss the ‘metrics’ that Rove was seeking on congressional house and senate elections.

“The name, Bull Moose Party, was just a kind of catch phrase used for Teddy Roosevelt’s Progressive Party,” Rove said. “But coming up with a name like that isn’t a bad idea.”

“What about just calling it the Occupy Party?” one of brainstormers suggested.

“Sounds like we’re talking about American troops in Iraq,” Chris Burgess said.

Rove frowned, despite his explanation of how brainstorming was supposed to work, no one could refrain from criticizing the ideas of others. And Burgess was one of the most negative people Rove knew. He had him in the session to stroke his ego; Burgess had a lot of money, which he’d made perfecting methods of anonymous spamming, SPAM filter avoidance measures, and botnets that surreptitiously collected data from targeted computers.

“How about the Ninety-Nine Percent Party?” Giles Jeter said.

“Ninety-nine percent of what?” said Burgess.

Rove ignored Burgess and wrote down the suggestion on the white board. “Okay, we’ve got enough to go on,” Rove announced, hitting the print button on the white board. “Thanks for all your help. I’ll throw these at Buddy and we’ll see what sticks.”

As meeting participants filed out of the room, Rove walked over to John Murphy and handed him the white board printout. "Murph, see that your guy...what's his name..., Chris or Chip something, registers domain names for all of these. And have him register for dot com and dot org," Rove said.

Rove was aware of the problem that Rick Perry and some other Republican candidates had when they failed to stake their claim to a domain name and found supporters or potential supporters being redirected to the web sites of other candidates, advertising, or even pornography. Potential Democratic voters had to take the new third party seriously, if they were to be lured away from the primary Democratic ticket.

"Okay, Murph, outline what your guys have come up with on the metrics," Rove said, looking down at his BlackBerry to check messages.

"Yeah, so we've got credit card purchases, cell phone records, mortgage reports, that kinda crap, and we hacked into that VoteBuilder data--"

"I don't want to know how you got your data," Rove said.

"Right," Murphy said, drawing out the word to indicate he understood Rove's need for deniability. "So, we have data on Democratic voters, you know, stuff like name, address, phone number--"

"Do you have ethnicity, age, employment?" Rove asked.

"Oh yeah, Murphy said. "We know whether they're massage therapists or welders, whether they hunt or bird watch, what charities they donate to, their arrest records, all that stuff."

"Good, good," Rove said.

Murphy went on to described the analyses that DCI was producing to help Rove's American Crossroads PAC target potential Democratic voters who might be persuaded to swing over to an Occupy Wall Street third party. "Hey, we're using social network analysis, and some kind of visualization software that--"

"Yeah, well that's nice," Rove said. "But what I really want to know is when I can get my hands on the results."

"I'll check with Chip, but I think we can get most of it to you this week," Murphy said.

Rove was texting, and didn't respond.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

2012: Synopsis

Karl Rove is working covertly to establish a third party candidacy in the 2012 Presidential Election. His plan is to grow the third party from the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) protest movement. The party will have a carefully formulated, left-of-liberal platform designed to pull votes from Barack Obama’s reelection bid.

Rove wants a relatively well-known person to be the new party’s candidate and is negotiating with Buddy Roemer to be the party’s standard bearer. Although Roemer is a Republican, he used to be a Democrat, and he has openly supported the OWS movement.

Roemer has also appeared on Stephen Colbert, and received the famous ‘Colbert Bump.’ Roemer hasn’t said ‘no.’

Rove plans to ‘infiltrate’ the OWS movement and use his plants to carry out his false flag operation. His infiltrators will form the third party, claiming to represent the OWS protestors. Buddy Roemer, if he agrees to run under the third party banner, will be espousing the party’s liberal platform. Rove and Roemer are negotiating a deal whereby the Republican winner of the presidency, whoever that turns out to be, will reward Roemer with a cabinet position. Rove claims to have received assurances from Republican front runners that they will honor this arrangement.

Rove has promised Roemer significant financial support for Roemer’s campaign. He already has commitments from a number of Republican donors, former ‘Bush Pioneers,’ with deep pockets.

Rove hasn’t decided yet what to call the third party; ‘Occupy Wall Street’ party isn’t a grabber like the ‘Grand Old Party.’ What should Karl call the third party? What should the third party’s platform be?

2012 is being serialized on this blog. It starts here.

2012

Chapter 11: I'm not a fucking magician
[Go to beginning]

While he drove to his meeting with Buddy Roemer, Karl Rove talked into his digital recorder. He was trying out graphic adjectives with which to lace his fliers and ads lambasting Obama and his policies. He’d always been good at this, and he rattled off a series of zingers. “Profligate spending, record deficits, monstrous health-care costs, huge bailouts, distortions, demagoguery,” he said, as he turned off 16th Street NW onto Colorado Avenue. He drove past the Rock Creek Tennis Center and parked in the southwest section of the parking lot adjacent to the Carter Barron Amphitheater. His was the only car there.

Rove put on the heavy coat he’d brought and put the recorder into his left coat pocket. He checked his calls and email, and then put his smart phone and BlackBerry into his briefcase. He got out, walked around his rental car, and put his briefcase in the trunk. He leaned against the car and checked his watch. It was a few minutes after three o’clock. Roemer was late.

#

Buddy Roemer watched for Rove from the bleachers of the Rock Creek Park Tennis Center. He looked through binoculars as a car drove past the tennis center and parked in the far southwest section of the lot. The season was well past and the amphitheater parking lot was deserted. He saw Rove get out of the car and put his briefcase in the trunk. When he was sure no one was with Rove or following behind him, he walked down to his car. He opened the door and put the binoculars under the seat. He took a digital recorder and an audio jammer from his glove compartment. He put the jammer in the left pocket of his trench coat, and the recorder in the right pocket. Then drove over to where Rove was waiting.

#

The sky was overcast and a cold wind blew across the lot gathering leaves in a series of small whirlwinds. Rove hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands deep in his coat pockets. He watched as Roemer parked and walked over.

Rove stuck out his right hand and switched on his recorder with his left. Roemer stuck out his right hand and switched on his jammer with his left. The two men shook hands.

“Karl.”

“Buddy.”

“Let’s take a walk,” Roemer said.

“Fine,” Rove said, and they started down the trail towards the amphitheater. The trail was bordered by dense foliage that protected the men from the chill wind, but made the trail seem dark and the area somewhat threatening. Good place to off someone, thought Rove.

They sat down at the left rear of the amphitheater seats and each scanned their surroundings before Rove spoke up. “Buddy Roemer you picked a cold, lonely place to meet,” Rove said.



“It’s a beautiful spot in the fall, Karl, but this time of year, not so much.”

“Well it’s too damned cold out here to beat around the bush, so let me get right to the point. I can offer you significant financial support for a third party run, and should we see a Republican elected president, a cabinet position,” Rove said.

“Which?” Roemer asked.

“Health and Human Services, HUD, or Labor,” Rove said. “Depends on who gets the nod and who owes what to whom,” he added.

“How much?” Roemer said.

“How much what?” Rove said.

“How much financial support will I get and when will I get it?” Roemer said.

“Well, you know that Republicans with deep pockets contributed to Ralph Nader’s campaign in 2004, and they are willing to do that again for you,” Rove said.

Roemer opened his mouth to say something, but Rove held up his index finger and hurried on. “In addition, we will help you raise the required matching funds in at least 20 states so that you qualify for matching public funds.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Roemer said.

“Hell, Buddy, we have PACs, Super PACs, grassroots support groups...you name it. Raising the money’s no problem. Laundering it is the problem.”

“I’ll need one million up front to get off the ground,” Roemer said.

“One million?! What are you getting off the ground in, a Lear Jet?” Rove said, with a guffaw.

Roemer just looked at Rove.

“Okay, we can manage that. You’ll want to look as if you have some substance,” Rove said.

You crass son of a bitch, Roemer thought.

#

Rove went on to outline the next steps in moving the dishevelled mob that was Occupy Wall Street towards the formation of a third party. "Look, Buddy, we're not trying to get these bozos to come to a consensus or anything like that. For Christ sake, they can't agree on what they're protesting. We're just gonna insert a few people in the mix, get them some attention, and then have you announce your third party candidacy and have these people endorse it," Rove said.

"And what are the real Occupiers going to say about that?" Roemer said.

"Who gives a shit," Rove said. "First of all, they don't speak with a single voice, and second, by the time they realize what's happened, absentee ballots will be in the mail."

"So you have no intention of really trying to coalesce the Occupy Wall Street movement into a coherent political party? Roemer said.

"Hell no!" Rove said. "I'm not a fucking magician."

#

Both men were quiet as they made their way back to their cars, shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep in the pockets of their coats, as each mulled over what had just transpired.

They had agreed that in the future, face-to-face meetings would be kept to an absolute minimum. No use taking the chance that someone would spot them and wonder what was going on.

DC was a hotbed of rumors and it didn't take much to get one started. Rove had purchased a couple of anonymous prepaid cell phones, activating them from a phony address. He'd given one to Roemer, and told him how to buy another when the activation expired. Mostly, they'd coordinate their activities by phone.

When they reached their cars, Roemer shut off his jammer and switched on his recorder. Rove shut off his recorder and stuck out his right hand, "Nice doing business with you, Buddy," Rove said as the two men shook hands.

As they turned to their cars, Roemer said, "Hey Rove, one more time. Just so I have this straight. Quick run down on the plan."

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

2012

Chapter 9: Onion Rings
[Go to beginning]

Karl Rove had a little more than an hour before his flight. He checked his voice mail and found the call from Reince Priebus he’d received while he was at the Mass GOP Headquarters, Talking to that arrogant bitch, Kangas. He touched the callback button, put his briefcase on one of the chairs at the small table he’d selected, and sat at the other. There were some fairly good sit-down restaurants at Boston-Logan, but Rove didn’t have time for a full meal. He just wanted a place to sit, have a beer, and hold his conference call.

Priebus answered on the second ring. Without prelude, Rove said, “Reince, what about that conference call?”

“Karl, have you been keeping up on the news?” Priebus said, making the word ‘news’ sound like a dirty word.

“What about it?” Rove said.

“Some woman is claiming that she had a 13-year affair with Herman Cain. Her name is--”

“Yeah, yeah, I read all about it. So what? He’s already had four women accuse him of sexual harassment. Maybe this charge will help him. The sex was consensual,” Rove said, with a guffaw.

“Well, Cain’s not open to any conference call, Karl. Says he ‘reassessing’ his campaign. And Romney and Perry..., oh and Newt, want a face-to-face meeting,” Priebus said.

“Jesus! What a fucking circus,” Rove said. “Hang on.” Rove ordered a beer and onion rings from the pimply-faced waiter, then put the phone back to his ear. “Reince, I’ve got a flight in 45 minutes. I’m going to email you an agreement for these jokers to read. Make copies and get them to sign it, and then-- ”

Priebus cut off Rove, “Karl, these guys aren’t going to sign anything. You know that. They won’t even--”

“Hold on,” Rove said. “What have you told them?”

“I told them you had a proposal for them, and that it could improve their--”

Rove cut off Priebus. “I said practically guarantee,” Rove said.

 “Yeah, well...” Priebus said.

“Shit,” Rove said, and ended the call.

Rove shoved several onion rings in his mouth while he opened his Contacts file and found Mitt Romney’s cell phone number. He touched the screen and waited for the call to go through, checking his watch as he did.

“Karl, what’s up?” Mitt said, sounding relaxed.

“Hi, Mitt. Listen, I’m between planes so need to hurry this, if you don’t mind.” Rove went on to describe his scheme for getting Buddy Roemer to run as a third party candidate on an Occupy Wall Street ticket.

Romney became cautious in the conversation as Rove described the “package of incentives” he thought Roemer would need to carry out the campaign. At one point, Romney, the paranoid SOB, asked, “Are you recording this conversation, Karl?”

Rove answered, “Hell no, Mitt, that’s illegal,” but Rove was recording the conversation and knew that Romney would never take him to court if it came out, because that would just damage him in the public eye.

Romney told Rove that he ‘wouldn't oppose Rove's plan,’ and although Rove would’ve liked a more enthusiastic endorsement, he settled for that; given Romney’s suspicious personality, that was as good as it was going to get.

Rove waved a waiter over, paid his bill, and started walking to his boarding gate. He started to thumb his cell for Newt Gingrich’s number, but the phone, greasy from onion rings, slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. Rove swore, picked up the phone and checked to see if it still worked. It didn’t. Rove swore all the way to the boarding gate.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.