In Biden’s White House
Blame it on the US tax deadline, blame it on the full moon, blame it on too much food yesterday. Whatever. My dreams last night were full of witnessing events in the White House.
By themselves, the events seemed insignificant, at least to me. But as a sequence, I could see what kind of President Joe Biden is. At first, in whatever bookkeeping role I was inhabiting there, I took a look at some of the documentation of the American federal assets and their depreciation schedules. Biden wanted to write some of them off far quicker than the tax laws allow, so we had a discussion about that.
Then one of his assistants, a striking beauty with long beautiful hair, interrupted our discussion to lament some indiscretion of hers, the morning after at somewhat chaotic party the night before. I averted my eyes when Biden put his arms around her to comfort her. After a few minutes, she left and then Biden launched into a task he wanted me to undertake.
This task involved obtaining a copy of the latest Rolling Stone magazine which had an article about some gift to the States: evidently, the country that had given a millwheel to Niagara hadn’t weatherproofed it for the freezing cold climate there. So off I went on my errand.
On my way to a local newspaper shop, I caught up with another civil servant, a fellow who was feeling like he was about to be fired for something he’d done wrong. I commiserated with him for a moment…
And then I woke up.