The speaker is hitting the links.
“This is a Tee Party I can live with,” he grins, as he puts a tee emblazoned with “Speaker Boehner” into the turf.
The GOP’s Dean Martin is on the road, making a ring-a-ding and ka-ching tour to rake in the moolah to ensure that Republicans keep the House in November and he keeps his job.
“That was a real humdinger this week when I told those folks in San Antonio that I’m living on borrowed time,” he tells the other members of his foursome, who have ponied up big bucks to play 18 with the speaker.
“The way I enjoy my Camels and cocktails, I guess I should have been happy to make it to 50, much less 65,” he chuckles. “But I didn’t expect such a big hubbub. Now that I’ve cheated death by Tea Party, I was taking a moment to ponder my mortality.”
He gives his playing partners a sly look.
“As you know, I’ve taken steps to guarantee my position and the party’s by teeing up that Benghazi committee, just like I teed up that Titleist. Talk about a sand trap.
“Every time I hear the word Benghazi, I think of Ben Gazzara, that great actor back in the ’60s with the nice tan. He could play me in the movie. Is he still around?
“And what kinda name is Trey Gowdy? Is he any relation to Curt Gowdy, that old sports announcer? He must be because he hasn’t been off TV since I made him chairman of the House Select Committee to Keep Republicans in Power and Harass Hillary Clinton. The guy won’t shut up about how we’re not going to raise money off the four dead Americans, even while we’re busy raising money off the four dead Americans.
“By the way, I’m no Hillary fan. But if Karl Rove thinks pushing the notion that Hillary’s concussion made her cuckoo is a good idea, then he’s the one with brain damage. How did he survive wasting all that donor money and not winning anything in the last election, anyhow?”
As Boehner savors a 210-yard shot, his voice drops into a confidential growl.
“I was reluctant to set up this committee because I know how our wackos can cause a backlash, but I was starting to worry that health care wasn’t gonna be enough to get us over the top in November,” he confides.
“And I don’t mind sticking it to Obama when he continues to be so insensitive about my skin color. His stupid joke at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner about me, ‘Orange is the new black.’ Well, he’s gonna be black and blue after we grill him and his team on what he was really doing in the White House that night during the attacks on the compound.
“If he was watching SportsCenter instead of sitting in the Command Center, that’s not gonna look good. If he was buttering up Bibi to help him with the Jewish vote, that’s not gonna look good. If he was catching some zzz’s during Benghazzzi, that’s bad. Of course, he already seems asleep at the switch most of the time. All he does is blame us because he can’t get anything done.
“Does he think we’re just gonna cuddle with him?”
After he and his group head down the fairway, Boehner takes a swig of merlot from his monogrammed silver “JAB” flask and climbs out of his cart.
Eyeing his approach, he muses: “I wouldn’t mind working with the president on one thing — this damn immigration mess. If we don’t do something to appeal to Hispanics, we are going to be nowheresville as a party in a decade. But there’s nothing I can say to make my guys do it.
“Maybe throwing a bone to the kooks on Benghazi will buy me some room to maneuver on immigration. Some of these goofballs will be so focused on Benghazi, we can just throw a bill on the floor and pass it before they even know what’s happening. We faked them out that way on the Doc Fix Medicare legislation. Har, har. The ayes have it.”
Hitting his second shot into a deep sand trap in front of the green, Boehner gives the same exaggerated grimace he did ridiculing his own members recently on immigration reform.
“Damn sand traps,” he mutters. “At least if all these alarmist reports on climate change turn out to be true, the sand traps will just be water hazards. If Marco Rubio’s wrong pooh-poohing climate change, he’s gonna be playing a lot of Marco Polo when Miami’s underwater.”
The speaker hits out of the trap and lands his ball about 20 feet from the cup.
“Marco is not even the best candidate from Florida,” Boehner says. “I’ve been talking to my man Jeb about getting in. Enough with all these rabid fruitloops. Jeb’s my kind of Republican — normal.”
Boehner putts and misses his 20-footer for par.
“Did you notice that broke way too much to the right?” he sighs. “That’s our problem.”
Maureen Dowd is a columnist for The New York Times.MORE IN Election Letters
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