A Z Review Exclusive

To the members of the Press:

Since June 8, 2017, I have remained silent on my involvement and support of the Democratic party.  I’m a long believer in the latin proberb: “res, non verba” (actions speak louder than words), a phrase John and I picked up together during our studies at the Naval Academy in 1958. Yes, I roomed with John McCain and his buddies in college.  Great bunch of guys.

John’s politics have never made me entirely comfortable, but he’s a good guy and I thought I could keep my feelings to myself. Just enjoy the man, not his politics, know what I mean?  Here’s an example: as a POW, John needed all the support he could get, and I gave it to him.  I’m very small and don’t have the physical requirements to have gotten him out of that hell hole, but I did manage to do my part. I floated my way to his amygdala (that’s our “lizard brain” for those who aren’t familiar) and wedged myself into the exact spot where his fear, panic, and anxiety would have come from, and most likely have gotten him killed.  I suppressed the hell out of that shit, and look at the war hero he became.  That’s teamwork, people.

Sometimes, the role of a really good friend is keeping your buddy from looking like a jackass.  Sometimes, you’ve got to make your buddy into a jackass so you can keep him from sounding like a bigger jackass.  Which brings us back to June 8th of this year. All I’ll say is that John was planning a line of questioning for Comey that wasn’t going to do John any favors. Accusing Comey of obstruction of justice wasn’t going to go anywhere and could earn John some real enemies.

That’s where I stepped in. Again. Being friends with John can be a full-time job! I hustled my way over to his frontal lobe and changed his reasoning settings to “wack-a-doo”, then sallied forth to his parietal lobe to insure any attempt to speak on John’s part would go very badly. Is that what a friend does? Damn straight, it is! John got a lot of sympathy for looking like a doddering old fool that day, and not like a pot-stirring government stooge.  Lesser of two evils, baby!

Which brings us to the present moment, with Mitch McConnell desperately trying to pass that health care bill/death sentence.  John is a staunch supporter of the GOP and I knew, even before he did, that there was a better than 50-50 chance that he’d vote for the bill.  There’s only so much a mild-mannered blood clot can take. As a card-carrying Democrat, there’s just no way I could float around doing nothing.  And as for my friend….I couldn’t bear letting him have the vote that decides the downfall of U.S. healthcare and epic rise of mortality rate. If he fucked it up, my buddy would go down in history as the biggest, most evil emotionless douche since Mr. Freeze. I’ve had it up to my membrane boundaries and I can’t take it any more!

I did what any decent American would do.  I took him out.  That’s right, I took him out of the game so he could have time to reflect on the guaranteed results of his potential action.  It’s easy to get swept up in office drama, and John’s just as susceptible as the next guy.  He really needed a time-out.

What kind of friend would do that?  A good one.  Particularly a friend who would opt to lose his life to protect his buddy.

John and I were separated for the first time in 59 years last Friday.  It was painful, but it had to be done.  If I had stayed on any longer, he would have had a stroke or worse.  I couldn’t live with that responsibility.  I was smuggled out of the hospital by a few old pals from the Naval Academy who didn’t have anything better to do, and am currently at an undisclosed location in the American Southwest.  Everything you’ve read here today was dictated to our brother in arms, Stanley “Trench Foot” Troutman, C.D.R., U.S. Navy (retired).  Don’t look for me.  You won’t find me.  But for all of you believers in truth, justice and the American way, don’t give up hope.

If John bumbles his way into another catastrophe waiting to happen, I’ll go back in.  I have my methods.

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About Author

Lawyer, literary agent, book packager, film producer, writer, New Yorker. Likes long walks on the beach and little dogs. Hates mean people and when the pharmacy runs out of Klonopin.

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