Saturday, May 27, 2006

Φανταστική Ιστορία

Ένα πραγματικό διαμάντι που ανακάλυψα, ανήκει σε Καναδό Blogger
με το ψευδώνυμο Atlantic Gallery. Ιδού:




It was a late Wednesday afternoon and Colin Powell was having a slow day. Sitting in his office at the State Department, Powell stared out the window at a rusty, Indian summer day. This was the fall of 2003. A beep from his computer broke the silence and an e-mail awaited him. Powell slowly extracted himself from his deep gaze upon the Mall, swung his chair around to the desk and jostled the mouse. It was from Rich Armitage, his loyal deputy. He'd just delivered the latest white paper on Iraq. Powell thought, he'd better take a look.

Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage had been putting together a series of white papers examining the diplomatic fallout from the administration's Iraq policy. For the latest one, Powell had assigned Arimtage to troll moderate think tanks and foreign news sites for some independent views.

The body of the e-mail was scant. Just a, "Here's the news, Boss. - Rich," with the file attached.

The file name read:

ScrewedinIraqandHowtoCoverState'sAss-VolumeVII.RichArmitage.pdf

Powell clicked on the attachment.

The Secretary scrolled quickly past the opening summary and headed for the crux of the paper. Beginning on the third page, Rich had pasted a series of stories about Powell from the Guardian, the Times of London, Le Figaro, Le Monde, Frankfurter Allgemeine, Die Welt and Canada's Globe and Mail.

Powell read the Times of London columns with his usual furrow-browed care. A series of scathing critiques of US policy and painful attacks on his credibility. One extended piece by a prominent British Tory, and even not one of the gay ones, was a brick-by-brick dismantling of his speech at the UN in February of that year.

"Dammit! After everything you do! A life of blood and sweat for your country manifestly carried out so as to engineer an image of yourself as a revered soldier of impeccable integrity and just one stupid...ahhh!!," thought Powell.

The essay quoted senior British diplomats making light of Powell's credibility. "...a peculiarly American strain of self-serving logic...lawyer-ly...confidence man...Bill Clinton...," the word shooting off the page at him.

Ever the sensitive soul, the Times piece genuinely hurt Powell's feelings. He ignored the rest of the stories from the Continental papers. Even a man as worldly as Powell stops giving a crap past the English Channel.
But man, when you're a moderate Republican internationalist and you have managed to draw the ire of British Tories who aren't gay, one of your few remaining refuges is the Fox News crowd and that's not a very tasteful option if your name is Colin Powell.

Anguish lead to anger, again. This time he was really going to do it. He called the White House and requested a private meeting with the President. It was Wednesday the 13th.

The President's private secretary scheduled him in for 10 minutes on the 29th, a Friday, at ten to six. Just before the President is to head off to dinner with the CEO of IHOP.

On Friday the 29th, at exactly 17h50, a conscientiously prompt Colin Powell knocked on the Oval Office door.

The President opened the door, welcomed Powell with a jovial handshake and then guided him to a chair as the two were seated. Out of the inside pocket of his jacket came his resignation letter and Powell brandished the envelope and dropped it daringly onto the table between them. But the President seemed distracted. He mentioned to Powell that he'd been having a problem opening an e-mail attachment from the Pentagon. He asked Colin Powell for help. Powell's curiosity was aroused. He doesn't get to see much Pentagon stuff.

"I keep getting some stupid error message. You wanna take a look?" said the President.

"Well, Mr. President, I'm a Mac user but let's see what I can do," replied Powell.

Powell motioned towards the oval office laptop on a small table next to the President's desk as he walked to it.

"Over here?"

"Go right ahead, Colin. Who's Mac?"

"It's a computer. It's faster and more stable than using a Windows PC and it requires less IT support which helps keep our costs down . We're on a tight budget at State, Mr. President."

"Yeah. Good job, good job. You're a good man, Colin. That's why I need you so much. Keep up the good work."

Powell looked at the screen trying to spot the e-mail client. He finds it sitting on the panel bar next to another window titled: hohausfraus.com. In the name of discretion, the Secretary of State ignored it.

Powell clicked on the e-mail program. The mail was from Paul Wolfowitz.

It read:

"Have a good weekend, Mr. President. Hope this doesn't burden it too much. If you like, you can just read the summary at the beginning and have a look at the maps. Kindest and Most Humble Regards, Paul."

"Could you print it for me?" said the President.

"Ok, Sir, but first I have to open it."

The President was getting a little nervous.

"Well, can't you print it without opening it?"

"No, I can't Mr. President. That's not possible. Oh, here's your problem. The file was zipped. You have to unzip it. You must have WinZip on here somewhere."

"What?"

"I'll do it for you."

"It's a big file. It's 8000 kilobites. Probably has lots of images. The file had to be compressed to get it past the firewall."

"What?"

The file name read:

InvadingIranSeizingSaudiOilFieldsin2005-2008.Wolfowitz.zip

Powell unzipped the file, opened it and hit the print button. As the President moved over to the printer to eagerly retrieve his weekend reading, Powell conducted a quick scan of the document. He read a few titles off the table of contents and then scrolled down to a large image that took up the whole of the second page - a map of the Middle-East with a series of little US flags over Iran, Iraq and much of eastern Saudi Arabia.

Powell stood up slowly and walked away from the computer. The President looked at his watch and told Colin he's done for the day and that they'd better take this up some other time.

Powell stepped briskly towards the table to pick up his envelope. Stuffing it back into his pocket he bid the President a good evening. The President produced a quizzical look on his face but didn't bother to ask what it was that the Secretary had wanted to talk about as Colin Powell headed for the door. It was past six now and he'd better get going for his dinner engagement. Pancakes!

Powell exited the oval office and heaved his 872nd sigh of exasperation since taking office. He said to himself flatly, "Buddy, you'd better stick around for a while."

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