Janice for President – Part One By Wanderer Sometimes you need to do what you gotta do. Preface Here's a peek into the mind of a writer. This writer, anyway. When I started to write this story I already had a few stories on the Wanderer bookshelf, so I thought OK, what will I write next? Oh, I know, the younger sister/older brother theme is popular, so I'll try that. But how can I make it different? So I wrote "Who's In the Closet Now?" where the younger sister throws her older brother into a closet and locks him in because he annoyed her. Well, that went pretty good. Maybe I can write a second part along the same lines. So I wrote "Who's In the Closet Now - Part Two", where the brother's college roommate comes to visit, and little sister throws him in the closet also, along with big brother. Now the college roommate is so smitten with little sister he gives her his Porsche. Naturally college roommate is rich because he can afford to give away Porsches. I have never taken a writing course but someplace I read that some book writers outline their whole book before they begin to write. Not me. I started with the younger sister/older brother theme and, to my surprise, it just kept going from there. I wound up with four main characters (five, if you count the French maid, Alice - every story should have a French maid), and a bunch of minor characters wandering in and out of the stories. Since I started I've written twenty-nine parts to this story. So my advice to you is this: Even if you've never written anything in your life, try putting a few words on paper. You can never tell where it's going to take you. But every story has to have an ending. How do I end? One of my main characters (Janice) has already beaten up her older brother, managed the family company into one of the top 100 companies in the United States, is worth nearly a billion dollars in her own name, and regularly beats up on her husband - anger management issues, you know. So what does she do now? Sometimes I think it is harder to end a story than to begin one. How many times have we read an interesting story that finishes with "End of part one," and part two never shows up? Well, I guess I could have her run for President of the United States. Unrealistic? Hey, it's going to happen. OK, I'm going to do it. So how do I approach it? Well, you can't have a candidate for President of the United States going around and beating up on the other candidates, even if she is a very strong feminist. So this story ending may not have as much mayhem as you're used to. Oh, there's some, but I also think she's got to present some political views to the American public if she hopes to get elected. These might or might not be my political views. These are the views of a feminist political party, as I would imagine them to be, but with some exaggeration thrown in. They might be your political views, they might not, but the thing about living in a democracy, you can express political opinion without any penalties - hopefully. Incidentally, after writing twenty-nine parts to this story I don't expect that anybody who wants to read it is going to go back to Part One and get all the way through the whole thing, so I'm thinking maybe I'll put it together as a book. I'd be interested in going back and reading the whole thing from start to finish myself. I know I made some mistakes. If anyone is a publisher or knows of a publisher who would print this kind of material please post to the Readers and Writers Board. I would appreciate it. Thank you, and thank you for reading my stuff. Enjoy, and don't forget to vote for Janice! Wanderer Janice for President - Part One By Wanderer Sometimes you need to do what you gotta do. This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental. Earlier parts of this story are scattered all over the Wanderer bookshelf. They should be read in the following order: Who's In the Closet Now? (Parts 1, 2, and 3). We're Back In the Closet Again (Parts 1 and 2). The Engagement Party (Parts 1 to 5). The Engagement Party-Epilogue (Parts 1 and 2). The Engagement Party-Epilogue Two (Part 1). My Big Deal Social Wedding. Marriage Can Be Fun? (Parts 1 to 4). The Board of Directors Meets My Wife. The Executive Officers Meet My Wife. Executive Officers Don't Get No Respect. Security! Security! (Parts 1 and 2). Janice-An Anecdote. How to Collect Bad Debts Who Will Be the Chief Executive? (Parts 1 and 2). Janice for President - Part One. Copyright 2005 by Wanderer. When Janice declared to us that she was considering running for President of the United States there was stunned silence. We could hear the birds chirping in the trees, the buzz of a fly, we even thought we could hear the flapping of a butterfly's wings, it got so quiet. Then I guess I had to say something. "Why would any man vote for you, honey?" "Why would you vote for me, dear?" she asked me. "You'd like sex for the next four years, wouldn't you? I think I can put the idea across to women, if I'm elected their men get four great years of sex, if I'm not elected they'll just get the usual, same as they're getting now." There was silence while we mulled over her words. How many women would be so motivated to elect one of their own as president that they would be willing to offer their partners a higher level of sexual reward if they participated in electing a female as President of the United States? Probably not many women would be willing to make that sacrifice to their spouses just to see a woman get elected president. I felt that, as Janice's husband, I had a special responsibility to see to it that she not be naïve about the state of American politics, or sexual relationships, for that matter. "Jan, look, it's an old boys' club in the Congress. Even if you got elected how the hell do you think you'll get anything done? They'll laugh you out of office. They'll make you sorry you were ever born. They'll make you so sorry you'll resign! Besides which, I don't want to be the First Man of the United States, or the First Gent, or the First Wimp of the United States, or whatever they'll decide to call me." "Well, in that case I'll tell you what I would do," Jan said. "I would just call each Senator into the Oval Office. When the President of the United States calls a Senator or a member of the House of Representatives to a meeting in the Oval Office nobody dare refuse. Can you imagine if the President has a press meeting and says 'I invited Senator Whatshisname to meet with me in the Oval Office but Senator Whatshisname refused to meet with the President of the United States.' How is Senator Whatshisname going to justify that without looking like the supreme male chauvinist of the world? Do you think the old fart would ever get another woman's vote when he runs for re-election? He can kiss all his privileges and perks goodbye." "Yeah, so he comes to the Oval Office, so what? He'll tell you to fuck off, lady, you're not MY president!" I responded. Jan says, "Well, guess what? I'm going to make sure the tape recorder in the Oval Office is in good working order. Wait until I give the press the piece where Senator Whatshisname is telling the President of the United States 'Fuck off, lady, you're not MY president!' The press would just love to take that and run with it. Senator Whatshisname would be in total disgrace. He would resign the next day, I guarantee it!" "Yes," I said, "but after you put the first Senator on the spot they'll never fall into that trap again. What are you going to do with the second Senator?" "Well, I can be very persuasive," Jan answered. "Remember my meetings with members of the Board of Directors of the Witherington company?" A collective gasp escaped from our lips. Maddy and Alice and myself, and even Jim who was only half conscious after his younger sister had just beaten him up, gasped at Jan's audacity. "How do you beat up a Senator like you beat up the members of the Board of Directors?" Maddy asked. "Easy," Jan said. "And what Senator is going to leave the Oval Office with two black eyes and say, 'The President of the United States just beat me up. Oh, and by the way, I got these two black eyes from a woman.' These guys have egos like you wouldn't believe. The most powerful men in the United States are going to say, 'A woman just beat the shit out of me!' Not very likely!" So Janice tested the political waters. Being one of the very few females who was president of a Fortune 100 company, and a very effective speaker at that, her presence at conventions and women's service club luncheons was always in demand. So when speaking to women's groups about opportunities or careers she started to mention casually that "Gee, some government policies don't really further the women's agenda." Or that "Gee, not everybody in government is interested in seeing women succeed." Or "Gee, if we had a woman president sometime maybe she would better understand the obstacles women face today, both in the business world and as a homemaker." At almost every luncheon or convention where Janice was a speaker someone in the audience would ask what was the key to her success. Without hesitation she would answer: "Our workers. At my company we treat them with respect. We provide excellent working conditions, friendly courteous supervisors, vacations, wonderful retirement plans which are fully funded, maternity leaves for both men and women, education scholarships for our workers' children, medical drug coverage and excellent medical benefits, not only for our workers but also for their spouses and kids. So when we take good care of our people they take good care of us. We're proud of our workers and they're proud of their management. There isn't a thing they wouldn't do for us. And that shows in our product and our profits, which we share with them, and our move into being one of the top one hundred companies in the country." Then Janice would pause and appear to be in deep thought. "Gee, wouldn't it be nice if we had a woman in the White House who gave some consideration to reliable pensions, to providing health insurance for families who don't have the financial means, or at least starting it with their children and seeing how it goes?" And more often than not some woman in the audience would shout out a question: "Why don't YOU run for president?" Or: "Have YOU thought about running for president?" Janice would come back with "Would you vote for me?" "Yes!" was the shouted response from the assembled guests. "Better yet," Janice would add, "Could you get your husbands to vote for me?" "Yes! Yes!" the women all responded, in unison. Even some of the men present would join in, swayed by Janice's charm and logical arguments. And then the chanting would start. "Jan-ice! Jan-ice! Jan-ice!" "Janice would blush prettily and say, "OK, ladies, if I have your backing maybe I'll think about it." Pretty soon the tabloids and the gossip magazines and then the newspapers picked up on this weird woman who might make a run at the presidency. It was always good for a laugh and it was good gossip column stuff. And soon paparazzi were stalking her, eager to make a few bucks by selling her picture, and even including me in the photos, with captions like "Is This to Be the First First Man?" Or "The Official First Wimp of the United States?" Well, I ignored it. When your wife is worth nearly a billion dollars on her own you can learn to put up with a lot of crap. But Janice Witherington became an object of discussion and speculation. Newspaper men and women were shouting questions at her when she was seen on the street. Soon she was asked to be a guest on the morning talk shows, and then the evening talk shows. The universal question was: "Will she or won't she?" But Janice played it coy. "Gee, I don't know" would be her stock answer. "I would want to be the people's president. Maybe I could get women to vote for me because they understand some of the women's issues. Equal pay, child care, health insurance for children, and so on. But do you think men understand the implications of disappearing pensions, rapidly increasing costs of health care, loss of jobs and loss of work opportunity? I mean, I would think these issues are as important to men as they are to women, wouldn't you?" So there came about a ground swell. Women in small towns, big towns, cities, started to organize into political discussion groups. They didn't feel the major political parties really were aware of their needs or even really cared much about their specific needs, so talk turned to organizing their own political party. How about a women's party-the Women's Independent Political Party? The acronym was WIPP, pronounced like whip. Well, when the women caught on to the innuendo they loved it. Women would say to each other, "Have you joined the WIP party yet?" For women it became the thing to do. "Have you joined the WIP party yet?" became "Are you a Wipper?" It became the suburban thing to do, become a Wipper. The movement spread throughout the country. It gave women a sense of control, a sense of power. They had a purpose that was for women only, elect a woman as President of the United States of America. A political cartoonist for a newspaper in the Midwest decides he's got an idea how to ridicule the women's movement for trying to put up a candidate for president. Since the symbol for the Democratic Party is a donkey and for the Republican Party is an elephant this guy decided the Women's Independent Political Party needed a symbol. So what else for a political party whose acronym is WIPP? He draws an almost naked gorgeous woman wearing practically nothing but black leather boots, a tiny thong about her waistline, a whip in her right hand, and he draws her quite muscular to symbolize the strength of women united in a political movement. The inference was, if you elect a woman as President of the United States you're going to put in office a dominatrix who is going to whip the country into shape. He figured his cartoon would bring a lot of laughs from the newspaper's readers, and it did - from the men. A wife would say to her husband, "What are you laughing at, honey?" And Mr. Husband would say, "Look at this stupid woman holding a whip, like she's going to solve all the world's problems with a whip! Why, she even has muscles! What a laugh!" "You don't think women can solve the world's problems?" asks Mrs. Wife, slightly irritated at her chauvinist husband. "You guys have certainly made a mess of it on your own. Maybe it's time for you guys to step aside and let a woman handle it." "Now, honey," Mr. Husband would say, "you know women aren't up to that kind of work. Women can manage a kitchen, or even the kids sometimes, but manage a country? C'mon, get real, that's man's work!" "Oh, really?" says Mrs. Wife. "We'll just see about that." And you could chalk up one more vote for the Women's Independent Political Party. Well, this cartoonist felt he had stumbled onto a good thing. He kept drawing the woman with a whip to symbolize his political comments. He drew her pouting, "Oh, why won't you vote for li'l ol' me?" He drew her seductive, looking over one shoulder and winking, "C'mon and vote for me, big boy." And he drew her threatening, whip in hand, biceps bulging, saying to her husband or boy friend, "You said you're voting for WHO, honey?" Other newspaper and magazine political cartoonists quickly picked up on the WIP party symbol. Not wanting to be left behind, they vied with each other to see who could create the most attractive, beautiful symbol for the WIP party. One cartoonist did a two panel cartoon. The first panel was labeled "The Past," and showed a petite woman sitting on a man's lap, the man's right hand hanging at his side, a ping pong paddle being loosely held by his fingers. She seemed to be pleading with him. The second panel, titled "The Future," showed the reverse, the WIP party Amazon seated on a chair, her right hand hanging at her side, the handle of her whip being loosely held between her fingers, the man from the first panel now sitting on the Amazon's lap, a fearful look portrayed on his face. Of course the political cartoons were meant to embarrass Janice and her Women's Independent Political Party, but women weren't really appreciative of being the butt of these derisive cartoons. The bottom line was that every time one of these cartoons appeared that ridiculed the idea of a woman ever becoming President of the United States more women signed up as volunteers and field workers for the WIP party. Women would laugh at the role reversal idea of a man sitting on a woman's lap. "Let's try this honey," she would suggest. Those who tried it felt a surge of power, of control in their relationships. They liked it. I don't know if I should say this, since I shouldn't be telling personal things about a possible woman candidate for president of the United States, but in my own case with Janice, I found that, when she would put me on her lap, I could find the sweet spot on her neck, located someplace between her lower jaw and her shoulder. I knew I had found it when she would start to giggle. I worked on it. A little kiss, a tongue lick, a little nibble, pretty soon she was bounding up the stairs to our bedroom, me in her arms. Or she would get so excited she'd throw me over one shoulder and take the stairs two at a time. That might not be very presidential but it sure was fun. Evidently women have more than one "G" spot. Other women found the same thing. Men were very grateful for these unusual sexual responses from their usually matter-of-fact wives, and they began to think maybe giving women a little power wasn't such a bad thing after all. Women came to realize that they had been allowing a ridiculous situation to continue unabated. Male chauvinists had been permitted to control the country forever. In her campaign Janice pointed out that women made up the majority of the voting age population in the United States. Why play second fiddle to a bunch of entrenched pompous asses whose main motivation was propagation of their privileged status, not the welfare of their constituents. Men had their doubts. But women threatened to refrain from connubial bliss for the next four years should the WIP party candidate lose. It was Lysistrata all over again. Conversations all over the country went something like this: Wife: "Oh, George, there's this woman who wants to run for President of the United States." Husband: "Who the hell wants some fat-ass bitch to be running the country?" Wife: "She doesn't look so fat, honey. She's quite pretty." Husband: "Let me see that picture." After inspecting the picture of Janice in the paper, George says: "Yeah, well, I wouldn't kick her ass out of bed, but I still don't want some stupid cunt running the country." Wife: "But George, it says here she runs a big international company, one of the Fortune 100 companies, and it's very successful." Husband: "Bah! A woman can't run the damn country! She'd run it into the ground!" Wife: "Well, in the past some men presidents haven't done so good, either." Husband: "Yeah, but they were men. Men are supposed to run the country, not women!" Wife: "Well, maybe we should give a woman a chance. She might not do any worse than some of the men, and maybe she would bring a different perspective to national affairs." Husband: "Fuck! It ain't never gonna happen, not as long as I gotta vote!" Wife: "We'll see. I have a vote too, you know." Husband: "Shit! You'll vote like I tell you to!" Wife: "It's a secret ballot, George." Husband: "That cunt gets elected, all you women will get swelled heads, you'll think you run the country! It ain't gonna happen! We men won't allow it!" Wife: "Tell you what, honey. If Janice Witherington gets elected as President of the United States I'll give you four years of sex during her term as president that you'll never forget." Husband: "Blackmailer!" he grumbled. The men who came right out and told their wives or girl friends they could never vote for a woman for president, regardless of who she was, found out that was the wrong thing to say. Not that the women involved necessarily wanted one of their own to be president, but they resented the discriminatory male chauvinist attitude that all of a sudden their husbands or boyfriends were displaying, something they had not been aware of up to this point in their relationships. So why shouldn't a woman be president? The husbands who told their wives that women should not get into politics and should stay in the kitchen found out that it was uncomfortable sleeping on the living room sofa. Even if they didn't want a woman to be the next president of the United States they figured, "What the hell, I'll vote for a woman, it's only one vote, and then I can honestly tell my wife, with a clear conscience, 'Why of course, honey, I made you a promise. I voted the WIP party ticket. I'm sorry their woman candidate lost. Now, let's go to bed. You owe me!'" As the WIP party got organized and started to draw financial support it began to pay for billboard advertising showing the lady with the whip saying, "Vote for me, handsome." And as it became more and more apparent that my wife Janice was the leading candidate her face began to be the face on the Amazon's body. Of course, I must admit that some of those billboard ads showing Janice's face were paid for by us, the Witherington family, but we didn't go around announcing it. We just listed it under campaign expenses. Some of the giant video screens around Times Square in New York City started flashing videos of a muscular Amazon wielding a whip quite effectively while performing a body building routine. The rumor was that a major political party had sponsored this video to show how ridiculous it was to elect a woman as president. They hired a well known female body builder as a stand-in for Janice. They never showed the body builders face, but the obvious inference was that it was Janice. Of course, only a few of us knew that Janice's body would make this female body builder's body look like a beginner. Men would stop, look, giggle, move on, then stop again and stare. Wow, that was some body they were looking at. And the muscle flexing routine wasn't bad, either. There would be a smattering of applause. Then some cheers. More applause. Then shouts of "Go, girl, go!" from the viewers. It seemed that the video meant to deprecate a woman running for president was backfiring quite badly. The sponsoring political party quickly removed their sponsorship, but the WIP party saw an opportunity and quickly picked up sponsorship and the video became one of New York City's major tourist attractions. Given all this attention to the idea of a woman running for president the WIP party saw an opportunity to become a political force for good in the United States. And their natural choice for candidate was my wife, Janice Witherington. Next: The convention, the nomination, the election.