Washington 2017: The U.S. Political RP: IC [CLOSED]

[Tumblrena]

Sam McGareth
@Five-Oh

---

Chicago terrorist not progressive, just evil. Problem is not enough security against the bad people. Need smarter policing, control for guns and bomb materials, good monitoring.

Sam McGareth
@Five-Oh

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VERY FAKE NEWS that most Muslims are radical. Very peaceful people. Not all Christians KKK either! Faithful Jews, Christians, Muslims are peaceful.

Sam McGareth
@Five-Oh

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Good people will worry if Sinclair locks them out! America is for all. Sinclair wants to target allies! Worked with tremendous Muslims in Middle East, helped the troops, top notch.

Sam McGareth
@Five-Oh

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Everyone knows Sinclair can't surf. No balance! Dopey.

[Sanabel]

Sinclair Twitter

Augustus Sinclair
@AmericanSheriff

---

"#OpenBordersMcGareth thinks America is for 'all.' America is a country of people and laws, and it's time we start putting our people first."

[The Galactic Triumvirate]

Alicia Florrick @FlorrickAG My thoughts are with the victims of the horrific attack in Manchester. Federal Agents are on the scene and a full investigation is underway. #Manchesterstaystrong RETWEETSFAVORITE 5k9k

[Tumblrena]

Sam McGareth
@Five-Oh

---

People first means all people, Muslims too. People first can't mean Muslims last! Law says freedom of religion, Angry Augie should follow it!

[Greater Arab State]

Sinclair Twitter

Augustus Sinclair
@AmericanSheriff

---

"#OpenBordersMcGareth thinks America is for 'all.' America is a country of people and laws, and it's time we start putting our people first."

Liked and retweeted by Alois Kramer.

[Latvijas Otra Republika]

Lenny Lotto @Lennyslottomachine If you can't be American, if you can't learn the language, if you can't accept our ideals, then get out and stay out. #EnoughIsEnough RETWEETSFAVORITE

[Greater Arab State]

Alois Kramer
@GoodOle'American

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"I fully support the statement by @AmericanSherriff. The grand majority of these New England RINO's are out of touch with we the people. Those good, hardworking muslims who have and are integrating have nothing to fear from the reasonable action taken by the good Governor. To the SJW's who i am sure will be seeing red whilst reading this tweet after conning minorities into thinking that they are the only ones who care about them get out of your safe spaces and get a job. #MakeAmericaAmericanAgain"

[Prolieum]

Harris County, Texas

The blonde sighed in contentment, languidly stretching out her gracile frame over the soft French Heritage couch. Her eyes tracked the movement of the well-built, bronze-skinned man, pulling his shirt back on as he turned just long enough to give her a pearly-white smile, before slipping out the door of the mansion, the stylized wooden portal making a soft click as it shut behind him.

Johnathon had called her last night, around nine o'clock or so, sounding suitably apologetic, telling her about how some bill or other would be keeping him working late at the high-rise downtown, that he was so sorry, but he was not going to make it home, that it was something he had to do.

His wife was more aware than Johnathon thought of what, or more accurately, who he was doing on that late night. With that in mind, she had not had any problem inviting Alejandro over for a little bit of nocturnal exercise.

She gave him a few minutes to leave the property before she stretched out with long arms to pull a laptop sitting on a nearby lampstamp onto her stomach, flipping it open. Negotiating through a few pages, she clicked the home security system back online, and took the cameras off of their loop, putting the expansive house and property just outside the Houston metropolis back into order.


It felt nice where she was, her lanky, thin body draped over the couch, feeling plenty limber, but she stood up without too much internal complaint, rolling to her feet, and strolling over a few steps in her thin white nightie to pull back the curtains and take a look outside. It was still a few hours until sunrise on the mid-February day, but as she slid back the windowpane, a warm breeze greeted her. Winter didn't really come here, and she was glad for it. The farm she was raised on was probably knee-deep in snow about now, with a wind that would tear your cheeks raw in place of the soothing breeze. She had felt for so long like she was never going to get out of that place, for years. Some kids ran away from home-those were the stupid ones. There wasn't anywhere to go, anyone that would help you was more likely to try to rape you when you looked like she did. Hundreds of miles from any decent civilization, it was all pointless. So she'd endured. Taken the long way out. Every worthless class in that tiny Dillon school, she'd aced. Every assignment perfect. None of it was anything to her. She'd done her time, taken in the full-scholarship letter from Baylor as a path to salvation, and escaped to a place where she could actually do something with her genius. She never once looked back.  

In took her less than twenty-five minutes to shower, change, and apply her makeup with a practiced ease and speed that gave little hint to its excellent quality. Latte in hand, she stepped down the curving staircase into the house's expansive garage, setting the no-fat drink into the cupholder, while a press of a button had the engine of the sleek European car lightly humming. She settled into the leather seat and clicked the door opener, the scattered splashes of light from artificial bulbs on the property and reflections of the moon's soft gleam slightly illuminating the silver exterior. With the lightest press of a bare foot, the car rolled forward onto the road, curving slightly as she made her way down the actual public streets. 
 
The drive downtown was a smooth one, both from the easily-rolling wheels and the jazz drifting in from the radio waves. The early hour let her out of some, though not all, of the traffic on the way down through her early start, with the sun not yet peeking over the horizon as she glided to a stop in front of the hospital that bore her name. Slipping on her shoes, taking up her handbag, she ducked out from under the gull-winged doors, letting her valet deal with bringing the vehicle to her own personal parking space.

The automatic doors slid open with just the slightest pneumatic hiss, revealing the pleasant decor of the hospital's reception area. Clean and well-kept, the broad, open floor was punctuated by small modern art sculptures, man-sized forms, twisting shapes, odd reflections, and things even odder. The white hue of the room was not out of place for a hospital, but the slight change in bluish shade was one made to give more of a feel of futurism, of the cutting edge, over a sterile blandness, the slight curves over hard edges contributing to the aesthetic.
 
Light slowly began to spill into the room, the reception area marked when one glanced up by the towering ceiling above, four floors of open room in front, massive panes of glass marking the front face of the building, letting in the sun. As the orb grew brighter over the day, the windows would tint themselves, just slightly, keeping the room awash in just enough of a glisten.

That light, paired with the artificial, slightly blued spill of the LEDs placed above the hanging shapes above, and at ankle height around the perimeter, shone her way to the front desk, not against a wall, but two curves, parenthesis in opposite directions, forming a twice-split circle in the middle of the area, a more involved and organic design. Only two receptionists were there at the moment, and one gave a cheery little wave to Susan as she walked on by. She ignored it.  

She turned left upon reaching the hallway at the open area'send, pressing a carefully-manicured nail onto the call button. The tiny light came on, and she waited, as the elevator slipped down floor-by-floor, finally opening a few moments later. Stepping inside, she pressed two further buttons, and the doors slid closed. When they opened again, she was at the fifth level, right where she needed to be to prepare herself for work. Exiting the metal and glass box, a turn brought her into another room and a few minutes later, she was adorned in the white lab coat that was her working wear, the tools of her trade at hand, her hair pinned beneath a blue scrub cap. Ready to work.  
 
Today was going to be a very busy day, four patients coming in to go under the knife. First off this morning was a geriatric she had to deal with, someone with too much capital lying around and too much pain in his back to do anything much more than lie around. He was finally going in for a spinal fusion to deal with that, and had gotten himself on her list. Nothing special there, but the appointment that evening, now that was something that had a little bit more to it. She was scheduled to perform a reparative knee surgery, with the patient being a particularly talented defensive end for a certain Houston NFL squad. The team had decided that they needed to go out-of-house to get the star up on his feet again, and ready to get back to the field without a hitch by the time the next season started. Houston was a city of doctors, but for whatever forward-thinking trainer had made the call, their big man be taking his place beneath her scalpel.  
 
It didn't surprise her at all. She was the best, after all.  
 
It wasn't all paying customers, she still did pro bono work every once in a while, of course. Some sob story or other, charity case who needed a surgery but couldn't pay, waste some of her valuable time for some goody-feely points, give a perfect smile and pat a kid or pauper on the back once it all was over, get a picture in the paper, the tired shtick. There weren't any of those cases today, though, and there probably wouldn't be some for the next few days either, or the days after that. They simply were not her priority. She had a skill that was very much in demand, high demand, and in a market with limited supply, extremely limited if you wanted the kind of quality she offered. That economic graph raised the price, and her concern was with those people who were willing to pay it to her. Why should things be anything different? 
 
Some people had told her that she had a gift to the world. Susan had just never bought the idea that she had to give it away.  
 
As she seated herself in her office, pulled open the drawer of a file cabinet, the whole matter, the broader idea of it all, had begun to make her think. It was a mental prick that made its first little poke watching her brother that summer, that had then been sharpened at the inauguration, that old man Stephens's comments whetting it, making it poke around her thoughts all the more keenly. She was at the very top of her field, but maybe, perhaps, there was somewhere to go beyond it.  
 
Someone of her intelligence could easily multitask in thinking on that potential future and moving forward with the coming surgery, but decided to put her focus on vertebrae at the moment, looking over the x-rays and documents from the man's file folder without any concern. There was plenty of time laid out before her. The last time she had made her attempt at a change, at escape, her impatience and desire was all-consuming, years spent yearning for escape. Now, here, fully embracing her potential in determining future endeavors the only time that "if" was the question was in whether she would choose to travel a certain path, for if she did, the only thing left unknown was when her success in her choice would be complete.

[Velahor]

On a gravel road in the badlands outside of Jordan, MT...

"Goddamn wasteland..." thought the Governor as his old pickup bounced around on the sandy gravel. The flat, smooth landscape didn't seem to lend itself to such rough roads, but a chinook wind had swept the plains of the mostly unpopulated county, its warm breath melting snow and unveiling all of the potholes that had formed in the cold winter months.

He hated these drives. As governor he would never admit it, but Doc hated the landscape any farther east than his hometown of Lewistown. Here was not the mountainous land that outsiders thought of Montana as, but instead a deserted plain extending all the way from there through North Dakota. It was over eight hours from the Governor's Mansion in Helena out to Garfield County. Doc used to do this drive in a day, but with age this became a two-day trip for him, spending the night about halfway back at his ranch.

Nonetheless, some of the most important Republican voices in the state were out in this no-man's land, and none more so than state Senate majority leader Walter Cartwright. Cartwright was an old-school straight-shooter, a conservative's conservative, a man who had homeschooled all of his children and his grandchildren out of mistrust for the federal government, eventually becoming head of the state homeschool association, lived completely off the grid of local utilities, and had made his living selling rodeo roughstock and pastoring a travelling "cowboy church" before running for the state senate some 30 years ago. Stephens liked dealing with Cartwright, though it was inconvenient because Cartwright insisted on complete privacy in all meetings with the governor and preferred to handle some of the more private negotiations at home in Jordan rather than in Helena. Moreover, Stephens respected Cartwright. Some of the younger state senators and representatives acted intimidated by Stephens's confident presence. Doc always knew what he wanted, and knew how to twist a conversation to get it. But Cartwright wouldn't let his arm be twisted. He demanded that Doc be straightforward, honest, and lay all his cards on the table at once. And he wasn't afraid to call out Doc when he was bullsh*tting him. It was harder to operate this way, but Stephens respected it.

Lost in thought as he drove down the straight and narrow gravel road, Stephens hit a pothole which sent his coffee flying out of its cupholder and onto the floor. He slammed the brakes, put it in park, and wiped up the floor and threw the cup out onto the gravel road. No one will notice, it will blow away... thought Stephens, looking both ways on the road and noticing that nobody was driving either toward him or away from him for miles. He closed the door of his pickup and turned up the radio station out of Havre as an advertisement ended and Lonesome, On'ry, and Mean by Waylon Jennings started. Doc turned the radio up and tapped the beat along on the steering wheel as he made his way to Cartwright's home.

---

One Hour Later, in the home of State Senator Cartwright, after small talk leading to the election.
"So...you got my email, right? I'm assuming you have internet out here?" asked Stephens.

"Yeah, satellite internet. Slower than what they have in town I 'spose." replied Cartwright.

"And?"

"You make a better governor than a dictator Doc. I dare you to read that letter out loud in city hall in Jordan. They'd rip you apart. Drugs in our towns? Transvestites in our bathrooms? Have all those years with all those liberal Californians out in Helena and Missoula gotten to your head?

"I think they prefer transgender now..."

"Well...if my son was dressing up like a lady, I'd call him crazy, so I think I'll call them what I want."

Stephens silently decided not to push the issue. "Uh...well you know that one is unenforceable. And it will get overturned in the state supreme court. I read the bill, and it's a statement piece. We don't need statements these days, we need laws that will stand up to scrutiny."

"Fair enough, it's not a priority anyway. I'm not gonna budge on the GOP's stance on it though."

"Alright. The marijuana thing though. I know you hate the drug. I saw your filibuster last year. I ain't too fond of it either to be honest. But I've pushed this issue for several reasons, most of all that we gotta be ahead of the curve. If the feds legalize it, our state's opportunity to earn tax dollars off of it diminishes. If we do it now, we get what they're calling "cannabis tourists", their money is spent in Montana, people move here, in the end, the state profits and the people profit."

"So...you wanna poison our kids for money?"

"Adults bud, not kids. Do adults not have control over their own bodies?"

"If they ain't smokin' dope they do."

Again, Stephens metaphorically bites his tongue. He really wanted to unleash a five-minute-long speech on individual liberty on this pitiful uneducated rodeo cowboy, but he held back. "What can I do to get you to support it?"

"Take out the part where you legalize a dangerous drug, and repeal your authoritarian decree."

Stephens was fuming on the inside. The last thing he would want to be called was authoritarian. He'd taken a lot of name calling, but that was the one thing that he could not stand. "Abortion ban."

"What?"

"I'll support an abortion ban, if I get your vote on the weed thing."

"We have the pain-capable ban. You told me you supported it already."

"I'll take it back. I'm willing to take a flip-flop if you don't support legalization. I'll say it's too extreme, or poorly worded, or say that it violates Roe v. Wade. In fact, I'm willing to torpedo a bunch of Republican legislation. Bring out the big veto branding iron again, get on the capitol steps, make a scene out of it. And I'll switch parties and do it as a Republican. Make the party look like it's in statewide turmoil. You just watch."

"I won't take your manipulative, backdoor sh*t! You shouldn't be governor. Not with the attitude that you control all of this."

"Then don't. Play it fair. A bill for a bill. I will push anything you want, just let me know what you want."

"Maybe I have something..."

"I'm listening..."

"You'll hate it..."

"And you hate marijuana legalization. Let's make a deal."

"Okay...I want a schools bill. School choice. But not just school choice. Charter schools are still illegal here, so make them legal. I know you like that part. But here's the kicker. I want school vouchers, not just for private schools, but for homeschooling. I want the state to fund anyone who wants to homeschool their kids. Even if the homeschooling has religious basis.

Stephens knew this was a deal he could take, but he wanted to play hard to get. "I have a couple problems there. Separation of church and state's a big one. Plus the state is broke. I'm not gonna pay parents to not educate their kids."

"Okay, that one hurts. I was head of the state homeschool association. Nobody just 'doesn't educate their kids'"

"There's literally a thing called unschooling these days."

"So we add some curriculum requirements...if parents don't meet standardized testing norms the vouchers are revoked."

"Warmer...."

"Do you want a deal or not? I shouldn't even be toying with the idea of repealing drug laws."

"I'm a big believer in our education system, even if it has some indoctrination and all that. I'll tell you what...add a high school econ class and a whole year of American government class to the state's requirements and you have a deal."

"Deal."

"Hold up. It's another burden for taxpayers. I'm going to need you to hold steady on the budget. Don't let moderates sway it, we have to cut spending. Other than that, deal," says Stephens, extending his hand for a handshake. As Cartwright shakes his hand, Stephens begins to speak. "Now, if you double cross me on this and vote against the legalization bill...you know the consequences. As much as I want to be everybody's friend and promote unity, if you hurt this bill's chances I will singlehandedly use the opportunity to cause an uproar and have you removed from leadership. Yes, this is a threat. I know you don't like it, but at least I'm being honest with you. We made a fair deal, I sign off on your bill when it passes and whip votes for you, you vote yes for my bill and whip votes for me. Tell the other Republicans that you had a change of heart so we can flip the budget. They look up to you."

"I don't 'preciate you threatening me. But I'll do what you say for this bill...this means a lot. A deal is a deal, and you have no reason to doubt it. One question...why are you so fired up about legalizing marijuana? It's no difference for you, I don't think you smoke it and you ain't making any money. You used an executive order for it, and you never do that. I get the whole libertarian thing I guess, but I don't know...it just feels like you're wasting a lot of time on it."

"I made a hasty choice based on emotion. For once in my life, I thought it would be okay to set aside my trust in the process and take matters into my own hands. I saw meth addicts and wanted state funds to go to getting that off the streets instead. I saw college kids with bright futures locked up because of a plant. I was so angry that a country based in liberty was still throwing people in jail for smoking a plant. So I wrote an executive order. It was a stupid decision, to circumvent the legislature like that, and the one time in my life I put emotion over reason in my job."

"Not the only time...there was the asbestos thing too."

"Thought you wouldn't mention that. It was the '80's, you were a freshman state senator. Surprised you remember that. But yeah, I put aside reason, did something unilaterally, and probably pissed a lot of people off. My mistake. But I want this bill to pass so I don't look like a fool. That's not the legacy I want to leave behind."

"Well...I think it will make you look more foolish to do this, but that's none of my business. A deal's a deal. Anything else?" replies Cartwright, taking a deep breath.

"Are you on board for MACRA and the other stuff in the email?"

"Not sure on MACRA...I don't like school consolidation, but it's a non-issue if my bill passes. The others...I'll have to take a closer look at later in the session. The election reform idea looks promising."

"It is, not sure how much I wanna stress over that one though."

The men's conversation devolved back into small talk, and Stephens was on his way. He had to meet with other lawmakers around the state, and get back to Helena for the beginning of the legislative session.

[Velahor]

Dr. Doug Stephens @Doc4Montana I was out of cell reception for most of the day, only to hear about Manchester. My prayers go out to the families of the victims. #Manchesterstaystrong RETWEETSFAVORITE 70022,000

[Tallahassee News Station]

The club was bouncer free on the outside and Jared nodded at one just inside after they went in. It was a simple long bar with reddish lights and millenials all around the room at the bar, the tables, or way over at karaoke in the back. A slight haze of smoke hung around.

Nicole smiled at Jared. "So...let's head to the bar. Is that alright with you?"

"Oh indeed but it is not a place for the faint of heart." Jared was acting the showman and gesturing widely with his free arm as he led her up to the bar with the other.

"A dizzying array of dizzying concoctions awaits, but you must choose wisely, for only the stout hearted and quick witted survive." He smiled toothily as they made it up.

[Imperial Esplanade]

Gov. Thomas J. Fairley
@LegitThomasFairley

---

The news out of New Hampshire has been devastating and heartbreaking. The tragic loss of life is a genuine loss for all Americans, and the attack was a blatant one that was carried out by a cowardly few - aimed straight at our collective constitutional rights. We are with you, New Hampshire, and we grieve with you. Stay strong.

[Tumblrena]

Orono, Maine
8 Crosby Street
Prazek Home
1824
Tuesday
14 February
2017

Katherine takes a cocktail and looks around then sips waiting for a response.

[Tumblrena]

Ellen Walton
@AmericanProgress

---

My deepest sympathies rest with those who lost their loved ones on that awful night in this trying time.

---

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

The passage of his bill earlier that day had put Amaras in an excellent mood, the rotund man swaying a bit as he walked, and whistling a nameless tune, an extra spring in his step and he perambulated through the office building, briefcase in a meaty hand. The extra energy he felt from his first clear legislative success was almost enough to motivate him to take the stairs to his destination. Almost.

He arrived where he planned to, an office do with "Alois Kramer" written on a plaque just outside it. He did not have any reservations or premade plans, but had something he thought the Alabaman might have an interest in, and so was dropping by not long after the Senate day was over. He popped the door open, looking for a secretary.

"Is Senator Kramer in?" He queried.

[Greater Arab State]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

The passage of his bill earlier that day had put Amaras in an excellent mood, the rotund man swaying a bit as he walked, and whistling a nameless tune, an extra spring in his step and he perambulated through the office building, briefcase in a meaty hand. The extra energy he felt from his first clear legislative success was almost enough to motivate him to take the stairs to his destination. Almost.

He arrived where he planned to, an office do with "Alois Kramer" written on a plaque just outside it. He did not have any reservations or premade plans, but had something he thought the Alabaman might have an interest in, and so was dropping by not long after the Senate day was over. He popped the door open, looking for a secretary.

"Is Senator Kramer in?" He queried.

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.
"Indeed he is Senator" Kramer's secretary said looking up.

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

"Does he take walk-ins?" Amaras asked, stepping inside and beginning to close the door behind him as he did so, before receiving an answer.

[Greater Arab State]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

"Does he take walk-ins?" Amaras asked, stepping inside and beginning to close the door behind him as he did so, before receiving an answer.

"Yes he does Senator." The secretary responded standing up and opening the door to Senator Kramer's office. "Senator Amaras is here Senator." The secretary than holds the door open for Amaras.

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

Amaras strolled into the office, glancing about, before settling his gaze on its occupant.

"Senator Kramer. A pleasure to get to speak with you, for the first time, really."

[Greater Arab State]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

Amaras strolled into the office, glancing about, before settling his gaze on its occupant.

"Senator Kramer. A pleasure to get to speak with you, for the first time, really."

"It is my honour to speak to you as well Senator." Kramer said standing up stretching his hand out towards Amaras.

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

Amaras clasped the outstretched hand in his own massive paw, and shook it twice.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

[Greater Arab State]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

Amaras clasped the outstretched hand in his own massive paw, and shook it twice.

"Mind if I take a seat?"

"Of course." Kramer said sitting down "Feel free to have a drink from the cabinet over there." Kramer said pointing towards his right.

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

"My thanks for the hospitality." Amaras said, settling into the seat, though he elected not to partake.

"How has your day been, Senator?" He asked.

"You can call me Peter, by the way. Mind if I call you Alois?"

[Greater Arab State]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

"My thanks for the hospitality." Amaras said, settling into the seat, though he elected not to partake.

"How has your day been, Senator?" He asked.

"You can call me Peter, by the way. Mind if I call you Alois?"

"I'm fine with that Peter." Kramer said smilingly slightly. "My day has went well Peter. How about yours?"

[Prolieum]

Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington D.C.

"Very well, now that we can finally have the chance to teach Creationism again. I'll be doing even better once Breckenridge and Fowler finally wear out their vocal cords objecting and we can get the Preservation of Marriage Act passed." Amaras replied.