C, 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-25)
Spring had arrived in earnest along Lake Erie, arousing slumbering species of all sorts to this seasonal change. Yet a last murmur of what had gone before echoed across the landscape. Snow blanketed budding flowers, and outdoor furnishings that had been brought out too early. As the start of Major League Baseball commenced, in Cleveland, a nip of frost lingered in the air.
Townshend Carr Lincoln sat on his shielded porch, fiddling with the tuning wheel of an old, transistor radio. He had hoped to get the game in real time, via one of their local radio outlets. But while cursing softly over a half-jug of Kentucky bourbon, he instead caught the din of a press conference beginning, in Columbus.
Governor Mark Moerlein was at a cluster of microphones, in a rumpled suit and necktie. He did not seem eager to face members of the press.
“Before I take any questions, let me offer this brief, opening statement. I think you all know that there have been acts of vandalism across our country, which have targeted owners of Tesla cars, dealerships, and charging stations. Our president has issued a call to action for citizens to defend and protect these vehicles, wherever they may be located. But today, I have a bill before me, passed by the state legislature, which will give financial aid to spur the construction of a new factory, here on our native soil. Thousands of jobs will be created, and Ohio will take a leadership role in promoting commerce and technological advancement. This makes sense for us, and for the nation. So, I want to announce my intention to sign this measure into law, immediately...”
Gasps sounded around the briefing room. Then, rude noises and coughing could be heard.
A slender, wiry-haired woman in a gray pantsuit stood up, and gestured with the stylus for her iPad. She did not appear to be pleased.
“Sir, I am Maggie Maychic from the Canton Repository. Could you please dispense with the stale rhetoric? We all know your political affiliations. But can this move really be justified when our schools are in need of assistance, after DOGE cuts? And many around this region are going hungry while we subsidize sports teams that perennially lose to their competitors?”
The governor cleared his throat and slouched against the lectern.
“Madam reporter, I think the issue of building our economy is an important cause. I would not compare it to stadium issues for athletic teams...”
The veteran scribbler frowned while adjusting her oversized, feline glasses.
“Elon Musk is someone with zero ties to this state. He’s a figure of controversy, to be charitable. Not a legitimate member of the current presidential cabinet, and certainly not a role model. Why would we spend a single dollar to help him build his electric cars? Doesn’t his excessive wealth make that seem ridiculous?”
Moerlein nearly choked on his own breath.
“I think you’ve missed the point on this, we need jobs in our state. Jobs, jobs, jobs! Mr. Musk needs a safe space to build his Cybertrucks and whatever else. This is a perfect location, we are known as a friendly territory for entrepreneurs and innovators...”
A balding fellow who was short and stocky interrupted this verbal give-and-take with his own query. He waved from the back row, while dripping perspiration.
“Governor, I am Blandon Orridge, from the News-Herald in Willoughby. Is it true that you have chosen a spot in your own home district as a possible site for this manufacturing hub? If so, how does that square with satisfying constituents from more disadvantaged counties around Ohio? Don’t you think that an oversight commission should be established, before any final decision is made?”
The chief executive shuddered and snorted at this claim of a backroom deal having already been made.
“I CAN CATEGORICALLY DENY THAT STORY! IT IS, WHAT OUR LEADER IN WASHINGTON WOULD CALL, FAKE NEWS, TO BE BLUNT!”
The professional wordsmith scratched his head and chortled, loudly.
“Do you expect anyone to believe that denial, sir?”
Ms. Maychic giggled and tapped her stylus like a drumstick.
“It sounds to me like business as usual in our state! Business as usual!”
Governor Moerlein shook his head with the intensity of a frustrated pooch. He had reached a point of total futility.
“I would think residents of Ohio will cheer the news of getting more jobs. Jobs matter! Jobs pave the way for more of everything good, everywhere, for everyone! If it helps to protect an adviser to our current president, so be it! It’s a win-win-win!”
More gasps and coughing resounded in the confined space. Then a third representative of the media stood up, suddenly. He was dressed sloppily, in casual attire. More in the manner of a college student than a mainstream reporter.
“Hey, my name is Stuart Veganarti. I run a podcast on YouTube, called ‘No Effs 2 Give.’ My listeners think that all of you older dudes have already been bought by the corporate types. Like with what happened in the Nuclear Bribery Scandal. They don’t vote unless there’s someone in the mix who can be trusted. Which we don’t see too often. Shit, pretty much never at all! Anyway, why put your shovel in the dirt for Elon? That’s a chump move, I think. You want people bombing cars here in our neighborhoods? That’s just messed up! Let him go bankrupt! Or leave America for good! Screw that fascist jackass!”
The state leader was puzzled by this spoken-word manifesto.
“Umm... I didn’t hear a real question in that, sorry. We don’t get to pick and choose who wants to invest in this state. It’s our job to work with whoever and whatever comes our way. I don’t hold any bias in what gets decided...”
Laughter reverberated across the crowded room. Then, members of the press corps began to depart, without being dismissed. They had lost interest in participating.
Governor Moerlein was visibly rattled. He slammed the rostrum with both hands, and huffed. His voice sounded weak and hoarse.
“Thank you all for coming here today! Thank you! Thank you very much!”