Rainbow in the Dark

[Sopranos Republican]

Boston, Mass

March 17,1991

Our story begins on a crisp, cold, St. Patrick’s night outside of Flannigan’s Irish Pub in South Boston, Massachusetts. To a casual observer this would appear to be a celebratory night like any other St. Patrick’s Day. However, this assumption would not be correct. Before all of the years of shocking revelations, manipulation, betrayal, victory, and defeat that would shape the political landscape of 1990’s America, stood two men, determined to leave their mark on the country.

Hardy: Where the f**k is this guy? It’s 10:00 o’clock, he was supposed to be here 2 hours ago.
Donahue: He’ll be here soon, he’s always fashionably late.
Hardy: Fashionably? If he was fashionably late he would’ve been here an hour and a half ago!
Donahue: I don’t know what the hell you’re flipping out about, where do you gotta be that’s so important tomorrow, dinner with the queen of England?
Hardy: I’ll have you know that you’re being rude in public, and I don’t appreciate it. I have an important meeting with a Superintendent of Boston Public Schools.
Donahue: Oh yeah, good ol’ BPS. I’m so sorry Mr. Governor of the Commonwealth, I didn’t realize you were so important. Man I remember you before politics when you were just like the rest of us, that guy would’ve just blown off the meeting.
Hardy: Oh excuse me Mr. Washington hotshot, in my state we attend scheduled meetings out of respect for other people, and their feelings. Unlike some people.
Donahue: I’m assuming you’re referring to me flying home this weekend and blowing off my meeting with the Chairwoman of MADD. They deserve it. They gave the United States The most archaic alcohol laws in the entire goddamn first world.
Hardy: Yeah, whatever dude. You got another Newport?
Donahue: Yeah man, I’ve got you.
Hardy: *Lights up cigarette, and takes a drag* Oh man, what’s up Johnny!

Before the two men stood Johnny Flannigan, owner of the pub of his namesake.

Flannigan: Senator Donahue! Governor Hardy! Happy St. Patrick’s Day, boys!
Donahue: You too Johnny!
Flannigan: What are you guys doing out here anyhow? The party’s inside.
Hardy: We’re waiting for a friend of ours’ who is running extremely late.
Donahue: I wouldn’t say extremely, more like fashionably late.
Flannigan: Alright well stay as long as you like, I’ll be tending the bar if you need me.
Hardy: Alright thanks John.
Donahue: What a cool guy.
Hardy: Yeah he’s the best.

Suddenly a tall dark figure approaches wearing a scaly cap, and dark trench coat, holding a brief case in one hand, and a bottle of Jamison’s Irish Whiskey in the other.

Westman: Jesus Christ, you guys are really f***in gay. Like you were both acting like school girls around that dude.
Donahue: First of all f**k you. Secondly, how long have you been listening to us?
Westman: Oh, I’ve been listening on and off for about an hour and a half, I’m always fashionably late you know.
Hardy: You could’ve told us you were here instead of leaving us standing here like jackasses for over an hour.
Westman: I was inside partying with the locals like God intended. You guys are the dumbasses who were standing outside for no goddamn reason.
Donahue: How did you hear us if you were in the bar this whole time?
Westman: Man, you guys would make really sh***y detectives, I was literally sitting at the table right next to the window right here and you guys didn’t even notice me. I was talking to this really hot red headed broad.
Donahue: Well Scott, you’re gonna have to pay your tab and wrap it up, because we’re going to have to continue with the rest of our dealings elsewhere.
Westman: Why the hell would we do that? The night is still young, you guys are here mingling with your constituents, and I’ve already made like 12 new friends since I’ve been here. Seems like business is booming to me.
Hardy: The plans that we need to discuss are not the type that we would want any eager young reporters, or drunken loose lipped locals to hear.
Westman: Well wherever the hell you guys are taking me, there better be plenty of booze and misadventure to be had.
Donahue: *Grinning* Oh don’t you worry about that, I’m just the man to provide you with both.

[Sopranos Republican]

Rainbow in the Dark - Dio https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-G0u13COALA

[Sopranos Republican]

James Michael Hardy was born on June 18th, 1950 in South Boston, Massachusetts to Daniel P. Hardy, and Elizabeth Mary O’Connell. Hardy’s father Daniel was a World II veteran who was born to Irish immigrants Michael Hardy and Rose Callahan, and grew up in South Boston’s Irish Catholic working class neighborhoods. He worked most of his life as a union Ironworker in South Boston. Hardy’s mother Elizabeth was the daughter of former Fitchburg, Massachusetts Mayor Stephen O’Connell. Her mother was Rhoda Fitzgerald, an artist and poet who was somewhat famous locally, after one of her poems about World War I made it into a July 1917 Sunday edition of The Boston Globe.

Hardy’s childhood wasn’t always the happiest. His father was a man who showed few emotions, and when he did they were generally influenced by the bottle. His mother was increasingly distant as the years went on, increasingly being tempted by the ability to use her small inheritance to purchase a house and live a new life with her kids, away from Daniel. She never acted on these fantasies however, as despite the fact that Daniel wasn’t exactly wealthy, his job as an ironworker was sufficient to pay for their house, and even enough to take a trip to the Grand Canyon every few years. Hardy had two brothers: John and Peter. John followed in his father’s footsteps and joined the Ironworkers Union when he turned 18, and Peter earned a Bachelor’s degree in History from Boston College in 1971, and became a High School teacher.

James’ parents worried when he was in middle school that he would become a burnout who would never achieve much in life. His grades were unimpressive to say the least, and he began smoking weed and drinking heavily by the time he was 15 years old. It was that same year that Hardy got his first job bussing tables at Flannigan’s Irish Pub. The owner of the pub, Johnny Flannigan, saw potential in the young man. James was able to name every U.S. President and knew many historical facts that the majority of adults that knew him didn’t have any idea about. Flannigan’s pub was among the most famous in the area, and as a result, Johnny Flannigan knew many Massachusetts state lawmakers who would come to his bar after a long day on Beacon Hill. Both Johnny and many of the reps who patronized his pub were impressed by James’ ability to talk to people about the issues of the day, as well as the way he managed to impress complete strangers with both his personality, and his knowledge. Flannigan began to encourage James to put more time into his studies during slow nights when the pub was nearly empty, and began to tutor him in both political science and history. Flannigan himself worked for a few campaigns in his day including the 1952 U.S. Senate Campaign of John F. Kennedy, but decided to leave the political world in favor of opening his namesake pub in 1961. Flannigan never dreamed to be a politician, but he always was one who wanted to make a positive difference in the lives of others.

James began to embrace Flannigan’s advice, spending more time with Flannigan than his own father by the time he was a Junior in High School. He graduated high school in 1968 with a 3.7 GPA to both his parents’ and Mr. Flannigan’s proud embrace. However the celebration would not last too long for James, as the United States was in the throws of a brutal war in Vietnam, and young James Michael Hardy was now of drafting age.

[Sopranos Republican]

11:00 PM March 17, 1991

Donahue is driving his 76’ F-150 Pickup truck through the Southwest suburbs of Boston. Scott Westman is in the passenger seat and Hardy is seated in the cab of the truck, it is a dark night and the only light visible inside the truck is the flickering of the cigarette hanging from Senator Donahue’s mouth reflecting in the rear view mirror.

Westman: Man, why the hell do you still drive this thing? You’re a U.S. Senator for Christ’s sake.
Donahue: Well I’m certainly not going to drive the Beamer on a night like this. You’re from Montana, Scott, you must have a winter vehicle, no?
Westman: Yeah but I mean at least my truck doesn’t have a GODDAMN HOLE IN THE FLOOR.
Donahue: Eh, it’s a benefit. This way when I throw my butts out of the floor, the cops don’t see it, or McDonald’s wrappers for that matter.
Hardy: I think you guys should take a moment to reflect on why we’re here in the first place.
Donahue: Jimmy is right, we have an important proposition to make here, Senator. And I would like to ask for your full sup——
Westman: *Interrupting* WHAT.... WHAT IN GOD’S NAME IS THAT?!

Senator Westman is absolutely dumbfounded by what he is seeing. It appears to him that someone has placed a spaceship in the middle of the woods in a small Massachusetts town..

Donahue: Oh that’s Foxborough Stadium, home of the New England Patriots.
Westman: The New England whats?
Hardy: At least we have a football team. You don’t have any professional sports in Montana, or minorities, for that matter.
Westman: Motherfu**er at least we appreciate architecture enough to never build something LIKE THAT.
Donahue: I mean do you guys even know what architecture is? I’ve been to Montana, and I’ve gotta say, I really didn’t see any buildings at all, much less good architecture.
Westman: I’d rather live in a goddamn barn than near THAT thing!
Donahue: Alright calm down Scottie we’re just busting balls. Want a beer?
Westman: Yes dear god, yes.

Donahue reaches between his legs for the 30 rack of Miller Lites beneath his seat. He passes a beer to Westman, one to Hardy, and grabs one for himself. Westman is staring at the can in apparent disgust.

Westman: Is this MILLER LITE?
Donahue: Yes sir, the one and only!
Hardy: I’m already done with mine. Can I get another?
Donahue: Sure man *passes beer*
Westman: *Takes a chug* Oh God, I don’t think I can drink this sh*t.
Hardy: Why not, you more of a Coors guy? I am too, I always tell him to get Coors yet he insists on getting Miller.
Donahue: Well then next time you can go into the store and get the beer then.
Hardy: I told you man I can’t, my ID is expired.
Westman: Wait a minute, You’re the GODDAMN GOVERNOR OF THE STATE, and you mean to tell me they won’t sell you booze?
Hardy: Yeah man, last week I went into this gas station and tried buying some Coors, and the guy at the counter refused to sell to me. He actually had the TV on and I was on the news giving a speech and I told him, “look man, that’s me,” and he didn’t believe me and told me to leave. I’m never going to that store again!
Westman: What kind of state is this?!

Donahue pulls into a row of unassuming apartment buildings about 10 minutes away from the stadium.  He parks his truck on the grass next to one of these buildings.

Westman: Uhhh, does like your cocaine dealer live here or something?
Donahue: Nah man, my friend Dave lives here. He’s good people. This is as good a place as any to set up shop.
Westman: Alright thank God. *opens the passenger door of the truck*
Donahue: Wait, where are you going?
Westman: I thought you said we were setting up shop at your friend’s house?
Donahue: Nah man, he’s not home. But he said we can park here.
Westman: Wait wait wait. So let me get this straight? Here we are, two U.S. Senators, and the Governor of Massachusetts, and we have nowhere to go to discuss plans besides this rusty old truck?!
Donahue: What we’re discussing is confidential and can only be known by the 3 of us. No one else. For this plan to work I need all of us to swear that we will never tell a soul about this plan. This is the most secure place in the world by my calculation, we might as well be on f***in Mars.
Hardy: Yeah he’s right. We can’t allow anyone to overhear the plan.
Westman: And what plan is this? Are you running for president or something Matt?
Donahue: I’m not running for President. The future of our party and country lies on the shoulders of the man sitting behind you.
Westman: Jimmy? Not to be a dick here, but why Jimmy? Why don’t you just run? 
Donahue: Scott, you of all people should know why. It’s the same answer to the question why can’t you run for president?
Westman: Because we don’t suck enough dick or something?
Donahue: Because we’re too polarizing. We may even have a shot at winning the Democratic primary but either of us would get destroyed in the general. Jimmy on the other hand has the chance to be seen as an outsider, a new type of politician. And his views are basically just like ours, but with better branding.
Hardy: I don’t know about that, he’s the only politician who has come up to me and encouraged me to run and he’s my friend so I’d really rather hear it from someone else. What do you think, Senator?
Westman: Well, I sure as hell don’t want another four years of Bush. And I’d much rather have you win than some milquetoast Dixiecrat. I’ll support your candidacy, but what’s with all the secrecy? I understand it’s early but you guys have been whisking me around like you’re trying to have me whack someone for you.
Donahue: Because, Jimmy’s not the only person in this car that I want running next year.
Westman: WHAT?!
Donahue: Think about it. You run in the primary against Jimmy and whoever else decides to run in the primary. You spend the majority of your campaign brutally attacking the other candidates besides Jimmy, only mentioning him on rare occasions, or when the press specifically asks you about him by name. Taking votes away from other candidates, but not drawing enough support to actually win the race.
Westman: You want me to run as a goddamn plant? Oh come on. Don’t you think the voters will see right through this sh*t?
Donahue: Why would they? I’m the only real link between the two of you, and as far as they’re concerned I’m just another Senator.
Westman: What’s in it for me?
Donahue: Jimmy picks you as his running mate after he wins the primary.
Westman: Won’t that just give us away though?
Donahue: As long as we all publicly keep our distance during the primary we’re golden. The only thing it will be is a conspiracy theory. Nothing more.
Westman: Jimmy, you’re the one who has to actually run the campaign. How do you feel about this?
Hardy: I’m a little unnerved by the whole thing honestly, but I love this country and believe that it’s being run into the ground by greedy trickle down public policy. If there’s a chance I can put a stop to that than I have to at least try. Maybe I’m not the most qualified candidate to ever run, but all I know is that we need someone who has been poor and who understands what war does to people, and I guess I fit both of those bills. I’m in if you are Scott.
Westman: F**k it. I’m in.

Donahue grabs 3 whiskey glasses from his trunk and pours a drink for each man. The men clink their glasses together in celebration as the seemingly thunderous sound causes Hardy’s mind to drift off into a different time; in a different world...

[Sopranos Republican]

February 2, 1969

Vietnam

James Michael Hardy, was a working class kid with increasing aspirations towards going to college and achieving a higher status in the world than his father. Like millions of other young Americans in his generation, these dreams had to be put on hold potentially forever, due to two radically opposing ideologies on a collision course that had the capability to end humanity itself. For Hardy however, there was never even a slight consideration to dodge the draft as many others had done. His father was a World War II Veteran, and would never have stood for one of his own sons avoiding such a major civic responsibility. Jimmy himself was deeply patriotic, but even he felt it was quite unjust that he had just been sent to fight in a war that he had no power to vote against. Jimmy had turned 18 in June 1968, the same month he graduated high school, and 5 months before finding himself in Vietnam. His brother John, who was the oldest Hardy boy , and 5 years’ Jimmy’s elder, had been serving in the United States Marine Corps since 1966. His brother Peter who was two years older than him, received medical deferments from the draft, as he had suffered from asthma and heart conditions from a young age.

The first few months of service were by far the hardest for James. He and his brothers had always loathed their father’s drunken verbal tirades against them and their mother, but by the second week of basic training Jimmy had come to long for his father’s brand of tough love over the type of abuse he was receiving from the Army Drill Sargents. And when Hardy arrived in Vietnam, he in turn, found himself longing for the days of boot camp. He worried about many affairs during these days. How was his brother John holding up in the Marines? How was Peter doing at Boston College? How was his mother dealing with being home alone with their father? He also thought much about his own mortality and what would happen at his funeral should he not make it back to Massachusetts. Perhaps his mother would be unable to even show up out of immense grief. Somehow he imagined that Mr. Flannigan would shed far more tears than his father would. Jimmy had only seen his father cry once in his life. The day that Ted Williams retired from the Red Sox.

Still though, there were positives that happened in recent weeks. Jimmy had made a few unlikely friends in the Army. His two closest army friends were Jeffrey Wheeler and Jackie Armstrong. Jeff was a young man from Alabama who arrived in Vietnam the same day as Jimmy. Jackie was an African American man from Chicago who had been in the army for over a year. Much to Jimmy’s surprise, Jeff and Jackie also became fast friends, in a defiance of era stereotypes. The trio would spend late nights on watch by the campfire trading stories of their pre-Vietnam lives. Jackie shared tales of his collegiate track and weight lifting career at Northwestern University. Jeff would tell of churchyard barbecues and his job as a writer for the town newspaper. Jimmy spinned yarns about his father’s makeshift neighborhood auto repair shop that he ran on weekends out of their garage, and the time that him and Mr. Flannigan caught a 35 lb. pike off the coast of Hyannis. Jimmy looked forward to these nighttime watch sessions far more than the daily tasks of cleaning his rifle for the 17th time in an hour, or the Sargent’s endless rants about how his uniform looked like regurgitated dog sh*t. However, Jimmy would soon learn such is life, and especially Vietnam war life, that nothing lasts forever.

[Sopranos Republican]

The New York Times

March 18, 1991

WASHINGTON - Officials Across the U.S. React to Rodney King Video; Senators Donahue and Westman Hold Press Conference

Senator Matthew Donahue (D-MA) and Senator Scott Westman (D-MT) held a press conference with leaders of the Congressional Black Caucus on Monday afternoon. In the press conference they harshly condemned the actions of Los Angeles Police Department officers who beat Rodney King, an African American motorist, after pulling him over in the aftermath of a high-speed chase in the early morning hours of March 3. Senator Donahue stated “let me be perfectly clear, and speak slowly so that members of the press will understand what I’m saying. I don’t care if Rodney King had prior criminal convictions, or that he wrongly tried to resist arrest. None of that changes the fact that the actions committed by those officers were cowardly, draconian, and criminal, plain and simple.” Senator Westman largely concurred with Donahue’s remarks on the matter: “I think a very valid question, that all Americans should be asking themselves right now is: Who polices the police?” Congressman Charlie Rangel (D-NY) thanked the Senators for their support, and added: “I think it is very sad that we’re still seeing these types of police incidents that disproportionately effect African Americans in this country.

Senator Westman went further, and criticized the Bush Administration for their silence on the matter thus far. “What kind of President is so afraid of losing the support of hardened racists that he is unwilling to do even the bare minimum and unequivocally condemn this kind of egregious discrimination. I thought that the Republicans were supposed to be the party of reigning in the excesses of big government at all costs? My question to GOP leadership is simple: Is this big government enough for you?”

Many pundits were quick to point out that while criticism of police was nothing new for the Senator from Montana, he has been met with criticism from black political leaders in the past for perceived insensitivity. Conservative author and commentator William F. Buckley weighed in on his PBS show Firing Line, suggesting that Westman may have ulterior motives for his quick condemnation of the police. “Well I think when you look at what [Westman] is doing here there may be something else at play. Look, here’s a career politician who has consistently veered on the side of political incorrectness which has often drawn the irk of African American political leaders. There have been rumors of late that he may be interested in seeking a future role in Democratic Senate leadership, perhaps even majority leader, and clearly if he can win the support of the congressional black caucus, then it may very well make him the frontrunner in a potential leadership battle.”

Donahue and Westman were not the only politicians who commented on the King beating. Governors from several states also weighed in on the incident. California’s Governor Pete Wilson (R) said that he was “sadden by what I saw” and that a thorough investigation into the matter was needed. Governor James Michael Hardy (D) of Massachusetts said that “what we saw on that videotape should appall every American to their core, we must demand that a thorough investigation into the incident is carried out, and we need to make sure that policing is carried out equally regardless of race.” Vermont governor Jack Callahan (D), stated that “police officers are sworn to protect and serve the citizens that they’re policing, and what we saw on that tape shows neither Mr. King being protected or served by those officers. We must hold them accountable for their actions.”

[Sopranos Republican]

Vietnam

May 14, 1969


A Cold Pint of Victory


Lt. Redfield entered the room of his platoon and shot a quick visual scan of the area. His men were wearing their customary celebratory uniforms, for this was an occasion for celebration. He held in his right hand a tall pint of amber ale as he gazed across the room. Most of the men held in their hands empty pint glasses awaiting one of the few rewards of a hard fought battle. The lieutenant was one of those men who wore the brunt of battle across his face at all times. He had fought bravely in both the Second World War and Korea, and even received a Purple Heart for his wounding at the Battle of Okinawa. He was a man who was difficult to impress, but on this occasion, the service of two men had left him beyond impressed.


Redfield: Good evening, soldiers.

Platoon: Good evening, sir!

Redfield: I wanted to talk with you all tonight because as you all have learned during your time in the army, war is a retched place, a place so dark that it is often difficult to see any light. However, war also serves another purpose. War forces us all to reach deep inside of ourselves and plunge to our own deepest depths in order to find our resolve, our courage, and our strength. Well tonight, we are here in recognition of three men who indeed found resolve, courage, and strength that allowed our mission to continue successfully. For if it wasn’t for the resolve of these three, the mission would’ve failed miserably. If it wasn’t for their courage, three-quarters of our platoon would’ve either perished or been taken captive yesterday afternoon. If it wasn’t for their strength, many of us probably wouldn’t be standing here today.

I am of course talking about the heroic actions of Lieutenant Ryder, Private First Class: Armstrong, and Private First Class: Hardy. Our mission required extensive air cover for success. We had five choppers providing cover for our ground troops, and within 30 minutes of fighting, four of them had been shot down. Because of the critical actions taken by these men however, one chopper was able to remain in the air, taking out several Viet Cong battlements at the top of the hill, securing our team’s ability to advance and capture the high ground. The outstanding marksmanship ability of Private First Class: Hardy, along with the excellent rocket launching prowess of Private First Class: Armstrong allowed for Lt. Ryder to keep the chopper in the air long enough for our troops to gain the upper hand. They were also able to provide our men with a critical supply drop that gave us a much needed supply of ammunition allowing us to win this battle. It is with great honor that I announce the promotion of two new leaders that we are all incredibly proud of. Corporal Jackie Armstrong, and Corporal James Michael Hardy!!

Platoon: (Cheers Loudly)

Redfield: As long as the two of you are alive, the heart of this army can never be broken! Let’s all have a drink tonight men! You have earned it!


(Armstrong is standing outside of the building smoking a cigarette, while a half-empty beer glass sits firmly in his left hand. Hardy walks outside to join him)

Hardy: Man that’s something huh, corporal?

Armstrong: Yeah man that sh*t’s crazy. And to think I didn’t think I’d last here more than 3 months. Life’s funny sometimes. I never saw myself as an army man. Now I’m apparently some kind of hero. *takes drag*

Hardy I still don’t look at myself like a hero, more like an unwilling contest winner. I really had no choice but to come here.

Armstrong: Well sh*t man, none of us did, that doesn’t make what you did yesterday any less special.

Hardy: Well I mean I could’ve gone to college and probably gotten a draft exemption, but if I did that my dad would’ve kicked my ass.

Armstrong: Yeah but ain’t that the point of college? So that your parents can’t kick your ass? (Laughing)

Hardy: (Laughing) I guess for some people, but it’s not like I could’ve gone too far from home, for one I lived in the biggest college town in the goddamn country, and secondly I would’ve never forgiven myself for leaving my mom back there with my dad voluntarily.

Armstrong: (Laughing) Sh*t man, I wish my father was still around to take care of my mama, we haven’t seen that bastard since that bastard since 56’.

Hardy: Oh sh*t man, I didn’t mean it like that...

Armstrong: (Interrupting) Man I ain’t mad at you, hell I ain’t mad at anyone. That f***er made a choice, and I’ve made my choices. (Begins gazing at stars) Besides, if he were here what the hell would I tell him. Gee dad, thanks for being less of an alcoholic prick than you could’ve been. Gee dad, thanks for gambling some of my mom’s hard earned money instead of all of it. Gee dad, thanks for leaving when I was 10, instead of when I was 5? Nah, I don’t have anything I want to say to that bastard except maybe go f**k yourself.

Hardy: Well, I guess our fathers would probably get along pretty well then. (Chuckling)

Armstrong: Well based on some of them stories you’ve told me I guess so. (Chuckling) Now look at us, sitting out here bitching up a storm while our whole platoon thinks we just fell right from heaven with one duty: to serve in Vietf***ing Goddamn Nam’.

(Staggering drunk outside to where Hardy and Armstrong are standing, a man of average stature appears.)

Wheeler: Oh, well, (belches), well. Look who we have here. It’s the goddamn heroes of the goddamn battle.

Hardy: (Raising glass): Jeff!

Armstrong: Well it’s about time you showed.. I was beginning to worry that the Viet Cong had you in one of their rat holes as bait.

Wheeler: Oh don’t you pretty s worry about me now, I may not be a goddamn corporal, but I’m pretty sure I can hold my own.

Hardy: Oh come now, corporal doesn’t mean jacksh*t. We’re still the same old useless sacks of sh**t that Sgt. Mathers always thought we were.

Wheeler: No I mean seriously, you guys are f***in heroes. Anyone who says otherwise can write a poem.

Armstrong: Write a poem?

Wheeler: Yeah, write a poem about the day MY FISTS CONNECTED WITH THEIR MISERABLE FACES!! *Smashes glass on ground*

Hardy: Goddamn Jeff, how many of those have you had?

Wheeler: Enough to forgot that my father is a pastor and my mother still supports prohibition HAHAHAHAHA!

Armstrong: Well there is something to be said about moderation I suppose.

Wheeler: Tell them they can moderate my GODDAMN —— (Wheeler suddenly falls to the ground, and passes out.)

Hardy: I guess they don’t teach people how to drink booze in the south, it must be a “learn as you go” type of thing.

Armstrong: (laughing) Yeah they’re not too informed down there about a lot of things. I would know. He’ll be fine though, I guess we’ll move him to his bunk when we get the chance.

Hardy: Yeah I ain’t too worried about it at the moment.

Armstrong: Sh*t man, thank god, it’s been a long couple of days, maybe we should just leave him out here where he can rest.

Hardy: You always know just what to say, the man with the plan so to speak.

Armstrong: Yeah, I guess I am aren’t I?

(Suddenly Armstrong locks eyes with Hardy, and begins to lean in. Before Jimmy can even react, his lips are suddenly locked together with Jackie’s.)

Hardy: Woah, bro. What the f**k was that?

Armstrong: Oh come on. You’ve been sending me signals since you got here. You were totally asking for it.

Hardy: WHAT? Bro, I was just standing here talking to you.

Armstrong: You may have not said it with your mouth, but your eyes were telling a different story.

Hardy: Jackie, there are Lieutenants and Sargents sleeping over there, if they see us..

Armstrong: There’s a simple question you need to ask yourself here. Did you enjoy it?

Hardy: I don’t even know why you would do that.

Armstrong: Jimmy, you’re not answering the question. Did you enjoy it?

Hardy: Jackie, if anyone sees us, we’re both beyond f**ked.

Armstrong: Well I have my own tent tonight. It’s getting pretty late so I’m going to go to my tent now. If I don’t see you within 30 minutes I’ll assume you’re not interested and will be going to sleep. See you later Corporal.

Jimmy didn’t want to admit it to Jackie, but he had very much enjoyed Jackie’s advance. He had a girlfriend in High School, and had even had sex a few times, but he couldn’t remember any time he had enjoyed an encounter as much as the brief exchange he had just had with Jackie Armstrong. Still, Jimmy couldn’t imagine himself as a homosexual. What would his parents think of this. Or Mr. Flannigan, or pretty much everyone back in Southie. But then Jimmy thought briefly of the possibilities. Of something that he was sure he wanted to explore regardless of what anyone else thought. Perhaps for one moment in his life, Jimmy could be completely free of the thoughts and expectations of everyone else besides himself. And rightfully so, this was his life after all. Jimmy lit up a cigarette as he proceeded to walk towards Armstrong’s tent. In what seemed to be an eternity for a short walk, he finally made it to the front of the tent. Jimmy nervously peered his head inside to find Jackie sitting on top of his sleeping bag. Jackie stood up and began to unbuckle his pants.

Armstrong: So it appears that you’ve changed your mind, eh?

(Jackie’s pants fell to the ground and made what sounded like an earth-shattering sound. Jimmy’s jaw dropped to the ground, for Jackie was extremely well-endowed.

Hardy: I’ve never seen one so big.

Armstrong: Well, you know what they say about black guys. (grinning)

Hardy: What do they say about black guys?

Armstrong: Oh right, you don’t really know many black people do you? Well don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’m not too rough.

What proceeded can only be described as what happens when you put a hot knife through a stick of butter. Jimmy was extremely conflicted at first, but realized that he had never before had as much fun as he had with Jackie that night. In those moments for the first time in his life, he didn’t care if anyone else found out what happened, even his family. He now knew that from this point forward, life in Vietnam was going to be a lot more exciting.

[Sopranos Republican]

April 6, 1991

Brockton, Massachusetts

A Modest Proposal

It was a cool early spring Saturday evening in New England. Senator Donahue had returned home for the weekend, as he tended to do often during his time in congress. Donahue did this for a multitude of reasons. For one he liked to check in on his parents, and secondly he liked to hang out with old friends. This served two major purposes. Firstly, it made him look like he gave a damn about his constituents in the eyes of his supporters, but secondly, it afforded him the opportunity to ensure that they were doing sufficiently well. Senator Donahue was not a man who cared much for detractors or backstabbers. However people who were loyal to him, he would fight for to the death. The man he was interacting with tonight was certainly in the latter category. Donahue sat in the living room of Nicolas Soltano. Nicolas, or simply Nick as he was known to Donahue, was an old friend of Donahue’s as well as the current Mayor of Brockton.

Donahue: Oh man, this is why I keep coming back. You always have the best whiskey in town.

Soltano: Well, of course. I’m not a cheap motherf***er like you.

Donahue: Cheap? Man, I always pay for the good sh*t now. Back when we were in college I could barely rub two pennies together for a McDonald’s burger. Nevermind fine, aged whiskey.

Soltano: Whiskey, weed, hookers. What are you looking for?

Donahue: Well that depends on who you ask.

Soltano: C’mon let’s go out for dinner.

Donahue: You mean, the one and only?

Soltano: Of course.

Donahue: Excellent. I have some catching up to do on that side of town as well.

Donahue stepped into the garage and was beholden at the site of Nick Soltano’s new bright red Ferrari sports car.

Donahue: Goddamn man, when the hell did you get this?

Soltano: I just got her on Tuesday, ain’t she a beaut?

Donahue: I guess the wine business is paying off, huh?

Soltano: Yeah man, I knew it’d be good but even I’m surprised at just how good.

Donahue: Hey, it was an excellent idea you had. Making wine in Massachusetts out of cranberries, our most abundant natural resource next to fried clams. That sh*t was genius.

Soltano: You wanna drive?

Donahue: The Ferrari?

Soltano: Yeah, I don’t see why not. You haven’t killed us yet!

Donahue: Well I’ve never driven one of these babies, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Donahue sped through the streets of Brockton as if he was a Nascar driver trying to win an important Winston Cup race. He drove by at least 3 police cruisers, but none were pulling over this particular car, this was the mayor’s automobile after all. They pulled into the Cape Cod Cafe Pizzeria, and met with two men in the parking lot. Eddie Campello and Tommy Tantillo were two local legitimate businessmen who were old friends with Donahue and Solano. Eddie was in his mid-40s, about 5 years older than Solano and Donahue. Tommy was a 75 year old man, who served as a sort of father figure to the entire neighborhood.

Campello: Senator! Mayor!

Donahue: Eddie! Tommy!

Tantillo: What are you boys doin here, huh? Washington get too boring for ya Matt?

Donahue: Nobody in Washington can get their heads out of their asses long enough to make pizza as good as this place, that in and of itself is enough reason to come home as often as I do.

Tantillo: (Laughing) I guess we should head inside then, before you boys hit up that gr**ser food truck across the street.

Soltano: Sounds like a plan.

The four men stepped inside the restaurant and received a standing ovation from one man sitting at the bar.

Donahue: Oh Jesus H F***ing Christ. (Laughing) They got you out of your bunker?!

The man at the bar was another older gentleman that was quite well acquainted with Senator Donahue. Paulie Callahan was the Vice President of the local chapter of the International Brotherhood of the Teamsters, as well as Donahue’s old high school football coach. He was also a board member of the state’s AFL-CIO chapter.

Callahan: Let me ask you a serious question right now Matt. You ever suck a dick that you didn’t like?

Donahue: (Laughing) F**k you Paulie, why do you have to ask me this every time I see you.

Callahan: Well, I’ve gotta keep you on your feet. If I don’t then the Republicans will take over and make all of us suck their dicks!

The 4 men joined Callahan at the bar, what appeared from an outside perspective to be a bunch of old friends catching up for food and adult beverages, was actually serving an important purpose for Senator Donahue’s master plan.


Donahue: So Paulie, what do you think of our Governor? I told you he’d be good for our shared goals.

Callahan: He’s doing a good job, though I wish he’d have more balls sometimes.

Donahue: How so?

Callahan: Well the teacher’s union is worried that he’s bending the knee too much to the charter school movement. We’re afraid that they may try to pass a charter school bill by year’s end. We’re unsure if we can count on the Governor’s steadfast opposition. For instance, on Tuesday we know he held a meeting with Jack Stevens, President of Better Mass Schools, along with several leaders in the legislature.

Donahue: If I were able to convince him to veto any bill that allows teacher hiring from outside of the bargaining unit, would this quell your concerns?

Callahan: The teacher’s union would rather see a veto of any charter school bill, I’m worried that if they are able to pass a charter bill even with a clause that prohibits non-union hiring, later on they will push to remove that clause.

Donahue: I can potentially use my influence to kill the bill, but I would like something in return for my efforts.

Callahan: Oh?

Donahue: (Whispering) We’re exploring the possibility of Hardy running for president, and I’d like the full support of the AFL-CIO when he announces.

Callahan: (Laughing) Man you sure are a shifty f**k you know that? You’re asking for a mile of my support in exchange for an inch of yours, which as far as my sources tell me is all you’ve got.

Donahue: First off, F**k you Paulie, you can ask your wife how many inches of support I’m able to provide. And secondly, who the hell else are you going to support? Jerry Brown? Lloyd Bentsen? We’ve all heard the likely names of next year’s Democratic field, and I can guarantee you, all of them besides Hardy will sell labor down the river.

Tantillo: We’ll support your boy, if you support our’s. Tell him the plan Nick.

Soltano: Word on the street is, Joe Moakley is thinking of retiring. If this happens, I’m running for his seat.

Donahue: Well sh*t. Of course I’ll support you Nick.

Tantillo: We don’t just need your support, Matt. We need your help in making sure Moakley retires.

Donahue: Why don’t you just talk to him Paulie? You’ve known him far longer than any of us.

Callahan: I used to have his ear far more than I do these days. He’s been increasingly harder to get in touch with as time goes on. You’re in Washington, which is why I think you need to get in his ear.

Donahue: I’d love to see the Mayor in congress more than anyone believe me, but why are we trying to force Moakley out? The man is a national treasure for f***s sake.

Callahan: It’s becoming increasingly apparent due to his health problems that he is not a vote we can count on in critical future legislation. This year he has been more inactive than at any time during his political career. He’s missed more votes than he’s made!

Tantillo: It’s time for some young blood in there, Matt.

Donahue: I know he’s been concerned about cleaning up the waterfront in Southie for awhile. If I can convince Jimmy to push for a bill funding beach restoration across the state, with an emphasis on beaches in the city in exchange for Moakley’s retirement, he’ll probably take the bait. I know for a fact that at least part of him desperately wants to retire.

Soltano: I’ll only run if Moakley retires, I’m not going to challenge him in a heated primary race.

Callahan: If you can pull this off and convince Hardy to veto the Charter bill, I can get you guys the union support you need in the primary.

Donahue: (Grinning) I guess we have a deal then! I propose a toast; To the future!

The five men clinked their glasses together in a resounding manner that resonated across the entirety of the restaurant. Donahue knew in his head that he had just struck gold.

[Sopranos Republican]

June 27, 1969

Vietnam

The Ides of War

James Hardy had just woken up on a hot June morning in Southeast Asia. He was preparing a simple breakfast of biscuits and gravy cooked over a campfire outside of his tent, along with a canteen that filled the air with the delectable scent of fresh coffee. This was nothing like summer time in New England. The humidity of the jungle was nearly unbearable to his light complexion. He felt a migraine coming on in his temple. Hardy had superstitions about migraines. There were many times in his life that he could remember a migraine being shortly accompanied thereafter by bad news.

When he was 8 he remembered having a migraine when his parents sat down with him and his two brothers to inform him that they were going to be moving to a new apartment yet again for the third time in two years. When his family was forced to move, it was never because of something positive such as upward mobility allowing them to move into a bigger home. It was usually because his father’s gambling problems had once again gotten in the way of them being able to stay put where they were at, and were being forced to find a cheaper living option. When he was 15 he had a migraine in the morning before an important baseball game that would propel his team into the playoff tournament in the event of a win. During the 3rd inning of the game, Hardy who was playing in right-field retreated backwards to catch a fly ball, and due to the egregiously un-level field, tumbled backwards, the entire weight of his body falling on his left wrist, leading to a most painful fracture. He recalled his father remarking to the doctor at the hospital later that day: “He may not have the talent of Ted Williams, but boy oh boy, he does have the heart!” He found it humorous that his father found a sense of pride in a moment that Jimmy himself had thought of as an embarrassment.

Suddenly he saw Lt. Redfield entering his tent as he poured himself another cup of coffee. He was used to Redfield making the rounds, but due to his luck with migraines, he was worried this the circumstances of this visit may not be the most hospitable.

Redfield: Good morning, Corporal.

Hardy: Good morning, sir! Coffee?

Redfield: Sure, why the hell not? It’s the best damn compliment to the morning’s first cigarette. *Pulls out pack from his back pocket* Corporal Hardy, your leadership skills are quite impressive, I have to say.

Hardy: Thank you sir! I’m just trying to do my part.

Redfield: Ahh, stop being so goddamn modest for a second, would ya? You’re ability to lead has been getting attention from friends of mine in high places. Like a few weeks ago when you and your men were pinned down at Hamburger Hill. We lost a lot of brave men that day, but thanks to your keen instincts, your whole team returned unscathed. Well, except for Pvt. Wheeler’s unfortunate leg wound, but even still your men were able to carry him back to camp without anyone dying in the crossfire. Leaving no men behind is the mark of a great leader. I told General Daniels about your story, who in turn, recounted the events of that day to President Nixon. They both were so impressed that they wanted men like you involved in an important reconnaissance mission.

Hardy: What do you need me to do?

Redfield: We need men to covertly scout out the Ho Chi Minh trail, the PAV’s most important supply link.

Hardy: I thought it was common knowledge that the trail was being used to transport men, ammunition, supplies, and whatever else they need.

Redfield: It’s the “whatever else” category that is so important to our success. There is increasing worry that they may be using the trail to transport toxic chemical weapons to be used against American troops. We’re not sure if they made the chemicals themselves, or if they’re coming from a third-party such as the Chinese or the Soviets. You’d be doing an invaluable service to all of us, to our country. You’d likely be working with the CIA and the Marines, as well as some other Army personnel who have shown promise. Don’t get me wrong, it’s an extremely dangerous endeavor, but I can almost guarantee it will come with reward as well. Why don’t you eat your breakfast and I’ll talk to you more about it later?

Hardy: Sounds good, thank you sir.

Jimmy was a bit taken aback by the Lieutenant’s proposition. He had felt he was doing an adequate job in the military, but he was surprised that he had gotten noticed by even the President of the United States. Still though, it was a very bittersweet mix of emotions that he was feeling. He knew that declining the mission meant that he was basically slapping the faces of his Lieutenant, General, and even the President. He also knew that accepting the mission would mean that he may never see Jeff Wheeler, his beloved Jackie Armstrong, or any of his other many platoon friends ever again. It uncomfortably reminded him of the time back in Boston that he decided to get drunk with his friends Sean and Triple Threat Teddy, instead of going with his mother to visit his ailing grandmother Rhoda in the nursing home. She unfortunately died the next morning, before Hardy had gotten the chance to say goodbye. His decision to blow her off for his friends still cast a guilting shadow over him. And while joining the CIA for a potentially deadly intelligence mission, was certainly not as fun as drinking in Sean O’Connors’ parents’ Old Colony Ave basement, he felt all the same that it was the selfish choice. Choosing potential self-indulgent gain over the love of those who had bravely fought with him over the course of his time in Vietnam. Suddenly, almost on cue, a refreshingly familiar face peered his head through the flaps of the tent.

Armstrong: There he is! Hail to the motherf***ing chief!

Hardy: Oh, hey Jackie!

Armstrong: You look like you’ve been in the middle of enough thinking to have written your own novel.

Hardy: How could you tell?

Armstrong: C’mon man. Ain’t it clear by now? I’m a people person. I know what you want before you know you want it. I can tell you’ve been thinking, before you’ve stopped thinking about it.

Hardy: Well I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell anyone this, but it’s you so I guess I will. But you can’t tell anyone.

Armstrong: Man what do I look like to you? The New York Times? I’m like one of them priests you Irish boys love so much. My lips are sealed motherfu***er. *Lights cigarette*

Hardy: I wouldn’t say we love them as much as we’re afraid that if we don’t tell them, we’ll end up burning until the end of time. More like a hostage situation than love.

Armstrong: (Laughing) Man the only reason you guys will burn till the end of time is because of your love of whiskey. Of course in that case, I guess I’ll be there with ya.

Hardy: (Laughing) Well I guess you got me there. Redfield just asked me if I’d be interested in an important intel mission, regarding the trail. Apparently both General Daniels and even the goddamn president heard about my actions at Hamburger Hill and think I’d be a good candidate for the job. I may even be dealing with some CIA personnel.

Armstrong: Well congratulations, my man. Getting recognition from Mr. Nixon ain’t easy from what I’ve heard, especially for people like me. Maybe one day you’ll have his job, you’d probably do a better job than that motherf***er.

Hardy: Man you sound like my dad. He told everyone on our block that he was going to be moving to Ireland if Nixon won last year. Hasn’t happened yet, but if there’s one thing about my old man he’s f***ing determined! Can’t imagine how he’d react if I told him he was impressed by my service.

Armstrong: Seems like there’s a lot of things you can’t imagine your dad reacting well to. *Quickly kisses Jimmy*

Hardy: Man, you know how I feel about you, but we’ve gotta be careful. If anyone catches us we’re both f***ed.

Armstrong: As far as I’m concerned they can all go f**k right off. We’re here putting our asses on the line for this country, shouldn’t we be allowed some recreation? Besides what we have is real. I made love to a lot of women, and men in college, I mean A LOT. But I’ve never felt the way about anyone that I feel about you, Jimmy. I guess that’s what war does for a bond.

Hardy: See, this is why I don’t know if I want to go forward with this mission. If I go, we may never see each other again.

Armstrong: Even if you stay here, there may come a day that you will never see me again. We could go into the same battle, with the same men, and one or both of us may not return. As far as I’m concerned you need to do what feels right to you, Jimmy. We’re both survivors, and I believe that God will carry us to survival in this f***in forsaken jungle. Then you can come visit me in Chicago, and I’ll show you what a real city looks like.

Hardy: Don’t sh*t on Boston motherf***er. Though, I guess it would be nice to experience new places. The only places I’ve ever been outside of New England are the Grand Canyon and goddamn Vietnam.

Armstrong: (Laughing) Didn’t you say your pops would force y’all to go there every year?

Hardy: Not every year, but whenever my father would have a year where he didn’t spend all of his extra money on funding his friend Fitzy’s retirement fund through ill-advised poker games, we’d find ourselves at the Grand Canyon.

Armstrong: (Laughing) Well, I guess I’ll be going off to clean my rifle before the Sergeant has a conniption. I’ll see you tonight, Jimmy.

Jackie’s words rung through Jimmy’s head like a church bell rings through a small town at noon on a cool fall day. “Even if you stay here, there may come a day that you will never see me again.”

[Sopranos Republican]

The New York Times

April 14, 1991

New York Times Poll Pegs Senator Bentsen as Early Favorite among Democratic Voters; Favored against President Bush

A New York Times poll conducted among 1,050 likely voters across all 50 states shows Senator and 1988 Democratic Vice Presidential nominee Lloyd Bentsen of Texas as the front runner among a list of 5 potential Democratic presidential candidates. The poll asked voters which candidate they would prefer among a list that along with Senator Bentsen included: Governor Jerry Brown of California, Governor Mario Cuomo of New York, Senator Tom Harkin of Iowa, and Senator Al Gore of Tennessee.

Bentsen: 30%
Brown: 23%
Harkin: 22%
Gore: 13%
Cuomo: 6%
Undecided/Other: 6%


In a head to head matchup between Senator Bentsen and President Bush, 47% of likely voters in the poll preferred Senator Bentsen, while 43% backed President Bush. 8% were undecided, and 2% indicated they would vote for other candidates or abstain from voting altogether. It is worth noting that it is very early in the process, and none of the candidates that were listed as options in the poll have yet indicated any intention to run in next year’s election.



If the election were held today:

Senator Lloyd Bentsen (D-TX) 47%; 319 Electoral Votes
President George H.W. Bush (R-TX) 43%; 186 Electoral Votes
Toss-Up; 33 Electoral Votes

[Sopranos Republican]

April 21, 1991

Washington, D.C.

Firing Line: The Laborers of the Labor Movement



Buckley: He is the Junior United States Senator from the state of Massachusetts, and many consider him to be a rapidly rising star within the Democratic Party. Born in 1953, in Brockton, Massachusetts to a working class background, his father was a union pipefitter, and his mother a school teacher. At 37 years of age, he is the youngest sitting United States Senator and the third youngest member of congress. Yet his background would indicate that his maximum potential should’ve been somewhere between construction worker and small business owner.

Audience: (Laughs)

Buckley: Instead however, he graduated 3rd in his class at Harvard Law School in 1977, went on to start a successful criminal defense legal practice, got elected to the Massachusetts State Senate in 1980, elected as a U.S. Senator in 1984, and reelected by a comfortable margin last year. In all of his electoral victories he has enjoyed tremendous success running as a champion of the labor movement. Despite rapidly declining unionization rates across much of the country, Massachusetts remains a seemingly eternal bastion of organized labor. One who is never afraid of making waves in interviews, and opinion pieces, you wrote in 1985 in a Boston Globe opinion piece Senator, saying that you would rather “rip your own heart out and throw it over the George Washington Bridge, than allow the Republicans to further dictate labor policy in this country.”

Audience and Donahue: (Laughs)

Donahue: Look, to be fair, I was coming off a 72 hour streak of debating actions regarding the Hormel Meat Packing strike with some senate colleagues. I was hellbent on taking action against any legislation that would empower Hormel to replace the striking workers, which as you can imagine was a quite unpopular opinion at the time in some circles. People obviously wanted Hormel workers to get back to work, as obviously its market share of the meat industry was simply massive. I felt that if my Democratic colleagues in the Senate didn’t take a stand, those hard working men and women would’ve been pressured to bend the knee by public opinion, and would’ve never gotten back to their previous pay levels.


Buckley: You’ve mentioned your anxiety over allowing replacement workers or scabs, as they are often referred to by members of the labor movement to replace union members during times of bargaining disputes. Surely you can agree that private enterprise should have the freedom to hire as they please, and that the individual rights of business owners should be protected at least some of the time? If the union members are fully intent on continuing the strike until each and every single demand is met, do you believe that there is some place for business owners to recognize the necessity of moving forward. with or without them?

Donahue:Well I think if we’re being intellectually honest here, we can all recognize the fact that there is rarely ever a negotiation where two sides are debating value, that ends in one side getting 100% of what they’re demanding. And that extends far beyond the labor movement, whether it be siblings disputing who is entitled to what percentage of property upon the death of a parent, or even one of us heading to a used car dealership to try and find a fantastic deal on a pickup truck. The salesman is going to try and keep pocket as much of the value of the truck as possible, and we’re going to try to axe as much of that same value as we can.

Buckley: Yes, except in that case, if you were to take over a year attempting to negotiate the best deal possible the dealer will have long since sold the truck to someone else.

Audience: (Laughs)

Donahue: Well of course that is what is bound to happen in reality, and union leadership as well as rank-and-file members are mostly well-aware of this fact. If you look at most every case, both sides have given up something relatively major by the end of the negotiation process. But I strongly believe that we as a country must put our foot down somewhere and say “no, we’re not going to allow the rich and powerful to do whatever they want 100% of the time.” For example, I’d wager most Americans agree that temporarily striking workers should not be replaced by scabs, just because some ultra profitable mega-corporation such as Hormel believes that endless production is more important than the people who, in many cases for 30+ years, made that very same never-ending production model possible time and time again.

Buckley: Obviously labor is important to any enterprise, however, and not to come across as overly disparaging here, but meat packing is a relatively mindless task. Nearly anyone with the proper training and necessary physical capabilities can perform this task. If a large company, such as Hormel can hire nearly anyone to perform such a task, and in the process save themselves a substantial sum in labor costs by replacing some of those who have not returned to work within a specified timeframe, shouldn’t they be allowed to do so?

Donahue: As I’ve said before, I don’t believe that American workers by-and-large believe that they should be treated worse than yesterday’s trash by a company that they have, in many cases poured their entire lives into. If I were to invite you into a game of chess, with clearly pre-defined rules, but then halfway through the match I just decided with no warning that we were going to play an entirely different type of game, with an entirely new set of rules, I would wager that you would most likely find yourself incredibly pissed off, and would refuse to corporate with the new terms of engagement. This is exactly what happened to those workers at Hormel that decided that the new rules were unacceptable, and demanded that the game be restored to the one that they had been engaged with originally.

Buckley: Spoken like a true Harvard graduate.

Audience and Donahue: (Laughs)

Buckley: Now, not to change the game rules on you halfway through or anything like that, but...

Audience and Donahue: (Laughs)

Buckley: But, uh, I’d like to change the topic briefly, while I have you here. Back on March 3rd, Los Ángeles motorist Rodney King was brutally beaten by Los Ángeles Police Department officers in the early morning hours after being pulled over under suspicion of intoxicated driving. You, along with Senator Scott Westman, and several members of the Congressional Black Caucus held a press conference back on March the 18th. You said several things in that press conference, which I at least, found interesting. You stated: “let me be perfectly clear, and speak slowly so that members of the media understand what I’m saying.”

Audience and Donahue: (Laughs)

Buckley: You offered sharp criticism of the Los Ángeles Police Department, but it seemed to most casual observers that you were also criticizing the media. You went on to say that “I don’t care if Rodney King had prior criminal convictions, or that he wrongly tried to resist arrest. None of that changes the fact that the actions committed by those officers were cowardly, draconian, and criminal, plain and simple.” Do you believe that the media often plays a role in so-called “victim blaming” in events such as this one?

Donahue: Obviously, the media plays an essential role in assisting our democracy to function, and allowing our citizens to stay informed and free. Proper, unbiased information has a direct correlation with the level of freedom enjoyed by citizens in any country. However, I do believe that in cases such as the Rodney King case, where you have a man who is a member of a historically marginalized culture within our country, you will often find members of the media making excuses as to why they are being marginalized. I also want to make it clear that I’m not suggesting that every single person involved with the media is to blame for this phenomenon, but we cannot just fall back and pretend that the phenomenon doesn’t exist, out of fear of drawing the irk of certain journalists.

Buckley: Allow me to ask you another question on the topic. Do you feel that the public is entitled to full disclosure on facts such as Rodney King’s criminal history in this case?

Donahue: I don’t believe there is necessarily anything wrong with providing context to Mr. King’s background or past transgressions, however, when we are hearing more about the mistakes he has committed in his life rather than the wrongs that have been perpetrated against him, I believe that is a grave mistake that ultimately helps no one discover the truth of the events of that night. The simple fact is, if Rodney King wasn’t brutally beaten on the side of a Los Ángeles highway on March 3rd, no one would know of his criminal history, as it was because of the tragedy that befell him, that the country as a whole has now heard of him in the first place.

Buckley: A few weeks ago when you and Senator Westman held your press conference regarding the beating, I made a point, on this show actually, that it seemed odd that Westman was so publicly and strongly siding with the African American community on this issue. I understand he holds some strong anti-government views, and has been outspoken about perceived abuses of power by police in the past, however I do wonder if perhaps there is an ulterior motive at place for Westman’s strong sudden stance with African American leaders. You serve with Westman in the United States Senate, and based on my understanding you know him better than most, and have referred to each other as friends in public speeches in the past. Do you believe that he may have his eyes on a Senate leadership post?

Donahue: I actually don’t believe that Westman’s stance was as unusual as some are making it out to be. Scott has always desired to hold the police in check for perceived abuse of power, but he also has a strong track record of standing with the black community on issues of importance. Sure, he may have been accused of being insensitive on certain occasions due to comments made, but that’s kind of his brand, and it’s not just the African American community that has perceived some of these comments as a slight against them. We all know some of the infamous comments he has made about wealthy White Anglo Saxon Protestants, for example.

Buckley: Yes, I’m well aware.

Audience: (Laughs)

Donahue: But, (laughing) But, I think when you actually look at his voting record on civil rights issues, as well as the many friendships he has forged with black leaders, this is clearly a man who is determined to fight for a more equal and just society for all Americans, not just the privileged few. If he is seeking a Senate leadership position, I would gladly support him, but I’m not sure that we can simply assume that is what he is doing based on taking a stand on an issue that I would argue he would’ve taken at any point during his political career. The reason Rodney King attracted such quick analysis from politicians and the public alike, is because it was captured so quickly and without censorship on video, something that wouldn’t have been possible for the average person to do 10 years, or 20 years ago, and I’d be willing to wager that as time goes on we will see more incidents such as this captured by ordinary citizens with access to new affordable technology.

[Sopranos Republican]

August 3, 1969

Vietnam

The Reunion


James Hardy was quickly rising through the ranks, demonstrating his worthiness as a capable intelligence gatherer. He was enjoying his new job, as well as the perks that came with it. For one, the food that him and his team of CIA officers, and Marine Corps infantry men enjoyed was of far higher quality than the slop that he had to endure back at camp. He strongly missed Jackie and his other friends like Jeff Wheeler, but he found the reconnoissance work to be far more enjoyable than anything that traditional combat had to offer. It was a cool, late summer evening at the makeshift CIA base he was now stationed at. He lay quietly in his bed, the bedside lamp still on, alternating between smoking a cigarette, reading a book about President Truman that his father had sent him the previous Christmas, and staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a growingly familiar face popped its way into his room. A man of average height and build, Special Agent Gary Schultz had become Hardy’s new immediate superior. Hardy and Schultz got along quite well, and Hardy preferred Schultz’ calm demeanor far more than then the behavior of the characters that commanded him in the Army. Schultz was the type of guy you’d meet at a barbecue who’d offer you a beer, even if you happened to still be in high school.

Schultz: Good evening, Corporal.

Hardy: Good evening, Agent Schultz.

Schultz: You doing anything particularly important right now?

Hardy: Only if you count being alone with my own thoughts, which I’d consider more scary than important.

Schultz: (Laughing) Well, if you don’t mind I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of the reconnaissance. He seems excited to meet you.

Suddenly from around the corner, came a man standing about 6 foot 2, of athletic build. However this face was already well known to Jimmy.

Jimmy: John!!

John: (Running towards Jimmy) You don’t think I’d let you have all the fun in f***in Vietnam did ya?

Jimmy: Agent Schultz?! John is the new recruit?!?!

Schultz: Well we figured good service should be rewarded. You’ve both shown tremendous leadership potential, so why not put you and your brother’s talents together, and figure out together what can be accomplished out here. I’ll leave you guys alone to catch up. If you need me, I’ll be in my quarters.

Jimmy was beyond ecstatic that his brother had been brought aboard the mission. It had been almost four years since John had been deployed to Vietnam, and as long since Jimmy had seen his brother in person. The two talked for hours, trading war stories and laughing at various hijinks performed by the cast of characters they had both grown to view as brothers in arms. They also laughed at the various letters they had received from home, mainly their father’s rants about how the old neighborhood was being overrun by “hippie f**ots.” Jimmy was refreshed by John’s boastful confidence, ensuring that they were going to easily survive the war, and would soon be back in Southie enjoying a pint with Johnny Flannigan. It was in Jimmy’s nature however, to always maintain a sense of caution when met with new-found optimism. His life to date had certainly not been an easy one, and whenever it seemed that things were going too well, a storm of unfortunate occurrences would take place, placing him back at square one.

Still, he couldn’t be happier that John was now with him. Jimmy’s older brother had always been a steady rock, a shoulder for the entire family to cry on when times were tough. Whenever their parents would separate for a few months, as had happened on several occasions over the years, John was always the one who would step up to the plate and help provide necessary income for his mother and two younger brothers. When he was 15 he worked a job at a local diner, cooking and washing dishes, in order to help his mother just barely make rent for the month. When he was 16 he worked as a construction worker in the days, and attended high school classes at night, in order to bolster the income when their father decided to move to California for 6 months. John’s big break came when he turned 18 and his father sponsored him for a job in the Ironworkers’ Union. However, John’s days of making real money was abruptly put on hold when he got drafted to serve in Vietnam in late 1965.

At this point in time, John was becoming increasingly bitter towards the entire war. He had been in Vietnam for nearly four years in 1969, and felt that containing communism was nothing more than a political pipe dream. He had heard ever increasing stories of rich families having their children exempted from military service, which in turn further bolstered his resentment. John looked forward to December as it would mark four years of service in Vietnam, meaning that he would be eligible to leave the military. He promised Jimmy that come December he would leave and do everything in his power to get Jimmy out as well. He also confided in Jimmy that he planned on joining the anti-war protests, in an attempt to help influence an end to the conflict. At this point in time however, he knew that only one thing was certain. December was a long ways off, and he could presently only do his best to survive to see the next dawn.

[Sopranos Republican]

May 3, 1991

Arlington, Virginia

Members Only


The sounds of teeing off dominated the air on a warm spring afternoon in Northern Virginia. Present were some of Washington’s finest, engaged in a friendly outing of golf. For Senator Ted Kennedy, golf was a pastime that he cherished more with each passing year. For Governor Hardy, who was invited by his friend Senator Donahue on the outing this day, golfing was never a game that he had been quite fond of, as it conjured up memories of his father yelling at him about how egregiously horrible his form was. Senator Joe Biden could certainly play, and was excited to have the opportunity to do so, with some of his closest Washington colleagues.

Senator Matthew Donahue really didn’t care if the game was chess, full contact football, horseshoes, ice hockey, or golf. He was driven by an insatiably competitive spirit that would force him to practice until he was able to defeat anyone who challenged him to a game. Senator Scott Westman thought that golf was about the worst goddamn thing ever invented by man. He felt that it was an elitist sport where bloodthirsty war hawks and corporate officers would meet and decide how the next conquered continent would be distributed. Ironically enough, Westman’s golfing skills were serviceable and he would sometimes win matches when he played with the aforementioned crowd. It was for this reason that despite his hatred of the game itself, Westman would often tag along on these field trips to the Washington Golf & Country Club. He certainly wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to laugh at Senator Donahue for hooking a shot and subsequently smashing his club.

Westman: You gonna take the shot or what motherf***er? It’s my turn next and when I sink this next shot the rest of you clowns are gonna be in for it.

Donahue: Don’t rush me, I didn’t rush you when you stopped to talk to that clearly married bimbo at the last hole.

Kennedy: Yeah, I saw that too.

Westman: Oh come on. All you pervs were looking at that too. I was the only one with the balls to talk to her.

Hardy: Yeah, except that your balls were in your own mouth when you tried to talk!

Biden: OOOOOHHH!!

Westman: F**k you Jimmy! At least I know how to use my golf club properly!

Kennedy: As long as you’re married to my niece, I don’t want to hear about your “golf club.”

Westman: Oh no Teddy. I was talking about my actual golf club. Because Jimmy has only sunk one shot. I certainly wouldn’t use this time to talk about my HUGE IRISH D—

Kennedy: Okay Okay! Jesus Christ I get it!

Biden: You guys need to stop hitting the goddamn flask so much when we come out here to play. I swear, the conversations get grosser by the sip!

Donahue: If I don’t drink while I do this, I’ll pay too much attention to Scott’s distractions while I try to shoot my shot.

Westman: Trust me. You f**k up shooting your shot plenty on your own without me distracting you.

Biden: OOOOOOHHHH!!

Just then, Donahue snapped a long range shot to within a few inches of making a hole in one.

Donahue: (Smirking) Well then. Maybe I should start bringing you with me, whenever I’m attempting to shoot my shot.

Westman: Whatever. As long as I don’t go full blown retard on the last hole, I’m still easily winning this thing.

Hardy: I hope you win, Scott. Matt’s sportsmanship today has left much to be desired!

Donahue: Oh yeah? I felt like I’ve shown great dignity and class today, as compared to my usual competitive behavior.

Biden: Your first golf club that you threw into the pond suggests otherwise.

Donahue: Well Joe, of course you’d say that! You don’t drink.

Kennedy: Who needs a flask refill?

Donahue: Oh yeah I’ll take one.

Hardy: Same here.

Westman: I suppose another flask is in order for when I bury the winning shot!

The men continued on for about 30 more minutes before Westman eventually buried the game clinching shot. Westman ensured that he sufficiently rubbed it into all of his colleagues, particularly Senator Donahue. Donahue resounded by throwing his second driver club of the day into the aforementioned pond, while Joe Biden threw his face firmly into the palm of his hand. The group agreed to head back to Senator Westman’s apartment for an after party of sorts. Senator Biden, being the only sober man among the group, agreed to drive them back.

Kennedy: You still got those fancy beers in the fridge, Scott?

Westman: Oh yeah, you know it. Grab us each one. Joe would you like a Juicy Juice pouch?

Biden: Man f**k you. I’ll take a bottle of water, Ted.

Hardy: Oh man, I’m pretty hungry guys.

Westman: Oh yeah don’t worry guys, I already got Domino’s on the way.

Kennedy: Oh good. I’m pretty famished myself.

Donahue: Nice!

Biden: Can’t go wrong with quality pizzas!

Westman: I figured we could eat the pizza and I’ll put on a Bruce Lee movie or something.

The men sat in front of the TV for hours, laughing, talking sh*t about the Republicans, drinking, and eating. It was during this time that Senator Donahue decided to talk some about necessary strategy.

Donahue: So, Teddy. I gotta ask, what’s your opinion of Joe Moakley.

Kennedy: Joe’s a great friend of mine. Why do you ask?

Donahue: (Sighing) I feel horrible in saying this because the man has served as a mentor to me in the past, but, are you concerned with his recent inactivity at all?

Kennedy: I was afraid that you were going there. I’ve been talking to him, and he is leaning towards retirement at this point in time. I was going to gently steer him that way, but it appears I thankfully won’t have to.

Donahue: Any names in mind for a potential replacement?

Kennedy: Just a couple of state senators. I also thought perhaps Jimmy might be a good choice for the job.

Hardy: I’m not interested in congress honestly. No offense

Donahue: I actually had a candidate in mind for the job, and was hoping to get your backing. Are you familiar with Nick Soltano, the Mayor of Brockton?

Kennedy: I met him once, I’m not too well acquainted.

Donahue: I can arrange a meeting between the two of you, if you’d like to meet him before issuing an opinion.

Kennedy: I suppose it couldn’t hurt too much. I trust your judgment but don’t want to simply issue a blind endorsement with no prior knowledge of an individual.

Donahue: Well then. As soon as time allows we will ensure that the meeting takes place.

[Sopranos Republican]

September 1, 1969

Vietnam

My Brother’s Keeper




It was a late night mission for James Hardy, his brother John, and Agent Schultz. Sneaking through the woods came with a feeling of ever persistent anxiety for Jimmy. His brother John, who was by his side for the mission, was a seasoned military man by this point in time, and found that worrying about the future, as he had done often early during his service in Vietnam, was producing far more negative effects than positive ones. Jimmy was becoming calmer overall in these days since he and his brother had been reunited, but he found that these stealth missions gave him greater anxiety than he had ever felt even during the most brutal days of combat. Combat certainly came with anxiety, but the rush of adrenaline was so great, that often times the anxiety had been almost completely drowned out by the intensity of the moment. Combat didn’t allow the time for anxiety. Those who became overwhelmed with anxiety were far more likely to be killed in action, than those who moved with a sense of urgency. Stealth missions on the other hand, often allowed ample time for crippling anxiety to set in for men like Jimmy who worried that they’d never make it out of Vietnam. John Hardy on the other hand, was incredibly confident that they’d both make it home safely at the end of their tours of duty. John’s military commitment was expiring in three months, and he had no desire to renew. John promised Jimmy that after he left Vietnam he’d make it his life’s goal to convince Washington to end the war, and bring Jimmy home in the quickest manner possible.

Agent Schultz himself knew that the war was likely about to move towards a more air-based approach once the reconnaissance had gathered the required intel on enemy positions, and believed that he’d be back in Langley once this occurred. As the men walked discreetly through the woods around the trail they began to engage in quiet conversation.



John: What the f**k are we even looking for out here?

Schultz: We believe that a major Viet Cong base is nearby according to what the Air Force has told us. If we find it we’re going to give them the exact coordinates and let them carpet bomb the f**k out of it.

Jimmy: What if they catch us before our support is able to arrive?

Schultz: Then we do what God put us on this Earth to do. Fight like hell until they are able to reach us.

John: (Laughing) God put us on the Earth to do this sh*t? Man you really are a sucker for that Cross, Flag and Eagle bullsh*t.

Schultz: Oh man come on, what are you now some kinda hippy do nothing war protester? I’ve seen you in action John, you’re a better man than that.

John: I’m no hippy Schultz, but I do sincerely wonder what the f**k we’re doing here sometimes.

Jimmy: What are those lights up ahead there?

Schultz: Let me see those binoculars. Oh yeah, that’s our target boys!


Off in the distance, the men saw what appeared to be a large complex, with heavy Viet Cong patrol activity. Troops moved in and out, carrying large crates, weapons and sacks, placing these items into the backs of trucks. The base was well lit, allowing the three men to see much of the activity occurring at the base, with the aid of their binoculars.

Schultz: C’mon. Let’s get up a bit closer to the edge of the woods. That way we’ll be able to see everything that they’re doing.

John: Aye, Aye, Captain.


The men advanced their position to the edge of the woods, right outside the Viet Cong complex, shutting off all light sources as they approached. They crouched behind a bush, and prayed that the darkness would be enough to conceal them. As they scanned the perimeter, Hardy realized that they were only several feet away from the enemy. His heart was racing, his head clouded with thoughts of a pessimistic outcome. They were vastly outnumbered, and if they were caught they’d almost certainly be executed.

Schultz: (Whispering) Okay, I’m going to move back there and radio in our position. We need to hope that they show up quickly.

Jimmy: I have faith they will.

Schultz: Magnolia, this is Chevy 5-2, we’re about 10 clicks to the Northeast from base. We’re directly outside the Dragon’s Lair.

Magnolia: Chevy 5-2, this Magnolia, we’re moving to your location. Standby for further information.

Schultz: Aye Aye.

John: (Whispering)  So what do we now? Just pray to God they don’t spot us?

Schultz: Pretty much, that’s the best plan we got.

Jimmy: Well I guess you’re right about that.


Several minutes passed, in what seemed like an eternity to the trio. They wished they could at least pass the time by making conversation, but refrained due to the close proximity of the enemy. They all knew that if they were spotted it meant their demise. After a couple of minutes, their worst fear was realized when a Viet Cong soldier began approaching the tree line. The three men laid in the ground behind the bush as he approached. At first they believed that they had been made out by the soldier, and Jimmy drew his revolver pistol, ready for firing if it indeed became necessary. However, to their relief the soldier began relieving himself directly behind the bush that they were using for cover. All three were less than thrilled to be covered in Viet Cong piss, but were just content that they weren’t currently being shot at. Unfortunately for all three of them, Schultz happened to flinch when some of the piss began dripping down his nose, causing the bush to seemingly flinch as well. The three men became completely still at this moment, fearing that Shultz had potentially given them away.



Viet Cong Soldier: (Shouting) Đèn xanh! Đèn xanh!

John: Sh*t! Sh*t!!


Suddenly, the soldier began running back from the tree line towards the complex. Both the Hardy brothers and Shultz realized that their position had been compromised. They were on their feet ready to fight, when suddenly, a C4 explosive detonated on a nearby tree, causing the tree to begin free falling towards the trio. Schultz was nearly crushed before the Hardy brothers fortunately shoved him to the ground behind him, allowing him to escape within an inch of his life. The brothers however, were not so fortunate, as they had fallen to the ground for cover after rescuing Agent Schultz. The tree landed across both sets of the Hardy brothers’ legs, leaving them trapped in their position with broken legs.

John: F**K F**K!!!

Jimmy: JESUS PLEASE!! SAVE US!!


Jimmy’s prayers were answered almost instantly when he noticed the fleet of helicopters from back at base that were airborne directly above them.

Schultz: Magnolia this is Chevy 5-2, we have two of our brothers trapped beneath a tree and there is no way they can escape without immediate assistance, can you send down a chopper?

Magnolia: Chevy 5-2, this is magnolia, we are having difficulty making out your location, do you have a flare available?

Schultz sent a flare to inform the chopper of their location, allowing one of them to dive to ground level while the rest of the fleet laid waste to the compound. It was a welcome sight to the pinned down trio, as if the support had arrived even a minute later it is likely that they all would’ve been neutralized quickly. Suddenly however, in the mayhem that was unfolding, a frag grenade landed near John Hardy’s torso. The two brothers were only about 6-8 feet apart, and the grenade would kill both of them. Due to their current circumstance of both being trapped beneath the tree, only John could reach the grenade, albeit just barely. In an act of courage and ultimate sacrifice that seemed to occur in slow motion, John was able to turn his body enough to land with his stomach atop the grenade.

John: Just promise me you’ll end this f***in war Jimmy!


Before Jimmy even had time to say anything in response to his brother, the rock who had supported him and his family through thick and thin, a great man that Jimmy held in higher regard than their own father, John’s entire being was seemingly evaporated into thin air in an explosion that would only ever be remembered by those who witnessed the final sacrificial act of one of the bravest men who had ever walked the face of the Earth. All Jimmy could do was weep. Weep for his mother, for his father, for all of the friends that him and his older brother had shared back in Boston.

He certainly wasn’t going to weep for himself, for he knew that his own time was certainly about to end as well. In an act of fate however, he watched as the Viet Cong complex was entirely overwhelmed by the might of the United States Air Force. The Vietnamese were quickly retreating, allowing for the chopper to come down. All he could do is watch as 3 men couldn’t move the entire tree and had to call in more men. It took 15 men to move the tree the few inches required to evacuate Jimmy, and the remains of his dear brother John. Everything was silent to Jimmy despite the massive amount of noise generated by the ongoing explosions and gunfire. Life itself froze in those fateful moments as Jimmy and the body of John Hardy were removed from the scene and loaded onto the chopper.

On board the chopper was Jackie Armstrong, who hugged Jimmy as only a brother could. Jimmy couldn’t even make out Jackie’s words, all Jimmy could do was weep uncontrollably into the shoulder of the only man he knew that could even remotely compare to the greatness of his dearly departed brother John Hardy. Jimmy’s legs were completely useless at this moment and he didn’t even care. He’d have been fine if his legs had been completely blown off if it meant that his brother could’ve survived the mission. Behind Jackie, he could see the badly tarnished body of his brother being loaded into a black bag by the on-board medic. It was at this moment that he began to drift out of consciousness. The grief was far too much to bear, especially when combined with his own horrific current condition. This was it, the last act of an incredible man who had put Jimmy’s entire family on his back several times over the course of Jimmy’s tumultuous childhood. There would be no new chapter in the book on John’s life. The tale tragically ended in the middle with no explanation given, and the only person who could even begin to describe the ending was James Michael Hardy, whose family was the latest to be broken at the altar of the Vietnam War.

[Sopranos Republican]

November 21, 1969

Washington, D.C.

Bleeding Heart

Blowin in the Wind - Bob Dylan



It had been nearly three months since James Michael Hardy had returned home from Vietnam, and yet in many ways it felt like he had never left. The events of the night of September 1 still replayed daily in his mind. He was being hailed unanimously as a hero of the war, and yet he himself felt like anything but. In his mind it was John who deserved the glorious return home, filled with teary-eyed embraces, free dinners, and universal praise. If it were not for his brother John, Jimmy would not still be on this earth. Jimmy angrily questioned God regularly during these solemn days: “Why the f**k couldn’t I have been the one to save him?” In many ways he wondered what kind of life he was allowed to continue living. He was still wheelchair bound from the battle, unsure if he would ever see the day where he’d be able to walk again. A tear ran down his cheek as early on this fall morning, he again briefly thought of his selfless brother. “Why isn’t he here with me to celebrate this moment?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted by his brother Peter. Peter was the middle child of the Hardy clan. An intellectual who was attending Boston College, Peter had been exempted from the draft due to a lifelong battle with asthma, as well as heart conditions that prohibited him from overly strenuous physical activity. Peter was the quietest of the three brothers. John was loud, boisterous, and charismatic, and while Jimmy didn’t necessarily dominate a room as quickly as John, he was certainly more outspoken than the timid Peter. Still though, while Peter was known by friends and family as a man of few words, when he did choose to speak, he always seemed to know just what to say.


Peter: Well, it’s the big day. How are you feeling, Jimmy?

Jimmy: Like a guy who just won the lottery, and lost the f**king ticket in the wind.

Peter: I know man. I really miss him too.

Jimmy: It’s just the image, Pete. He told me to end the war. And that was it. He f***ing exploded. He was gone. (Lights up cigarette and gazes out the window, as a tear runs down his cheek) How the f**k can I end the f***ing war? I’m a goddamn motherf***ing cripple!

Peter: Dad says we’re going to get you the best physical therapy in the area. Whatever it takes!

Jimmy: And how in the hell are we supposed to afford that? We can’t even afford to stay in the same goddamn house for more than a year!

Peter: As soon as I graduate, I’m going to get a good paying job. I’ll help in whatever way I can.

Jimmy: You don’t have to do that, Pete. I want you to save your money. Spending it on this probably won’t work anyways. And even if it does I don’t want you struggling on my behalf.

Peter: Just let me do this for you. I already feel horrible enough that you and John went to Vietnam, and I stayed here.

Jimmy: Don’t talk like that Pete! They wouldn’t have let you serve anyways, with your condition.

Peter: I know, but, you don’t know how useless I felt during these last few years. Especially after you left, I felt like a complete failure.

Jimmy: There’s no shame in being born with an ailment. That’s entirely up to  The Almighty, and completely out of your control.

Peter: Well either way goddamnit, I’m going to help you. Speaking of which, it's time I helped you get dressed into your suit.

Jimmy: Ugh, why the f**k do I gotta wear this sh*t?

Peter: You’re being awarded by the most powerful man in the world. Do you really think we can just bust in there like Triple Threat Tommy drunkenly busts into the South Street Diner at 3:00 AM, wearing nothing but a bandana and those blue shorts that he never bothers to wash?

Jimmy: (Grinning) If the president ever met Triple Threat Tommy he’d demand that Massachusetts secede from the union at once!

Peter: Exactly, and I don’t think any of us can afford that right now, so c’mon I’m going to get you dressed.


Secret Service Agent: (Knocks on door) Gentlemen, the President will be ready for you in about 30 minutes.

Despite Jimmy’s current state of mind it was an inarguably tremendous scene at The White House on this November afternoon. Peter wheeled Jimmy into the room where many familiar faces began applauding as his presence captivated the attention of the room. Both of his parents were present, as well as Johnny Flannigan, his uncle Bobby, aunt Jen, his cousins Mikey and Joey, and his dear grandmother Rhoda, herself confined to a wheelchair. He was amazed that even his close friends from Southie, Eric “The Red” Carrey, and Triple Threat Tommy had been invited to attend the ceremony. It had been years since he had seen Triple Threat Tommy. “Boy oh boy, has he gained weight!” Jimmy smirked to himself. Eric was wearing his traditional attire: a flannel shirt coupled with the bluest jeans available at Jordan Marsh. Triple Threat Tommy was wearing a ketchup-stained peace sign t-shirt that was at least two sizes two small, paired with a black insulated work vest, and his signature blue basketball shorts, despite it being a 33 degree day in November.

Senator Ted Kennedy, himself a personal friend of Johnny Flannigan’s was also in attendance, and invited Jimmy’s entire entourage out for a fancy dinner to take place after the conclusion of the ceremony. Jimmy found himself in slightly higher spirits than he had been as of late, but still couldn’t help but shed tears over the fact that his dearly departed brother John was not around to receive his award as well. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, the President of the United States, Richard Nixon, entered the room.

Nixon: Good afternoon everyone, please be seated! I’d like to begin by thanking you all for attending today’s ceremony. There are times when the service of individuals in our armed forces is so particularly extraordinary that it stands to reason that they must be recognized. When I first was informed of the catastrophic tragedy that befell the Hardy family, I was incredibly heartbroken. The Bible tells us in the Book of John, Chapter 15 Verse 13: Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.

Jimmy and Peter both began to weep heavily after hearing the President’s quotation of the Bible in reference to their brother. Jimmy noticed that his mother was also weeping uncontrollably, and that even his normally stoic, unflappable father had tears running down his face.

Nixon: That is the lesson that John Hardy taught us during his life of leadership by example. John was born in South Boston, Massachusetts on August 25th, 1945. At every single turn, he exemplified selflessness and leadership above all us. Sacrifice for his family and his country. Bravery in both his personal life and military service. When him and his brother Jimmy, along with one of our esteemed agents were assuredly going to perish from the explosion of a grenade that was thrown in between John and Jimmy’s position, John decided that he would make the ultimate sacrifice, and allow his brother and the agent present to live to see another day. John laid down on the grenade, allowing it to fearlessly tear through his own being, rather than to see his brother and others be killed with him. That it is why, I am posthumously awarding the Purple Heart, with distinction, to John Hardy. Accepting the award on his behalf, are his parents: Michael and Elizabeth Hardy.

Audience: (Applauds)

At this moment Jimmy’s parents walked towards the podium where the president was speaking, and President Nixon handed the award to Jimmy’s father, who notably had tears running down his face. Jimmy’s mother was also extremely saddened as she hugged President Nixon. Jimmy’s father gave the President a firm handshake as Mr. Nixon patted him on the back.

Nixon: There is also another man who deserves recognition today who is in attendance. James Michael Hardy was also present when his beloved brother John was killed in action. Leading up to the moment of John’s ultimate sacrifice, Jimmy and John sacrificed their own bodies in order to save the life of the third member of their mission, who would’ve certainly been killed if not for the decisive action of John and Jimmy. An explosive detonated on a nearby tree, which caused the tree to collapse, and if not for John and Jimmy pushing the Agent to the ground as the tree was falling, he would’ve been killed as well that night.

As a result of their heroic action to save the agent, the tree ended up crushing both of their legs, wounding Jimmy, and tragically, led to John’s death that night, at the hands of the enemy’s grenade. That is why I am awarding a second Purple Heart today, with distinction, to James Michael Hardy!

Audience: (Applauds)

Triple Threat Tommy: (From the back of the room) We love you Jimmy!!

As the President walked over to pin the medal on Jimmy’s suit, all that was visible from the perspectives of Peter Hardy, Eric “The Red,” Triple Threat Tommy, Elizabeth Hardy, and Johnny Flannigan, was the face of James Michael Hardy, who at this point was devoid of any emotion, except for the many tears dripping down his cheeks. It was abundantly clear to all those in attendance that day, particularly his old friends who had just 18 months before seen this same kid so full of life, that a severe onset of depression had occurred. If there was a particular snapshot that could perhaps best define the entire Vietnam era, it may have been a close up of James Michael Hardy, on that afternoon of November the twenty-first, 1969.

[Sopranos Republican]

June 15, 1991

Peabody, Massachusetts

A Road Soda for the Boys



LL Cool J - I’m Bad

It was a beautiful warm night in Massachusetts. Summer was finally here, and with it came the type of debauchery that Senator Donahue and his compadrés had been missing. Present was Matthew Donahue, adorned in a brand new black pinstripe suit, with a scaly cap on his head to complete. He was feeling quite confident about the night ahead. Scott Westman decided to accept Donahue’s invitation for a weekend getaway to New England, as he had not been since St. Patrick’s Day, and him and Matt planned on going deep-sea fishing off of the coast of Hyannis on Cape Cod the following afternoon.

Also there was Jimmy Hardy, who didn’t have much else to do as he had already signed legislation for the week and was in the mood for a break. Luckily for him, this outing would provide just the opportunity. Senator Joe Watson of Pennsylvania was also present, deciding to take up Senator Donahue’s invitation for some weekend shenanigans. Finally rounding out the rotation was the Mayor of Brockton Nick Soltano, never one to turn down an evening out with his good friends Donahue and Jimmy Hardy. The boys had just indulged in enough alcohol to sterilize an entire restaurant, back at Johnny Flannigan’s pub in South Boston, and hopped into Senator Donahue’s BMW M5 German sports car, to head North to Peabody for a night at the Golden Banana strip club. Donahue drove the full capacity car up I-93 at a furious pace, making conversation with his friends in the car on the drive.

Donahue: God-f****ing-Damnit! GET THE F**K OUT OF THE FAST LANE YOU KNOBGOBBLAH!!

Watson: Jesus Christ, Matt! Do you always drive like this?

Donahue: Listen Joey, my father taught me to always drive like a man. Which is what I intend on doing until the day I die.

Hardy: Yeah, which will probably be tonight the way you’re going!

Donahue: Well excuse me, Mr. Goveahnah of the commonwealth!

Donahue’s strong Boston accent always came out even stronger after he had a few adult beverages, as did Hardy’s.

Donahue: Maybe next time you can f***in drive us! If you ever get your goddamn license renewed that is!

Hardy: I’ll have you know that you’re being rude amongst friends, and I strongly do not appreciate it!

Donahue: Well well well. Maybe I wouldn’t be so rude if some people remembered to tip the bartender back at Flannigan’s!

Hardy: Bro, I told you I was taking a huge sh*t, when I see Johnny in a couple of days I’ll give him some tip money, it’ll all be good!

Donahue: I just feel bad, he seemed pretty pissed last time we came by and left abruptly without tipping, I mean I paid the check the last 6 times we were there. When the hell are you gonna tip?

Hardy: Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. Washington hotshot, I guess some of us just…

Westman: (Interrupting) Jesus F. Christ you guys! Shut the F**K UP!! I came up here to have a good time, not to listen to two eighth grade chicks get into an argument about who’s going to date the new star quarterback of the football team!

Soltano: Yeah C’mon guys, what are you bickering about? We’re gonna go get some more drinks, get some lap dances from some hot women, possibly get our d*cks sucked, gonna be a great time!

Watson: Hey, I’m having a pretty good time so far. I’m completely smashed right now, and listening to this is entertaining as hell! (Laughs)

Donahue: Nah, you’re right Scott. Sorry, Jimmy!

Hardy: I’m sorry too!

Donahue: Well, actually I meant to bring this up earlier, but Nick I got some good news.

Soltano: Oh?

Donahue: Teddy Kennedy talked to Joe Moakley the other day, Joe’s not going to run for reelection next year. You’re golden for that seat!

Soltano: Holy sh*t! Really?!

Donahue: Yeah man, we’re good to go!

Westman: Alright! I say this calls for a toast!

Westman pulled a 12 pack of Guinness from underneath the passenger’s seat and began passing beers around the vehicle.

Watson: Damn guys. Should we be doing this in a moving vehicle?

Donahue: Don’t worry, Joe. I grew up with half of the staties around here. Nothing’s gonna happen to us. Oh sh*t I love this song!

Just then Senator Donahue, turned up the radio, which was playing LL Cool J’s hit song “I’m Bad.”

Soltano: Oh hell yeah! This track is awesome!

Westman: What in hell is this?

Donahue: It’s called Hip Hop. Why, are you Montanans allergic to it or something?

Westman: I’m not gonna say it’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard. But I’m also going to say it’s not the best thing I’ve ever heard.

Hardy: It’s okay, I wasn’t a fan at first either, but you know what, when you live in Boston you end up hearing it enough on the streets that you get used to it.

Donahue: Oh yeah! Here we are!

Donahue pulled into the Golden Banana parking lot and parked behind the building, far away from any other vehicles.

Donahue: Alright you guys wait right here for a minute, I’m waiting for a friend, I’m gonna go give him a call real quick.

At that point Donahue exited his car and walked across the parking lot over to a phone booth on the far end of the parking lot, put his change in the slot and dialed a number.

Westman: Who the hell is he calling, and why is he using a payphone? He has that fancy mobile phone he’s always bragging about!

Hardy: Oh, I think I know. If I’m correct then we’re about to turn a good night into a great night.

Donahue returned to the vehicle and sat back in the driver’s seat. At this point The Cult’s Fire Woman came on the radio, and he decided to turn it up.

The Cult - Fire Woman

Donahue: Oh hell yeah! Damn good tune! Let’s just wait out here for about 10 minutes.

Watson: What are we waiting for? We’re already here aren’t we?

Donahue: Just trust me on this one, alright?

Soltano: Oh sh*t! Matty boy’s making some calls! This is how the big dogs do it! (High Fives Donahue)

Suddenly about 5 or so minutes later, a large, white cargo van came screeching into the parking lot of the Golden Banana, and parked right next to Senator Donahue’s Beamer. A jacked Mexican man came out of the driver’s seat and proceeded to Senator Donahue’s driver side window. Donahue pulled out a crisp, brand new $100 bill and handed it to the man. The man retreated into the back seat of his cargo van, and pulled out two bags: one large bag of marijuana, and another smaller back of some of the North shore’s finest nose candy.

Pedro: Here you go Matty boy, I got you the good sh*t, always remember ol Pedro hooks you up, Amigo!

Donahue: God bless ya, Pedro! I’ll see you soon brother!

Pedro: Gracias, Gracias!

Pedro quickly hopped back into the driver’s seat of the cargo van and screeched off down the road, driving like a man who had another stop to quickly make.

Watson: WHAT IN THE F**K was THAT?!

Westman: Wait a minute, so let me get this straight, you’ve got a dude who you call, and he delivers you drugs THAT QUICKLY?! This is a game changer, holy sh*t, I need to get me one of those!

Donahue wasted no time in rolling a joint for himself and the boys before they proceeded into the strip club.

Donahue: Alright, let’s just smoke this for now. We’ll save the good stuff for later.

After each of the five weekend warriors finished smoking the joint, they processed to gleefully waltz into the strip club. As they made it through security one of the strippers immediately recognized Nick Soltano, and excitedly ran towards him.

Destiny: OH MY GOD! NICK!! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?!

Soltano: I’ve been good, baby! How you doin’, huh?

Destiny: Hang on, I’m going up on stage next, I’ll come sit with you guys after I’m done, I’ll bring some of my friends for your’s, okay?

Soltano: Sounds like a plan!

Watson: Wait a minute, do you know her outside of this place? Or are you just a regular here?

Soltano: I’ve had an on and off fling with her for the past year and a half. That’s how the big dogs do it! (Again high-fiving Donahue after saying this)

Hardy: Ick, this place is gross, I’m going to the bar to get a Jack & Coke.

Westman: Oh man, what a hot piece of ass! And she said she’s bringing her friends back?

Donahue: Oh yeah man, she always hooks us up extremely well when we come here, if you catch my drift! (High-fives Soltano)

Destiny proceeded to do her dance, which captivated the nearly unanimously male audience. She was objectively the most talented dancer employed at the establishment. When she was done, she made good on her promise to bring back friends for the rowdy team of five testosterone fueled politicians that had entered the premises. After about two hours had passed, Donahue informed the party that he had several free rooms that he had gotten from his friend that worked at a nearby hotel. The boys jumped into Matt’s BMW, and the girls all jumped into a blacked out Chevy Suburban. The girls followed the team of five back to the local Marriott hotel. When they arrived in the lobby Donahue fist bumped an African-American man working behind the counter.

Donahue: Nate Dog! How’s it going man!

Griffin: Yo what’s up man, how you guys doing? I got 3 rooms available, one of them is mine but I’m fine with sharing as long as you’re willing to share what you’ve got.

Donahue: Oh don’t worry man, I brought an extra if you catch my drift!

Griffin: Alright now we’re talking! F**k this sh*t I’m coming upstairs now!

Watson: Uhh, before we go any further, I’m probably not going to engage in any “activities” tonight with these girls. Ya know, I’m really trying to be a good husband and I don’t think it’d be appropriate for me to go any further with this. You guys have fun, I’ll be up later to crash eventually, I think there’s a pub next door, I’m probably gonna go have a couple drinks.

Hardy: (looking annoyed) Oh that’s fine! I guess that means more for me, hahaha.

Watson ended up going for a walk, while Hardy ended up taking two of the girls to their room for a drunken sex romp. The girls were amazed by the stamina that Hardy possessed, they wondered if he was even interested, as at one point when one of them were riding him they noticed that he had a completely straight face. Like the kind of face that a man has when he just got told that the $600 car repair is now going to cost $800. Soltano and Westman shared one of the rooms, and high-fived each other during the “exchange.” Donahue and Nate Griffin shared another one of the rooms, and even went as far as “finishing off” one girl, taking a smoke break, and then trading partners on the second run. Donahue gave each of his crew a small bag of cocaine, to help further celebrate the night. Donahue and Griffin decided to do several lines off the backside of one of the strippers, in further celebration of this indulgent night of debauchery.

[Sopranos Republican]

June 21, 1991

South Boston, Massachusetts

Malpractice Suit





The entourage looked at each other with eyes full of mischief and intent. They alone knew what was about to go down. The men present had been through the ringer quite a few times with each other. There wasn’t any doubt amongst the men that the others were capable of the mission ahead.


O’Connell: Goddamn, where did you get these sh*ts?

Triple Threat Tommy: They belong to Mr. Flannigan, he’s aware of the plan and approves!

O’Connell: Well, Flannigan certainly has fine taste!

The gang were beholden by the site of the luxurious cars that were before them. Two of the men decided to dive behind the wheel of each vehicle, taking special care not to spill any beverages or grease onto the fine leather seating. One of the vehicles was an Audi S4 sports car, and the other was a Ferrari.

Triple Threat Tommy: Now guys, make sure you don’t f**k this up. These cars f***in screw. The goal is to execute the plan, not to get ourselves killed, if your foot is too heavy, we’ll all die.

O’Connell: Settle down Tommy, this ain’t my force rodeo.

Triple Threat Tommy: Well then, roger that cowboy.

About twenty minutes passed, as the crew raced through the Savin Hill neighborhood and made their way towards the rotary at Columbia Road, near the UMass Boston campus and Carson Beach. Tommy drove the Ferrari while Rich O'Connell drove a couple of car links behind him in the Audi. As they entered the rotary, Rich sped past a school bus full of children and smashed the car directly into the back bumper of the Ferrari, forcing it into a grass median nearby.

Triple Threat Tommy: (Exiting Car) What the f**k is wrong with you driving like that?

O’Connell: Well maybe if you didn’t drive like a grandma, I wouldn’t have f***in smashed into you. Haven’t you ever heard of keeping up with the flow of traffic?

Triple Threat Tommy: Well maybe I can’t teach you to drive, but I can certainly teach you some manners!!

At that moment, the two men began to fight passionately, bringing their scuffle onto the ground. The driver of a minivan which was occupied by a family of tourists from Texas quickly decided to use a nearby payphone to call the police. Within 5 minutes, Massachusetts State Troopers from the nearby South Boston precinct arrived on the scene, and began questioning the two men as to what had just happened.

Trooper: So you were just driving normally and his car smashed into yours?

Triple Threat Tommy: Yes officer, and I think I need medical att—— (falling to the ground)

Trooper: (Radioing the EMT) I need medical attention over here! I’m near the I-93 exit at Columbia Road.

Dispatcher: Roger that, medical personnel are being dispatched to your location.

O’Connell: Well officer, maybe I wouldn’t have slammed into him if——— (falling to the ground)

Trooper: Dispatch, I’m going to need a second ambulance over here, ASAP!


After an hour or two had passed, Triple Threat Tommy awoke in an emergency room bed at Massachusetts General Hospital. He was slightly injured from the accident that he had just been involved with, but the actual extent of his injuries was of little concern to him. He began to think of the satisfaction that his endeavors brought to him on a personal level. Sure, the money was good, but there was an element of thrill that any of his previous 9-5 occupations sorely lacked that these types of missions unconditionally brought to him. While thinking of the best manner in which to proceed form here, his thoughts were interrupted by the nurse entering his room. Triple Threat Tommy had a particular affinity for redheads and large breasts, and the nurse that was assigned to care for him checked all of his boxes.


Nurse Teller: Good afternoon, (checking the ID that was provided at the desk) Mr. Fletcher Winston?

Triple Threat Tommy: Yes, m’am, that’s me!

Nurse Teller: That was some accident! How are you feeling?

Triple Threat Tommy: Oh man, if you’re going to be taking care of me, I’m going to be getting into more wrecks!

Nurse Teller: (Laughing) Oh well, we certainly don’t need to be encouraging that. It appears that you have some slight bruising in your forehead from hitting the steering wheel so hard. We’re gonna take you down to get some X-rays done, in order to make a decision on the best course of treatment from here.

Triple Threat Tommy: Say no more nurse, I will follow you to the gates of hell if need be. If you don’t mind, would it be alright if I put my pants on for this? I feel a bit self-conscious, wandering around the hospital in this porn gown you’ve got me in!

Nurse Teller: (Laughing) Well, we may need you to remove a layer once you get done there, but you can put your pants on for now.

Triple Threat Tommy: Awesome! Don’t take it personal, hun, I’ve got no problem being without pants around you! I just don’t wanna advertise the merchandise to everyone, if you catch my drift.

Nurse Teller: Of course.


As with most actions taken by Triple Threat Tommy, there was some truth to what he was saying, masking the ulterior motive that was taking place. As she wheeled his stretcher into the elevator, down to the X-ray room, he couldn’t help but feel that he was simply picking low-hanging fruit at this point. He had done this sort of sh*t many times. But a hospital? This was just too easy. As Nurse Teller wheeled him into the X-ray area, a doctor was present, eager to review the results of how much damage a steering wheel to the head could create.

Doctor Morrison: Good afternoon, Fletcher. I wanted to be present, as I find your situation to be quite peculiar.

Triple Threat Tommy: Oh yeah doc, how so?

Doctor Morrison: Well it appears you have minimum external bruising, yet you are claiming immense pain from your accident, if I am presuming right?

Triple Threat Tommy: Yes that’s correct doctor. Actually, I was hoping I could ask you a favor?

Doctor Morrison: And what would that be Fletcher?

Triple Threat Tommy: (Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans) I was kinda hoping to get some (sound of gun cocking), MORPHINE!

Doctor Morrison: WHAT THE F**K?

Triple Threat Tommy: Get on the f***ing ground! Where’s the goddamn morphine? You get on the ground too nurse fine-ass! Now the both of you empty your goddamn pockets!

Both Doctor Morrison and Nurse Teller emptied their pockets, as Triple Threat Tommy lead them down the hallway using a folder to conceal the gun pointed at both of their backs as he lead them down the hallway, until they approached a lone door at the edge of the hallway with a biohazard logo adhered to the door. As the doctor unlocked the door, Tommy discovered that Rich O’Connell had already found the mother load and had a nurse and doctor of his own that he had taken hostage.

O’Connell: Alright quit stalling, and open the f***ing cabinet before I open your head!

Doctor Morrison opened the cabinet and began to grab bags of morphine along with various other types of painkillers, and emptied them tinto a large trash bag that was being held open by Triple Threat Tommy. After all the goods were supplied, Tommy and Rich grabbed Doctor Morrison and Nurse Teller and proceeded to sprint towards the front exit of the hospital, where it was apparent by a quick glance through the window that both local police, and state troopers had already caught wind of their mission.

Triple Threat Tommy: Well then, I guess it’s time for plan b.

O’Connell: Yeah, I guess it is then.

At that point, Tommy and Rich advanced up an elevator to room 312, where Rich waited outside with the doctor and nurse, as Tommy went across the hallway to make a phone call. Tommy quickly picked up the phone, grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket, and proceeded to dial a particular phone number. Tommy quickly set the phone down, sprinted into the room with Rich keeping the doctor and nurse at gunpoint following closely behind him. Tommy set his eyes on the window, and proceeded to open it.

Triple Threat Tommy: Alright now!

It was then that Rich O’Connell pushed the doctor and nurse out of the window, with himself and Tommy following suit and jumping out behind them. An ambulance pulled up directly outside of the window, making itself readily available for the four of them to enter.

Nurse Teller: I think I broke my f***ing leg!

Triple Threat Tommy: Well then it’s a damn good thing we’re getting in an ambulance (forcing her and Doctor Morrison into the back at gunpoint he stated this and knocked them both out with the barrel of his heavy revolver pistol)

In the driver’s seat of the ambulance sat none other than Carlos Rodriguez, an EMT and good friend of Triple Threat Tommy and Rich O’Connell. Carlos drove the ambulance directly to the front of the building where police officers had the perimeter of the building surrounded.

Carlos: (Sounding the sirens, and speaking to a trooper) Amigo, I just got a call for a 90 year old woman who has fallen and can’t get up, I need to get across town as soon as possible!

Trooper: Very well. Officer Anderson, get your cruiser out of the way, this ambulance needs to get through here!

Officer Anderson did as he was instructed and unknowingly allowed the getaway car for the perpetrators to get through the blockade completely undetected.

O’Connell: I can’t f***ing believe we’re about to get away with this sh*t.

Triple Threat Tommy: (Grinning) Like stealing candy from a f***ing baby.

Later that evening, Johnny Flannigan received confirmation that the mission had been executed flawlessly, and proceeded to place a phone call to report his vehicles as “stolen” to the police, awaiting the hefty insurance reward that awaited him from his badly damaged, “stolen” vehicles.

[Proud Houstonian]

Amazing Story

[Sopranos Republican]

Amazing Story

Thank you! I’m gonna be posting more soon, just been real busy lately.

[Sopranos Republican]

January 1, 1970

South Boston, Massachusetts

With a Little Help from my Friends



Viet Cong Soldier: ĐÈN XANH!!!  ĐÈN XANH!!!

Nixon: You will always be one of our greatest national treasures! I salute you young man!!

Mr. Hardy:  Jesus Christ, just shut the f**k up and eat your goddamn breakfast! Notice how John never cries like a bitch when he doesn’t get what he wants?

Mrs. Hardy: Dan! That is no way to talk to the child!

Mr. Hardy: F**k off Liz, you want him to turn into some kinda queer or some sh*t?

Armstrong: You like when I do that, don’t ya?

John: Just promise me Jimmy, that no matter what, you’ll end this f***in war?!

John quickly disappears into the abyss.


At that moment Jimmy awoke and was covered from head to toe in a thick sweat. It was so thick that it was almost as if he had just gotten out of a swimming pool, except the water that he felt in this instance was anything but refreshing.


Peter: (Sitting in a chair by Jimmy’s bedside) Oh f**k man. It’s about time you woke up! We were getting worried!

Jimmy: (Coughing) How.. How long was I out?

Peter: Three days. We began to worry that you’d never wake up.

Jimmy: Wish I hadn’t. (Turning back over)

Peter: Wait what are you doing?

Jimmy: Hopefully sleeping for another three days.

Peter: C’mon man you can’t just sleep your life away, you’ve literally been living in your room for the past two months. You gotta get out and do something. Laying here in your own filth isn’t going to help you recover from this. Besides it’s New Years!

Jimmy: Oh la-dee-f***ing-da. Maybe President Nixon can stop sending people’s kids and brothers to die and he can take me out for a lovely night out on the town.

Peter: Well the president isn’t here to see you, but someone else is.

Jimmy: Is it Mr. Flannigan? I already told him I’m not interested in working at the bar right now. Last thing I need is to drink more than I have been. If I work there right now I’ll drink him out of house and home.

Peter: Nah, it’s not Mr. Flannigan, although he did ask that I tell you to come down to the pub when you feel like it for a beer and a burger. On the house he says.

Jimmy: Oh great, free burgers for the troops, should really get the boys to sign up for the draft.

Mr. Hardy: (Knocking) Hey, how’s it going slugger?

Jimmy: About as well as you’d expect, dad.

Mr. Hardy: Well, just hang in there. Anyways, there is someone here to see you. A friend of yours, I’ve been talking to him down in the parlor for the last couple of hours. Gotta say he’s an impressive fellow.

Jimmy: Who is it?

At that moment a broad shouldered figure entered Jimmy’s room. A man that was very familiar to Jimmy, and had fought by his side through thick and thin. Through rain, heat, cold, and gunfire. It was none other than...

Jimmy: Jackie!!

Armstrong: How’s it going champion?

Jimmy’s entire complexion and demeanor seemed to change at a moment’s notice. Out of anyone that could’ve walked through the door at that moment, there was no other that could’ve had the same immediate effect on Jimmy’s mood than Jackie Armstrong. Jackie was also one of the last people that Jimmy expected to be present at this moment. For starters he figured Jackie was either still stationed in Vietnam, or back in Chicago visiting his sick grandmother. He would never have guessed that Jackie made the trek all the way to Boston just to visit Jimmy. On the other hand this was the first time that Jimmy could recall a negro being present in his home, with the notable exception of Marcus the milkman. He was shocked that his father would allow a black man to enter the home. His father wasn’t someone Jimmy would describe as exceptionally racist, just Irish. But Dan Hardy was far from being a Civil Rights activist either.

Jimmy: I… I thought you were still in Nam.’

Armstrong: (Smiling) Motherf***er, don’t you pay attention to anything I say? My service term expired at the beginning of December. Don’t you remember me talking about it shortly before… Well you know..

Jimmy: Oh yeah that’s right, it’s just been hard to remember sh*t that happened before then.

Armstrong: Oh man, I was just busting your balls, I completely understand that.

Jimmy: What are you doing in Boston?

Armstrong: Having dinner with the Kennedys of course.

Everyone: (Laughs)

Armstrong: Man, visiting your sleepy ass obviously! C’mon I know you Irish boys are world renowned for your alcoholism, and ain’t it New Years? Shouldn’t we be hitting some of the local bars, maybe mixing it up with some of the local ladies or something?

Hardy: Well, I haven’t actually left the house since I got back in November, but I guess now is as good a time as any to get out. I guess I’ll shower up and we’ll go out on the town.

Mr. Hardy: I’ll join you boys if you’re alright with that. I’m buying!

Armstrong: Sounds good to me!

The trio proceeded to Mr. Flannigan’s pub for a couple of pints and some burgers. When the entered the bar however, they received some rather strange looks from the local regulars, mainly regarding Jackie’s presence. However the bewilderment quickly turned into thunderous rounds of applause. No one besides Mr. Flannigan had seen Jimmy since he had deployed to Vietnam 18 months earlier. And even Mr. Flannigan had only seen Jimmy one day while was sleeping and Flannigan had happened to be over at the Hardy house to talk to have his brakes looked at by Jimmy’s father.

Jerry Connelly: There he is!! That’s the man right there!!

Triple Threat Tommy: He’s ALIVE! You beautiful son of a bitch!!

Before Jimmy could even respond he was swept off of his feet by about 15 of Southie’s finest. It was pandemonium for Mr. Flannigan to try and sort out all of the money from patrons clamoring to buy a drink for Jimmy. At Jimmy’s insistence numerous orders were placed to purchase drinks for Jackie and Mr. Hardy as well. Thunderous tunes of “He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” broke out among the patrons. Jim Sepherelli was present to man the piano to keep up with the requests for songs to be played for Jimmy’s return. There was a mountain of alcohol flowing Jimmy’s way, and he was never one to turn down a stranger’s offer to buy him a drink, never mind 20 of them in quick succession.

There was practically a line forming just to talk to him. Mr. Flannigan, informed him of the new fishing boat that he had purchased, and insisted that Jimmy come out with him as soon as spring arrived. Mr. Connelly offered him a lucrative job working at his small grocery store on L Street. Professor Watkins from Boston State College talked to him about going to college and the free ride that he would most certainly join if he decided to take up the offer. And the alcohol was flowing so freely that Jimmy was having extreme difficulty in remembering which offers he had accepted and which he had rejected. It was nothing like he had ever experienced prior to this. The madness continued until about 1:00 AM, when the trio finally decided to return back to the house. Jimmy, Jackie, and Jimmy’s father continued chattering on the walk back.

Dan: (Laughing) Jackie, I’ve gotta hand it to you. I’ve never seen someone that good at playing pool. Sean and Sully were like your personal bank account. 

Jackie: (Laughing) I almost felt bad, sir. We didn’t pay for one drink all night, and yet I was still taking these folks money!

Jimmy: Man, if you weren’t with us they would’ve thrown you into the Bay! And that’s if they were feeling nice that day!

Jackie: Listen, I’m from Chicago I ain’t afraid of them boys!

Jimmy: You say that now, but I would’ve liked to see the look on your face if you were by yourself and they cut the pay phone line!

Jackie: (Lighting up cigarette) Man, I think Boston might be my new favorite city! Well besides Chicago. The people here are way too much fun!

Jimmy: Oh you say that now, just wait till we’re not around.

Dan: Nah, Jimmy. I think Jackie would be okay. He’s got that…. Certain something. People like him, I certainly do.

Jackie: Thank you sir!

Dan: Well here we are. Jackie you’re more than welcome to stay here of course.

Jackie: I think I might take you up on that. Don’t think hailing a cab tonight is something I want to be doing.

Dan: Well, I’m going to get to bed before Jimmy’s mom kills me, night guys.

Jimmy: Night dad!

Jackie retired to the guest room, while Jimmy went to his bed, where he proceeded to lie there for awhile with the light on, while reading a book he had read much during his time in Vietnam, but never quite finished. He glared for a minute at the green and gold cover of the book: “Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám”

Suddenly, he saw Jackie standing there at his bedroom door. Jackie slyly closed the door behind him.

Jackie: You still remember what to do with all that I have to offer right? (Jackie’s pants fall to the floor)

Jimmy: (Whispering)  I’m not sure if we should be doing this. My parents are sleeping in the next room over!

Jackie: Man you really are a nervous Nancy aren’t you? You said the same sh*t at first in Nam’ and it turned out alright in my humble opinion.

Jimmy: We just have to be quiet, that’s all I’m saying.

Jackie: (Smiling while pushing Jimmy’s head downwards) Oh don’t worry, I can make you quiet real quick.

[Sopranos Republican]

June 29, 1991

Whitefish, Montana

The Big Sky Kid





INXS - Don’t Change


“Don't change for you
Don't change a thing for me
Don't change for you
Don't change a thing for me”


It was a warm summer’s afternoon in Whitefish, Montana. The scene at Jared’s Backyard Country Barbecue was electric, to say the least. For one, news reporters from national outlets were crammed into this tiny restaurant in scenic, middle of nowhere Montana. Most locals were barely familiar with this establishment, let alone national media moguls. However, on this day, there was quite a good reason for the hordes to descend upon the small town, that had nothing to do with engaging in a freshwater fishing trip. Senator Scott Westman had called the media in for a reason. Many members of the Associated Press were deeply confused over the choice of venue. There was barely enough seating to accommodate 20 rowdy locals, nevermind 100 or so reporters, along with several regular customers. Many reporters were asking questions about the establishment itself.

Reporter: Hello Senator, Susan Rathgib from NBC News. I was just wondering if I could have a word with “Jared?” We wanted to get some details straight for the report for the nightly news.

Westman was sitting on a foldable chair, next to a tall, burly man adorned in a fine designer suit that appeared to be of European origin. They sat to the right side of the makeshift podium, while Westman drank a glass of Jameson on the rocks, while wearing a slightly wrinkled flannel shirt, with Wrangler Jeans, and wearing some sunglasses that couldn’t have cost more than $10.

Westman: Oh gee, kid. I’m a little busy at the moment. As I’m sure you can understand it’s an important day and everything, let’s see here uhhh…. Carl! Can you help her out?

Herschelwitz: (Running over from across the restaurant) Hello Carl Herschelwitz, pleasure to meet. What can I do for ya?

Reporter: Nice to meet you, I was wondering if I could speak to the owner, Jared?

Herschelwitz: Oh ya know, he’s actually not here at the moment, he’s actually out running his other business, (loudly) HIS GUN SHOP! However, I can take a message and pass it on to him.

While Ms. Rathgib was a bit taken aback by the confusion, she found Mr. Herschelwitz to be very charming, and accomodating. Of course his charm, helped distract from the fact that “Jared” did not exist, and never had existed, and that she had actually come across the owner when she was speaking to Westman, for the man sitting next to Westman, one Mr. Gary McKiernan, was the actual proprietor of this establishment. Gary did not care much for those wanting to come to him with complaints and concerns about his restaurant, it was simply a venture that he had purchased now that he was old and wanted a steady revenue stream. Much less than unsatisfied customers, or as Gary referred to them as “the crusty old bitches” did he care for reporters and the news media at large. However, he truly cared about his stepson, in a “bro” type of way, and also knew that having the national press identify his barbecue joint as the “birthplace” of the campaign of the next potential president of the United States, could serve as a great boon for his business.

McKiernan: You think that fine piece of ass is gonna figure out that this is my joint?

Westman: Nah, I think that Carl has her preoccupied with his charm, or whatever.

McKiernan: Very good! Well, as I’ve always said. If you can’t wow em’ with your wisdom, you baffle em with your bullsh**t!

Westman: Oh yeah? Is that how you landed my mom?

McKiernan: Listen smartass, maybe if you paused for a second, you’d realize you could learn a thing or tw——- (Shouting Across the Bar) Hey Killian! Could you refrain from drinking all my hooch, and maybe serve some to our esteemed guess!?

Darkwater: You said it was an “open bar.” And here I am opening the bar!

McKiernan: Well maybe, open up some of the bar, to our guests’ glasses instead of your own!

Darkwater: Hey, where’s all that fancy Champagne you bought?

Westman: Oh, you thought I was gonna serve that to the ravenous media mob? Nah, they’re getting Miller Lite. The good stuff is for us at the afterparty.

At that moment Chuck Lindsay appeared from the kitchen. He was a tall African-American man who worked as the head cook at Jared’s Barbecue. He was the heart and soul of the restaurant. Taking with him the recipes he grew up making in Memphis with him to his gorgeous lakefront property in Montana that he had purchased after a good night in Vegas. He didn’t even need the money, but got rather bored sitting around at his lake house for a number of years, smoking Killian Darkwater’s finest weed. Again, it was a very good night in Vegas.

Lindsay: Alright I got all the ribs ready, I’mma bring em out with some plates for our guests.

Westman: Awesome, make sure you use the paper plates, not the good ones alright?

Lindsay: You got it, Senator! You sure you don’t wanna use the good plates for this?

McKiernan: Yeah Scott, this is a good advertising stunt for me after all.

Westman: How can I justify serving wealthy reporters gourmet food on fine China when millions of Americans are on the streets starving to death thanks to Reagan’s ECONOMIC SARANGHETTI?! Paper plates are fine!

McKiernan: Christ, you could stand to lose some of the Commie rhetoric. But whatever makes you feel better about winning. If you win, I can flip this sh**thole for millions in a couple of years!

Westman: Alright, well it looks like we’re ready to begin. Wish me luck, boys! (Grabs whole rack of ribs as he steps on to the makeshift podium made of empty beer kegs)


Westman: My fellow Americans, I’m here to ask you a couple of questions. Are you sick of eating (pulls can of Chef Boyardee canned ravioli from behind the podium) GARBAGE like this, while the FATCATS on Wall Street eat like THIS?! (Holds up rack of ribs he took from the platter moments before) Are you sick of your kids watching assholes on the nightly news, tell them that their schools SUCK, that their neighborhoods SUCK, and that their chances of reaching the Middle class F***IN SUCK?!

Reporter: Woah, Senator! Language!!

Westman: I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just, I get a little emotional talking about this, this deep injustice that exists in our country right now. But what I’m not sorry for, and will never be sorry for, is standing up for the forgotten man! The Montanan, who has worked the lands of his farm, for all the best years of his life, who grows old and feeble, and through NO fault of his own after a bad harvest season, is now wondering how in the hell he’s going to pay his ailing wife’s medical bills! The black man in Chicago who ya know, maybe he sold drugs a couple of times when he was 19 years old, and now at age 35, still cannot find gainful employment anywhere, because of a system that has been deeply rigged against him from the day he was born! The once proud factory worker in Trumbull County, Ohio who faithfully showed up and worked that godforsaken job from the day he turned 18 years of age, and is now being told by the ELITES on Wall Street, that his job is now being done in China, and his services are no longer needed! My God people, when the hell are we going to WAKE UP, and take back what is RIGHTFULLY OURS, and stand up to the elite few who are committing a slightly more polite version of GENOCIDE against the American worker, those greedy shills who are perpetrating a willful act of treachery against those who built their wealth for them in their first place! The BENEDICT ARNOLDS, who are responsible for the ECONOMIC SARANGHETTI! It is for these reasons, the grievances that we possess against the system as a whole, that I, Scott Westman, am announcing my candidacy for the office of President of the United States of America!

Bar Regulars: (Cheer wildly)

The applause from Westman’s allies within the restaurant was near deafening levels. The reaction from the press however was one of shock, and confusion, wondering if those applauding had heard the same tirade that they had just witnessed. One thing was for certain however. The 1992 election season was now in full swing. As one New York Times article appropriately quipped… “Let the Games Begin!”

[TransfemmeGoreVidal]

This is great! Haven't seen a timeline with original characters in a long while and the writing is excellent. Eagerly following.

[Sopranos Republican]

This is great! Haven't seen a timeline with original characters in a long while and the writing is excellent. Eagerly following.

Many Thanks!

[Sopranos Republican]

September 9, 1971

Boston, Massachusetts

Trade Secrets






The time had come for Jimmy Hardy to finally forget about the tribulations he and his family had suffered at the hands of the Viet Cong, and move forward in life. As was customary in his native Massachusetts, he arrived at the campus of the University of Massachusetts Boston the day after Labor Day. UMass was a commuter-only school, so Jimmy would have to forgo the luxuries of campus living that many of his friends, and his younger brother Peter were afforded. As Jimmy’s father had quipped somewhat encouragingly: “You can always go to one of those rich people homo schools after you get your foundation!” He walked into the first class of his undergraduate career that morning with a gas station soda in one hand and an Intro to Macroeconomics textbook in the other. "Fifty f***ing dollars. That’s a week's pay’s worth of scrubbing tables at Flannigan’s. I really hope this proves to be worth it." Interrupting his thoughts was Professor John DeRoucher, one of the leading economists at the university.

DeRoucher: Okay class, welcome everyone, sorry I’m running a few minutes late, we’re going to get started right away as a result, I’ll do a roll call at the end of class. Please open your textbooks to chapter 4, we’re going to start the semester off there.

About 15 minutes of Professor DeRoucher’s lecture had gone by and Jimmy’s mind was already in a completely different part of the universe. His mind began to wander back to Vietnam, and as such began to drift into the final moments of his brother’s life. "Why the f**k is this so hard? Why can’t I stop thinking about this?" Thankfully for Jimmy, his mind was briefly distracted from this thought train at the entrance of a tall young man entering the classroom.  To Jimmy there was something not quite right about this character. Some might categorize him as slightly handsome, but more than anything else his face just seemed to betray the fact that he felt he was smarter than everyone else in his presence.

DeRoucher: Ahhh, Matthew. So kind of you to finally join us today. Did you get lost again in transit?

Donahue: (In toxically over the top Boston speak) Oh Professah DeRouchah! You always raz me about my attendance, but I still aced all your tests last year. Have you thought that I might like to challenge myself a bit?

DeRoucher: If you enjoy challenges, I suggest that you obtain a job scraping barnacles off fishing boats down at the docks. Otherwise, I will ask that you arrive at my lectures punctually this time around.

Class: (Laughs)

Donahue: Whatevah you say, teach! (Pointing at the empty seat next to Jimmy) I’m gonna sit down next to my friend, Baldie here, if that’s cool with him.

Class: (Laughs)

Hardy: (Mockingly) HAHAHAHA! Make fun of my appearance, why don’t you?

Donahue: Lighten up chief, I come in peace! You got a name, or do you prefer Baldie?

Hardy: (Angrily) IT’S F***ING JIMMY!!

DeRoucher: Jimmy! Quit interrupting my class, and treat your fellow classmates with some respect! Mr. Donahue is a bit difficult to deal with sometimes, but he is one of my star pupils.

Hardy: (Sighs Angrily)

Donahue: (Whispering in Jimmy’s ear) Don’t worry chief, this guy’s class is a f***ing joke. We’re gonna ace it no problem!

Jimmy: (Whispering in response) Can you be quiet please, I can’t hear a word of the lecture!

Donahue: You new around here? This college thing is a breeze. Far beats working with my dad welding pipes all day! By the way you need any puff puff? My man Davey’s got the hookup on some premio grass!

Jimmy: I’m fine, thanks.

Donahue: Oh come now, you ain’t some type of teetotaller are ya? This stuff will put hair right on your head!

Jimmy: (Yelling) SHUT THE F**K UP!

DeRoucher: That’s it Jimmy! Pack your belongings and get out of my class! Maybe by Thursday you’ll have learned the basic manners required for involving yourself in collegiate life!

Donahue: Woah woah woah! Professor, if you throw Jimmy out you’re going to have to throw me out of here too! I was over there busting his balls and everything, it’s my fault that he had that temper tantrum, won’t happen again!

DeRoucher: Very well. Jimmy you can stay, but any more outbursts and both you and Mr. Donahue will be having a premature meeting with your guidance counselors!  

Jimmy intently listened to the rest of the lecture, still fuming that his classmate had gotten him so enraged that he was nearly thrown out of class his first day in college. Jimmy vowed to himself that he would not sit near this kid at any point for the rest of the semester. To Jimmy, his dream of proving to his parents that he was just as capable as his brothers, and achieving upward mobility was far more important than lashing out at some douchebag in his class. Jimmy attended two more classes that afternoon: Trigonometry and Biology. The final bell of the day couldn’t come quick enough, for he knew that he would be able to escape collegiate life for a few beverages with Triple Threat Tommy and his cousin Jack Stacks later that evening. He arrived at Tommy’s house, and was surprised to see the large number of cars parked on the street near Triple Threat’s House. "It’s a goddamn Tuesday Night for God’s sake. Why the hell are there this many people here? Ahh whatever, I could use a good time." 

The Rolling Stones - You Can't Always Get What You Want


Hardy: *Knocks at Door*

Triple Threat Tommy: JIMMY!!! Looking as good as ever if I do say so myself!

Hardy: (Laughing) Well, someone in this goddamn group of mongols has to be the looks am I --- r---

Jimmy was flabbergasted by one of the persons present at Triple Threat Tommy’s barnburner. "It was that douchebag from class, Donahue!" Jimmy nearly turned around and left, but was quickly spotted by Donahue.

Donahue: Oh sh*t! Baldie! What are you doing here man? You know Triple T?

Hardy: Yes, for MANY MANY years! The more important question here is how do you know my good friend Tommy?

Tommy: Motherer, he’s got the best grass this side of the Mississippi!

Donahue: (Noticeably intoxicated already slurring his words): Ehh, it’s nothin it’s nothin. And I couldn’t do it without the help of this guy! Tommy. Baldie. This is my main man Nick Soltano. Brockton’s greatest young entrepreneur. Well, in the eyes of those that matter anyhow. Check this, cats. Nicky figured out how to boil all this sh**t down into the most intoxicating marijuana oil you’ve never had!

Soltano: The best part is I use my dad’s RV engine to heat it up enough to make the oil!

Tommy: And how do you separate all the other gunk that comes with it?
 
Soltano: Oh that’s a trade secret. (Winks at Donahue)

Hardy: Guys, I’m really happy for you, and I’m gonna let you finish, but I fail to share in the excitement here. I literally haven’t smoked since before I joined the Army!

Soltano: That sounds like a problem that I may have a solution for.

Tommy: Wow, I didn’t realize that the army had the power to turn people. GAY!

Donahue: OOHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Hardy: SHUT THE F**K UP! YOU’RE THE ONLY FAGS HERE! GIMME THAT SH*T!

Following this, several hours went by, and Jimmy realized that Tommy’s vinyl player seemed to be stuck playing You Can’t Always Get what you Want by the Rolling Stones for about 40 minutes straight. It was then that Matt Donahue came over to chat with Jimmy.

Donahue: Man, I’m real sorry about what happened in class today. I like giving people a hard time.

Hardy: You’re fine.

Donahue: If you don’t mind me asking. Tommy mentioned that you served over in Nam?

Hardy: Yeah, unfortunately. Did you?

Donahue: I hate to brag here but I kind of hit the jackpot. I was over there for about a month, but then the war ended. My older cousin Sean though… Doc says he’ll never walk again.

Hardy: I’m sorry. I lost my brother John in the war.

Donahue: Oh Jesus man.

Hardy: Those Charlie bastards blew him the f**k up right in front of me. I was fighting right by his side when it happened.

Donahue: Holy sh**t Jimmy. I had no idea. I’m so sorry!

Hardy: That’s really why I’m going to school. I don’t even know what I want to do yet, but what I do know is that I can’t just keep sitting at home in my own filth fixated on the sh*t. Hell, I should probably be studying right now.

Donahue: Nah, don’t do that.

Hardy: Pardon me?

Donahue: (Pulls a piece of paper from his pocket) I already got the answers for the first quiz next week.

Hardy: And where the hell did you get that sir?

Donahue: (Grinning) I couldn’t tell you. It’s a trade secret.

Hardy: (Laughs)

[Chips]

Interesting read so far.