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Selling war Your Mileage May Vary. (And Where Are the Brakes?By Rick Horowitz John Q. and the missus are just looking. That's what they say any time a salesman even starts to walk toward them: "We're just looking." But it's a big lot, and there are plenty of salesmen coming at them from every direction. Eventually, they'll have to talk to someone. Not yet, though. John Q. and the missus are shopping for a war. The last one they bought was -- oh my, was it a dozen years ago? They're thinking it may be time for a new one. That's why they're here at George W.'s. "DEALS! DEALS! DEALS!" the banners scream. "HUNDREDS OF GOOD BUYS!!!" It's all very impressive, they have to admit: the banners, the patriotic music from the loudspeakers, row after row of reds and whites and blues. They feel a little jolt of excitement as they take in the scene. It's almost -- "That one's a beauty, isn't it?" They turn, and there's George W. himself (he looks just like his pictures!) standing tall and confident right beside them. "This one here?" "The Saddam 850 XL -- top of the line. You want to take it out for a spin?" John Q. and the missus don't want to take it out for a spin. Not yet. They're still considering their options, and they know how seductive that new-war smell can be. For the moment, at least, they'd rather keep all four feet on solid ground. That doesn't stop George W. "It handles great," he says. "Tremendous pickup. And you've got your satellite-guidance system -- take this baby anywhere you want, you'll never get lost. You want to drive the entire Middle East? Piece of cake! Iraq, then over to Israel and the occupied territories, Syria -- " "This thing goes from Iraq to Israel?" John Q. is intrigued. "I always thought you had to go through Israel and the territories first." "Don't believe everything you hear," George W. tells him. "You give it a good workout in Iraq, and Israel and the rest will be smooth sailing." John Q. and the missus don't believe everything they hear. (Not even when they hear it from George W.) But smooth sailing through the entire Middle East -- wouldn't that be terrific? "So how much is it?" John Q. hears the words coming from his mouth. He hadn't intended to say them, not yet, but there they are, floating in the air. George W. only flips his hand at them. "If you have to ask," he says with just the trace of a sneer, "maybe you can't afford it." And ever so slightly, he starts to turn away from them, and back toward the showroom. "Oh, we can afford it!" John Q. is quick to assure him, and ever so slightly, George W. turns around again. "It's just that -- you know, you hear so many models, so many different prices. One of your ads a while back said 100 billion, 200 billion for the Saddam -- " "That guy didn't know what he was talking about. We dumped him." " -- and weren't you pushing the Al Qaeda 380Z really hard?" "Forget the Al Qaeda -- the Saddam is the one you want. And forget the 200 billion -- figure 50 billion tops. Give or take another 50." George W. sees them hesitate, steps in to close the deal. "You have to look at it as an investment. In your future. This baby'll run forever!" John Q. glances at the missus, who glances at John Q. They shrug. They smile. In an instant, George W. has the contract and the shiny gold pen out of his pocket. He hands them to John Q., who scrawls his name here, and here, and here, and hands them back. "Fifty billion, give or take another 50," John Q. says. "We can live with that. And I assume that covers maintenance, too?" George W. folds the contract, slides the pen back into his pocket. "Maintenance would be extra." Posted 2/27/03. Readers
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Rick Horowitz
