In this briefcase lies the fate of the world. It contains top-secret codes to launch a nuclear strike. Two presidents — one from each party — trusted a young Marine named John Kline to safeguard it.
– 2004 Nuclear Football Ad
John Kline called up the nukes for his 2004 Congressional re-election campaign against Teresa Daly. The nuclear football ad opened with ominous imagery of a black briefcase against a dark background, with 24-like green numbers chattering urgently across the screen.
The ad enabled Kline to evoke fear of terrorists and flash images (and implied endorsement) of three presidents, Carter, Reagan and Bush the First. Kline likes to run on "character" and attack on character, too, because his actual record as a Congressman doesn't hold up well under scrutiny, unless the scrutinizer happens to be a DeLay Republican.
But let's not dwell on the negatives. If Kline's experience schlepping a suitcase between presidential appearances still represents the pinnacle of his public service, shouldn't we know more about the great responsibility he shouldered?
Of course, I didn't expect the Kline campaign to return calls to this side of the divide, so I sought other sources on the subject of lugging the nuclear football.
Incredibly, I was able to make contact with Abu Jamal bin-Qawrahiri-Sorensen, who had recently completed nuclear football training camp and was awaiting assignment as a special aide to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. You know I triple-check all my facts, so I hope you will understand that I cannot reveal more about the shadowy bin-Qawrahiri-Sorensen than is contained in the exlusive interview he granted to Across the Great Divide.
[Right] The shadowy Abu Jamal bin-Qawrahiri-Sorensen, nuclear football authority.
CQ: First off, Mr. bin-Qawra…
AJ: Why make it difficult on yourself? Call me A.J.
CQ: I understand that Iran has a nuclear football program. Is this not an admission that your country is developing nuclear weapons?
AJ: Quite the contrary. It shows that we seek safe and benign use of the atom, by putting in place the very safeguards that have thus far kept the infidel from mistakenly bombing any nation it fears — I mean with nukes, of course. Developing well in advance our own nuclear football, as you call it, shows our responsibility and goodwill toward superpowers that actually have a nuclear arsenal, just in case, say, we were to accidentally stumble across a nuclear warhead in the course of enriching uranium for peaceful purposes.
CQ: Are you able to describe any similarities between your nuclear football program and ours?
AJ: We naturally studied your program quite closely and there are similarities, although we refer to our suitcase as the nuclear goatskin, for reasons I’m sure you understand.
CQ: How are the aides in your country selected for this assignment?
AJ: First, you have to be tall. You don’t want the president to be looking around for the guy with the goatskin in a crisis. Nor do you want someone who would be dragging it on the ground. It's not dignified. So first we look for tall people, preferably those who would not be taken away from meaningful assignments.
CQ: I was thinking more about intellectual characteristics, service experience, that sort of thing.
AJ: Well, remember the main duty is to carry a 40-pound suitcase and produce the combination should you have to open it. Should the president be a moron or wetting his pants, you might have to walk him briskly through his options for destroying humankind. In your country this may have happened only once since the Kennedy administration. Opening the suitcase, I mean.
Otherwise, be quiet, unobtrusive and never upstage the boss. Remember which limo is the president’s… Get on the right elevator… Don't leave your bag in the overhead compartment... Give the goatskin to the proper relief person when you go off duty… Most qualifications would fall somewhere between a bellhop, a roadie and a safety deposit box attendant, I’d say. A chimp could do most of it, but there's that knuckle-dragging problem.
CQ: In the U.S., the aides all have to be a certain rank in the military.
AJ: Oh, you'd want military, all right. They’re disciplined, fit, follow orders and are conditioned to endure long periods of excruciating boredom. Because of the constant proximity to the president, minimal body odor would be a definite plus, although more in your country than in mine.
CQ: And security clearance would be necessary, of course.
AJ: Ah, yes. Any goatskin aide must pass a special security investigation. In your country, it’s called "Yankee White," which should tell you all you need to know about it. The criteria include unquestionable loyalty to the country, plus an absolute absense of any foreign influence over the individual, his family, or any persons to whom the individual is closely linked. In other words, no false gods and no appetites allowed.
In your country, you recruit Texans who went to Georgetown before joining the Marines.
In my country, we don't like so much uncertainty, so we imprison a few relatives and threaten to grind their children's and their children's children's bones to dust should any questionable behavior arise.
CQ: Yes, I think we're looking into that system... I was going to ask about foreign influence. I mean, how does someone with the name Sorensen achieve a position of trust with Ahmadinejad?
AJ: Oh, that. Mom wanted to keep her name, you know. But beyond that, it's quite simple. We took a look at the kind of people carrying the football on your side and decided we should have more, ah, versatile players. The last thing we want when the world is facing annihilation is to be on the phone talking to a Texan who thinks we're the Russians, doesn't understand Farsi and believes Allah is on his side.
So why are you asking these questions?
CQ: We have a former nuclear football carrier running for Congress here in Minnesota.
AJ: Very funny.
