Presidential Election
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Presidential Election

Deep cover one-on-one last week: Benghazi about to explode!

by M. Charles McBee on 12/22/13

December, 2013


Meeting with one of my deep cover intel contacts in Washington, DC:


Researching my latest novel, THE SODALITY, with the objective of it being optioned by one of the big dogs  in the movie biz  “out there,” a/k/a, LA, not unlike several original screenplays I’ve written since 1998, I decided it was time for another one-on-one with a key intel contact, now positioned with a sub-contractor in the DC metro area.


While the thrust and direction of my novels take a swipe at the political shenanigans that seem to take precedence over “regular order” business inside the beltway, I take fictional liberty with actual events that happen inside the West Wing, and up on the “Hill.”


During the course of the conversation, regarding several fictional characters, including a White House aide and a senior Senator, and their relationship to the President and the Archbishop of Washington, DC, a relationship that travels back in time almost 40 years, I suggested to my contact, and former college roomie, that I wanted to include a larger Middle East suspense angle to the story, and bring in the consequences of making “political” decisions in advance of a national election.


This premise proved to be successful in my novel, COUNTERPOINT.


This is when the BENGHAZI floodgates opened. And we took an immediate sharp turn away from THE SODALITY. And focused on Congressman Issa’s investigation into the Benghazi tragedy, i.e., four Americans murdered, including the first U.S. Ambassador to be murdered by armed enemies of the U.S. since the Carter Administration in the late 70’s.


The explosive part to come in a few days.


Stay tuned!    


The Audacity of Hope to Be Re-elected!

by M. Charles McBee on 03/11/12

The Audacity of Hope to Be Re-elected!

 I have always loved Presidential politics. It goes way back to the 1960 election when the New York Yankees played the Pittsburgh Pirates in the World Series – just several weeks before the election. The Pirates won that series! Since I’m a National League fan, this was indeed going to be a good year. And perhaps setting-up a lucky streak.

And being a born and bred New York City National League guy, I loathe the Yankees. Anytime any team beats the Yankees it’s grounds for instant canonization for the winner. 

At the time, I was at boarding school and remember listening to the final game on my cheap Japanese transistor radio just outside the dormitory. I was with my pal Graham Freer – now a Dentist out in Southern California – when we heard the final out.  I was so thrilled I accidently slugged Graham. I don’t think he’s ever forgotten that moment. Nor have I. 

Being an election year where the underdog was a Catholic, and I was a student at a Catholic boarding school, run by the Marist Brothers, the daily topic that fall was the election.

Messing with the Marist Brothers on an intellectual level was akin to spitting into the wind and stepping on Superman’s cape at the same time! Which goes to explain why I love Presidential politics.  In some circles it’s called brainwashing.

But then I didn’t know the difference between a Republican and a Democrat. All I knew then was Jack Kennedy was our guy. Although today some may argue that it’s still hard to distinguish.

Is Mitt Romney a nimble conservative or light liberal? Is Rick Santorum so far to the right that the John Birch Society has decided to dig up John Birch and is, at this moment, attempting CPR? Is Newt in favor of marriage, or just any marriage? Is Ron Paul still breathing? Someone hold a mirror under his nose. Is Obama still the President?

These are questions both parties have trouble defending.

With Kennedy now the Big Kahuna, I was pumped. I knew I would go from prep school to college, and major in Political Science.

Until that day, November 22, 1963.

When the world came to a sudden stop. The pain was unbearable. From where I was sitting, everyone around me was in some state of discomfort or grief. Everywhere I turned for sympathy, I was ignored. No one seemed to care about me.

I just sat there.

In pain.

And, yes, bleeding.

Bleeding and wondering what was to happen next.

What happened next was a guy named Doctor Snodgrass. He was an ER doctor at North Shore Hospital in Manhasset, New York. And he looked at me without saying a word for a very long time. Then said, with very little in the friendly bedside manner department…

“You broke your nose.”

Despite the fact that President Kennedy had been assassinated just hours before, the scuffle I had with my roommate, Craig Angelett, earlier that morning, is what resulted in my nose being broken, and nothing to do with JFK.

My broken nose was of little consequence to everyone.

Except my Mom. Who had taken me to the ER.

Whose gentle words of comfort still ping around my little brain to this day.

“You’re gonna have two ugly black eyes.”

So today, when I think of Presidential politics, I instinctively pick my nose.

Which has finally taken me to this next stage in life.

Writing a book.

A story of fiction, in the style of Dave Barry satire and Nelson DeMille tongue and cheek drama, but borne from a deep, murky well of distrust with those in and around the Office of the President of the United States. Someone had to know JFK was going to be bumped off.

It’s that ignorant, aggressive, fearless state of mind that seems to grow inside the man or woman wishing to hold, or hold onto, that job. And the people around him, or her.

Do you think Herman Cain’s problems last fall suddenly surfaced out of nowhere? Look somewhere! Anywhere! Like, calling 312-698-3670 and asking for Herman Cain. Those guys claim to “own” the black candidate. God help us should another honest, hardworking brother with integrity, spot-on theological faith and weekly church attendance, step up to the challenge. And gain broad traction.

The audacity of campaign strategy and tactics, words that bear little resemblance to the simple job description James Madison wrote when penning the United Sates Constitution, is to use lies, deceit, and a lack of transparency to further its mission at hood-winking the other 300 million of us.

COUNTERPOINT, the novel written in the satirical style of Dave Barry combined with the authentic drama of Nelson DeMille, dives into this realm of real life in the form of an entertaining, smartly written story of fiction, and a “scheme” that places millions of people in danger.

And there’s only 48 hours to get it resolved.