When my good friend Chuck Larson strode through the door of the Lake View Inn wearing a blue blazer with brass buttons and a white captain’s hat with gold braid, we all pretended not to notice his obvious ploy for attention. Chuck removed his hat and tucked it under his arm like a military officer, walked to the bar, and claimed a stool. After a few minutes, it was bartender Wally who broke the ice.
“Well, if it isn’t Thurston Howell the Third! Welcome to the Lake View,” Wally chirped. “What can I get you?”
“Very funny,” Chuck replied. “For your information, I’m prototyping an outfit for my pending appointment to the incoming administration.”
“Ok, Tommy Topsider, we’ll bite,” Wally said. “Your appointment as…”
“You are looking at the new Secretary of Boating,” Chuck said. “I’ve been in contact with the transition team, and pending an FBI background check, there will be an official announcement. It’s a new Cabinet position, so my appointment will be subject to Senate confirmation, but I don’t anticipate any opposition. The skids have been thoroughly greased.
“If any of you followed the game like I do, you’d know that cash is the Yamalube of politics, and I covered my bases by contributing to both campaigns. It’s called bundling. I rounded up cash from movers and shakers, and made generous donations. Five hundred dollars to each side, with the understanding that I’d top the list for the Secretary of Boating position.”
Wally threw down a coaster and set a Spotted Cow onto the blue Formica bar in front of Chuck.
“I do follow politics, and I happen to know that $500 is chicken scratch for a presidential campaign,” Wally said. “And I don’t think the administration can just create a new Cabinet position. Congress needs to do that.”
“That’s in the works,” Chuck said. “Both of our senators are on board. On board—get it?
“I’ll be promoting recreational boating throughout the government, acting as a liaison to other agencies that touch boating, from the US Coast Guard to the EPA to the fisheries folks. There are 14.5 million boat owners in the US who spend $49.3 billion on boats, marine products and services annually. We boat and we vote! That was my pitch to the transition team.”
If Chuck was joking about this, I thought he was keeping a remarkably straight face.
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“Let me share a few of my agenda ideas,” Chuck continued as he picked a bit of lint off his blazer sleeve. “We’ll eliminate the EPA ethanol mandate so that we boaters don’t have to deal with fuel that loves water. I’ll encourage FEMA to develop a program to fully compensate boat owners when a vessel is damaged or lost in a hurricane, just as it helps out homeowners. I’ll work with the Coast Guard on a nationwide standard for wakeboat operation, and we’ll rescind the ridiculous personal watercraft speed limit. I’m going to work with Bennington to design a presidential pontoon—Pontoon One when the boss is aboard—in the same color scheme as Air Force One. And finally, I’ll propose that the portrait of Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill is replaced by our favorite immigrant from Norway, Ole Evinrude.”
Whether Chuck is pulling our leg, or someone is pulling his, remains to be seen. I guess we’ll find out on January 20. In his white hat, the Secretary of Boating should be easy to spot on the inaugural rostrum. The skids, after all, have been greased.
