and Stripes stapled to dowels—are lifted and flapped, each one designed to sustain maximum
enthusiasm at cheapest cost.
Lewis thinks about moving the camera back a bit and placing some children in the lower foreground, blurry yet eager, the tops
of their heads bouncing with glee. But what's the point? Right now he doesn't feel like moving. Not ever. Not in a million
years. Not until something has changed in him. A new adaptation. An elegant head. A solid chin. Trustworthy eyes.
The door opens.
Starting to film, McGraw centers on the door. If in some backward countries a photograph steals your soul, what the hell would
this do? He could wreak havoc with the tribes of the rain forest, all without destroying a single thing. Videoman.
After a while, two secret service agents emerge, their habits ingrained in everyone's head: dark glasses, plain suits, fingers
in ear, mouths to sleeve; they take the stairs with suspicion. Then the First Lady emerges, waving hand first, followed by
a genuine smile of It's-great-to-be-here-in-the-Galapagos. She pauses at the top, her khaki outfit perfect for these parts.
"Holy shit." A jolt moves through Lewis. "Are you getting this?"
"Yeah."
"It's a miracle." Moving closer to the camera, wanting to be sure it's working, trying not to step on Zev. "I can't believe
this. It's better than the Challenger"
The First Lady descends.
"Get the legs."
"Sure."
"But don't make it obvious."
She's wearing shorts, maybe for the first time since becoming First Lady. Not maybe, definitely. Because look at those legs!
Blotchy white skin, some of it curdled, pouring out of khaki. Thighs as big as pillows. Bowed knees that probably haven't
touched since she was a teenager. Shins? There are no shins, only calves.
"I had no idea," Lewis says. He feels something on his shoes. It's Zev resting his head. "I knew about the ankles. But not
this."
The First Lady greets the people waiting below, shaking hands with dignitaries and accepting flowers from a nervous girl,
a tiny thing, who starts to cry uncontrollably, her face creased with five-year-old misery.
"The networks are going to shoot themselves for missing this. So are the tabloids. I bet they open with this, or maybe not
this, but they'll get to this sooner rather than later. Inside Edition, Hard Copy, they'd start right here. Get some fitness experts, maybe the Buns of Steel woman. Or Richard Simmons could do his shtick,
driving up to the White House in the Deal-a-Meal van."
The First Lady picks up the girl, the girl's arms wrapping around her neck, the girl's face burying under her chin. They rock
together.
"Really go tight on the gams."
"How tight?"
"To the flesh. I want to see everything."
McGraw zooms in with terrifying speed, pushing aside any distance with a mere touch of his finger.
"I want to see the pulse in the varicose veins," whispers Lewis, his body beginning to sway. "The horror of cellulite. Tighter.
Tighter. Tighter."
The crowd cheers.
anaconda wrap
Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither the immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor sexual perverts, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God.
—1 CORINTHIANS 6:9
THE CAR PHONE RINGS, doesn't really ring because nothing rings anymore. Instead, it chirps like an electronic grasshopper.
Saul Messer knows this sound well. In his sock drawer at home he has five cellular phones, each of a different size and capability,
all outdated. I mean, what are you meant to do with these hi-tech gizmos? You can't just throw them away, too expensive for
that, and it's tough to hand them off to friends as gifts. (Friends get pissed at the assumption that your has-beens are their
will-bes.) Maybe give one to your daughter, but she's only nine and you don't want to spoil her. Nothing worse than jappy
kids yapping away like little
enthusiasm at cheapest cost.
Lewis thinks about moving the camera back a bit and placing some children in the lower foreground, blurry yet eager, the tops
of their heads bouncing with glee. But what's the point? Right now he doesn't feel like moving. Not ever. Not in a million
years. Not until something has changed in him. A new adaptation. An elegant head. A solid chin. Trustworthy eyes.
The door opens.
Starting to film, McGraw centers on the door. If in some backward countries a photograph steals your soul, what the hell would
this do? He could wreak havoc with the tribes of the rain forest, all without destroying a single thing. Videoman.
After a while, two secret service agents emerge, their habits ingrained in everyone's head: dark glasses, plain suits, fingers
in ear, mouths to sleeve; they take the stairs with suspicion. Then the First Lady emerges, waving hand first, followed by
a genuine smile of It's-great-to-be-here-in-the-Galapagos. She pauses at the top, her khaki outfit perfect for these parts.
"Holy shit." A jolt moves through Lewis. "Are you getting this?"
"Yeah."
"It's a miracle." Moving closer to the camera, wanting to be sure it's working, trying not to step on Zev. "I can't believe
this. It's better than the Challenger"
The First Lady descends.
"Get the legs."
"Sure."
"But don't make it obvious."
She's wearing shorts, maybe for the first time since becoming First Lady. Not maybe, definitely. Because look at those legs!
Blotchy white skin, some of it curdled, pouring out of khaki. Thighs as big as pillows. Bowed knees that probably haven't
touched since she was a teenager. Shins? There are no shins, only calves.
"I had no idea," Lewis says. He feels something on his shoes. It's Zev resting his head. "I knew about the ankles. But not
this."
The First Lady greets the people waiting below, shaking hands with dignitaries and accepting flowers from a nervous girl,
a tiny thing, who starts to cry uncontrollably, her face creased with five-year-old misery.
"The networks are going to shoot themselves for missing this. So are the tabloids. I bet they open with this, or maybe not
this, but they'll get to this sooner rather than later. Inside Edition, Hard Copy, they'd start right here. Get some fitness experts, maybe the Buns of Steel woman. Or Richard Simmons could do his shtick,
driving up to the White House in the Deal-a-Meal van."
The First Lady picks up the girl, the girl's arms wrapping around her neck, the girl's face burying under her chin. They rock
together.
"Really go tight on the gams."
"How tight?"
"To the flesh. I want to see everything."
McGraw zooms in with terrifying speed, pushing aside any distance with a mere touch of his finger.
"I want to see the pulse in the varicose veins," whispers Lewis, his body beginning to sway. "The horror of cellulite. Tighter.
Tighter. Tighter."
The crowd cheers.
anaconda wrap
Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither the immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor sexual perverts, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God.
—1 CORINTHIANS 6:9
THE CAR PHONE RINGS, doesn't really ring because nothing rings anymore. Instead, it chirps like an electronic grasshopper.
Saul Messer knows this sound well. In his sock drawer at home he has five cellular phones, each of a different size and capability,
all outdated. I mean, what are you meant to do with these hi-tech gizmos? You can't just throw them away, too expensive for
that, and it's tough to hand them off to friends as gifts. (Friends get pissed at the assumption that your has-beens are their
will-bes.) Maybe give one to your daughter, but she's only nine and you don't want to spoil her. Nothing worse than jappy
kids yapping away like little
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