Everyone in America loves organics. Everyone in Sweden and/or Norway loves organics, which is why everyone in America loves them, too. I would draw you a diagram, but I am out of grease pencils after laminating each page in the last three years’ worth of Harper’s Bazaar and drawing handlebar mustaches onto all the models, then wiping them off and replacing them with goatees, then wiping those off and finally settling on muttonchops and fu manchus with alternating black eyes and eye patches. (DO NOT TRY TO PATENT THIS IDEA– I have already submitted it to the patent office, and your pleas and wails will get you nowhere.) Anyway, I am sure that my scientifically calculated vectors and arcs would only confuse.
Since I take careful stock each day of the top newses in Sweden and/or Norway, I saw this organics market infiltration before it ever lapped up like so many used syringes on our shores. I know of the proud lesbian city of Shakebao, the snowstorms that target Scandinavian preschoolers, and how Swedish and/or Norwegian princes are often voted as the rural worlds’ “hottest hicks.” And I also knew decades ago about the Swedish and/or Norwegian virus that we call “organics.” Thus, I was able to position myself in such a way, giving lectures and publishing papers, so as to step into the coveted role of Organic Appliance Certification Tsar with no opposition. Except for Tom Daschle, but after his verbal snafu got him ousted from SoDak, he’s had no luck with the rest of our fair country. As the old aphorism states, “As goes the Lower Dakota, so goes the Nation.”
I thought about going for the position of Wheat King. I briefly considered Friar of the Free Range. But the thought of sullying my well-tended hands with foodstuffs or, god help me, latex gloves was enough to send me swooning. Mr. Polly followed me from room to room with an IKEA-brand chaise for weeks to catch me with each successive faint as I macerated the problem in my mental spirits. Before too long, I found the answer– I wasn’t looking far enough into the future. I had to look beyond what the Swedes and/or Norse were doing– I had to become the visionary, the trailblazer, the maverick, the McClairvoyant that could see that distant horizon that the Scandinavians were probably only three quarters of the way through developing, and thus hadn’t begun reporting on yet. I would deal with appliances! And maybe electronics! I knelt before a woodland altar and salted a bowlful of slugs to the glory of Thor.
Within the year, I was a member of the Cabinet. You may remember my appointment– it was all over CNN, MSNBC, and of course, C-SPAN. I dominated lower-screen scroll bars for months. I was bold with my decisions, going with my gut first and my gag reflex second. American scientists scoffed at my rulings, only to be put in place once the original Swedish and/or Norwegian was translated. I daresay I ushered in America’s second green revolution (quite literally, when I gave the organic seal of approval to a number of eco-terrorist devices that remain in use by high profile Earth First and rogue Acorn groups to this day). Let this be a lesson to you, the next generation of government employees: read the Swedish and/or Danish news. (DO NOT READ THE NORWEGIAN NEWS. That is my territory. Sniff it.)