Vera Borisovna recently began working as a hat check girl at the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym. As you know, the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym is part of the underground complex known as "The Shadow Government", or as the people who are members there refer to it, "Cheney's Bunker" or just "The Bunker". Previously, she had been waitressing at her parents' West Hartford Restaurant, Le Metropol. Known more for its money laundering than for its supposedly Russian Cuisine, Le Metropol closed shop when Vera's grandmother drowned in the Borscht under very mysterious circumstances.

October 11 Dear Computer, In order to promote Iraq as "A Magical Democratic Getaway", the State Department hit on the idea of having an Sunni clown by the name of Salaam McDalaam as a mascot. If you hadn't noticed, the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym has become the proving ground of a lot of stupid ideas by a lot of stupid people. I had to put on a chador and pretend like I was his assistant. "Take my wife...please..." he said in this thick Middle Eastern Accent. You could see the Homeland Security Guys gritting their teeth. But it wasn't until he turned to me and said "I will now make this American Imperialist Bitch disappear," that they actually jumped him and dragged him away. October 10 Dear Computer, I don't know what compelled him to do it. There's speculation that it was the influence of Arnold Shwarzenenegger, the once bodybuilder whose recent victory in the California gubanatorial recall happened rapidly and without precedent. Perhaps he had gotten the idea that a candidate lacking any political base could in fact beat the odds through buffness. In any case, presidential hopeful Dennis Kucinich snuck into the weight room. Someone should have told him not to begin at 300 pounds, because the weights pinned him like he was some kind of gangly insect. In the true spirit of the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym, the trainers let him stay that way for a few hours, until he cried out, "If you don't let me go, I'm going to piss all over this spanky parquet floor." At this point, one of the trainers lifed the bar while another rolled Dennis into a little ball which I'm sure would have been used for Curling if it hadn't sprouted legs and run away. October 9 Dear Computer, My boss told me today that I'd better hurry up and learn the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym Theme song. The tune was easy. It's your basic C chord change to G sharp then back to C kind of nonsense. But I'll be damned if I'll ever learn the words. Originally, I found a sheet that had the first line in the song read "Onward Christian Soldier." When I sang it for my friend Maya, who works in the dining area of the gym, she said "No, no...you sing it 'Pre-emptive strikes are bolder.'" "That's really different," I said. Then another one of the waiters who had been listening, said, "No, no...they changed it to 'We're younger now, not older." Neither of us believed him, which was good, because Bob the bus boy dragged us over to the bulletin board where the words were posted. "We're hungry now, let's order." And the next line read "at the Baghdad McDonald's." "Come on," I protested. "What kind of crappy lyrics are those?" "Look, we don't make them up, we just sing them," said Bob. "How can everybody sing the same song when the lyrics keep changing?" I said. "To tell you the truth," said Maya, "we kind of mumble them ." "Really?" And then the dining room staff proceeded to mumble to the tune of the the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym theme song. At that very moment, the boss walked by. He stopped, put his hand on his heart, and with tears brimming in his eyes, said, "My God, that's beautiful. Now get back to work, you miserable pieces of crap." October 8 Dear Computer, Condi Rice has the determination of a bull. She has nothing but a Phd, some time as an executive board member of a large corporation, time as a provost of an ivy league university and three decades of piano lessons, yet she plans on whipping Iraq into shape. Go, Condi. October 7 Dear Computer, It was a classic moment in the Tri-Lateral Commission Gym. Right smack in the middle of a game, former ambassador Wilson stood in the middle of the court and asked, "Which one of you crooks stole the basketball?" Behind him, a little voice said, "I stole the basktball, you big prick." Wilson turned around and promptly flew headlong over Karl Rove, who had conveniently positioned himself in just such a fashion that Wilson's knees would buckle over his left shoulder. Everyone had a good laugh. Except Wilson. The California recall election has been playing on the television in the lounge for the past week and a half. Nonstop. Like a really bad top forty hit from the seventies. Tommy Shondell's Crimson and Clover. Thank goodness that's coming to an end. If I hear that gawdawful Austrian accent of Shwarzenegger's one more time, I think I'll scream. The recall is a bit like the trick Rove just pulled on Wilson. Except the entire state goes sprawling. I'm glad I don't live there. October 5 Dear Computer, Before every game played by the Saudi Heat basketball team at the Tri-Lateral Commission gym, their mascot, Grover, streaks across the floor, getting the entire audience into a lather not unlike one would find at a revival meeting. "Cut taxes! Cut taxes!" the crowd yells as the mascot surgically removes the heart from a small hobo in effegy. He then rips the hundred dollar bills out of his headdress and hands it to the opposing team. The Heat have yet to lose a single game. October 4 Dear Computer, Outside the subway station leading to the bunker, there's someone that Grover Norquist has labeled, "The sad face of things to come:" This poor oppressed individual needs our government's money in order to live a life which guarantees a place on one of the stationary cycles at the Tri-Lateral Commission gym. To let him grown any fatter would be a crime.