To give you an idea how pure Asa's little wife Ava is, when she first heard the term "dirty book," she assumed a religious text had gotten soiled. Her view is so fine an example of how a woman should think that it bears repeating verbatim.
"Only something religious deserves to be called a book. So if it get dirty that means someone has been much too careless of God's precious words. I believe it's these women who read romances who become so careless as to allow the good book to become soiled. Romances are much too intense, and expose the wary reader to such a host of new ideas that she will soon begin to neglect her wifely duties. I don't care if they are great art, they should not be read, least of all by women, who, being more impressionable than men, and less intelligent, are bound to become slovenly. A woman's place is by her husband's side. God made that perfectly clear when he created Eve from the stone Adam had chiseled. Of course the Jews tried saying it was his rib, but we know that's impossible because God would never have allowed the first man to walk around without a shirt. That would have been sacrilegious."
"My dear," Asa reminded Ava, "you are a minority of one, if what I've been reading lately is correct. The majority of women seem to imagine that they are the equal of men and may do - and read - just about anything they please, with or without their husband's permission!"
"Wherever did they get such an idea?" Ava asked.
"From a magazine," Asa replied.
"Why would anyone allow such a magazine to be published?"
"Oh, my dear, you wouldn't want to jeopardize the First Amendment, now would you?"
They had a good laugh over that one, for they are both true-blue American and realize that of all things the First Amendment to the Constitution is the greatest thorn in this great nation's side. Asa himself expressed it best when interviewed on Cable News by Lord Marcus Gimplesby of the BBC; so let's take a quick look at that all-important broadcast.
Cable Table Talk, with Lord Gimplesby, today on location in Washington, DC, where a "major pop phenomenon has been quietly taking place." We'll return to Lord Gimplesby and his guest after this important public service message.
A man in a long white frock is addressing you. "Should you find feces outside your front door, don't panic. As frightening as it is, you now have a place to call for help - a friend in need. In a moment we'll give you that number; but first, a word about filth. Filth is the cause of just about every disease we can think of. It is estimated that every three seconds someone spills filth where it doesn't belong. If it happens on your doorstep, call 78-Filth. Don't wait. Don't give it a chance to infect your household. Call at once. That number again is 783-4584: 78-Filth. This message was brought to you by the American Pathological Refuse Collection Association. We take the fear out of filth.
"Lord Gimplesby here. We're talking with a man who is quite possible the single most influential person in the Western world today. Asa: you're said to have the ear of the President as no other man alive has it. Why? How did this come about?"
"It comes from being an American."
"But there are millions of Americans. They don't seem to have the kind of access to those in power that you do."
"Millions of Americans, yes - but you can't be sure how many are good Americans - let alone which ones they are. The President of the United States needs a man he knows is impervious to subversion; a man he can rely on absolutely to stand firm against each and every assault on our freedom; a man who, you might say, has a sixth sense about what is good and what is bad for America."
"Is there a subversive behind every tree - what?"
"There was a time when that was all too true. Things have improved somewhat; but you still had better keep your eyes peeled when you walk the streets of DC."
"More subversives per square mile in DC than anyplace else - what?"
"A fair assessment."
"What can a free society, realistically, do - First Amendment and all - what?"
"Amendment-schmendment! The security of this nation comes first, last and always."
"You're not suggesting we curtail free speech, are you?"
"A person who has something worthwhile and patriotic to say doesn't need a special law. I think you'll find that those who worry about 'free speech' speak nothing but subversion and sedition - and why should our Constitution protect that? Show me where anyone has a right to advocate the destruction of this great land?"
"That's what's happening - what?"
"By the 'free speechers' - most definitely!"
"What of the press? Don't forget, they too are protected by the First Amendment."
"Why should the press be concerned if they have nothing to hide?"
"But surely, sir, you don't advocate a system like the Soviets had, where the press was merely a mouthpiece of the Communist Party?"
"We're a free country, not a Communist dictatorship - and I mean to keep it that way. We don't need a First Amendment - they do. Not us. I suggest, Lord Gimplesby, that we excise this cursed amendment from our blessed Constitution - with all deliberate speed - and dispatch it to Russia. With our love."
"With our love," Asa said. But, of course, what else would he say: what man alive has greater love in his heart? Love of God, love of country, love of all those worthy to be called his fellow man. That's Asa. And no one knows it better than the President of the United States, who is at this very moment on the phone expressing his gratitude for Asa's profound humanity.
"Asa, I liked what you said," the President is saying.
"Thank you, Mr. President."
"And I couldn't agree more about that darned - "
"Uh-uh, Mr. President!" Asa reminded his great leader to watch his language.
"Sorry, Asa, but I just got finished being briefed about...well, about pornography, Asa. So please forgive my language. I tell you, Asa, if it weren't for that blankety-blank first amendment, I'd have those dirty books off the shelves and in the garbage faster than you could say 'naked.'"
"That's a word I'd never say anyway, Mr. President."
"I don't blame you one bit, Asa. When you've seen some of the filth they peddle, you don't even want to hear the word again! People without clothes on, doing God knows what!"
"Please, Mr. President, lower your voice if you don't mind. I don't want the little woman to hear any of this. It might upset her."
"Forgive me, Asa. It's been a rough day. I know one thing: I sure would like to rip that First Amendment out of the Constitution and send it to Russia; it'd make my job a lot easier. What they could have been thinking of when they put it in there is beyond me. But then, I guess they were naive and innocent and had no idea what foul use would be made of it. Well, no use worrying over it, it's too late to do anything now, I guess."
"Not necessarily," Asa suggested.
"What do you mean?"
"Where there's a will there's a way."
"A way around the First Amendment? Oh, I wish there were, but I'm afraid not."
"It sounds similar to a little problem we had back home. Let me work on it awhile, Mr. President, and I'll get back to you."
"Asa, if you could solve this one, the American people would be eternally grateful to you. Everywhere they turn, thanks to that cursed bit of madness, there's dirty books, dirty pictures - why, Asa, I've even started dreaming dirty things, that's how bad it's gotten!"
"Say no more, Mr. President. When so great and moral a man as yourself starts being affected, it's high time to act."
"God bless you, Asa. And it goes without saying, the government is at your disposal."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
The government at his disposal? But the government's at fault this time: what good will it's services be when it's hamstrung by its own laws? No, Asa will most likely have to act through the private sector this time - which is precisely what he had to do "back home" when the smut peddlers tried to smuggle their filth from Detroit into Highland Park.
It was a cloudy day, the gray of Lake Michigan had ascended to the sky. Asa happened to be walking his lovely wife Ava to a church social near the border. Suddenly he noticed something suspicious at the Rammersham Building, part of which is in Detroit, part in Highland Park; it was built as a joint venture, to house cultural activities, but through the years had become an embarrassment due to the highly questionable events Detroit tried to book - such as a fund-raiser for the guerillas of Central America, which prompted Highland Park to declare itself off limits to anyone who had attended a cultural event in Detroit within the last nine months. Asa's keen eye told him exactly what was going on: a man who had just stepped from inside the building was carrying a book with a naked picture on the cover; and his keen intellect told him exactly what it meant: a pornography ring was using the Rammersham to bring illicit materials into Highland Park, which had recently banned any material deemed un-American. In a flash, Asa had pieced it all together: the peddlers enter from Detroit, where anything is legal, go through the corridor, and come out in Highland Park with their filth. His first thought, of course, was for his wife; he stepped in front of her to shield her from the monstrous contraband being brought across the border. Next he made for a telephone, all the while keeping the little woman covered. The thought of his wife seeing a naked picture sent shivers up and down his spine. How anyone could be so inhumane as to expose a woman - especially someone's wife - to a naked picture was more than Asa could comprehend; God only knows what hideous doilies she might crochet if she should ever see it. But Asa did not let even this horror unnerve him. He knew he had better understand this pornography ring - and fast - if he were to stop the spread of this monstrous evil. He didn't panic; his aplomb kept Ava from panicking. He reached the telephone and dialed the police, as calmly as if this were nothing more than a traffic violation.
"This is Asa," he said, crisply and clearly, for he knew the importance of accurate communication. "I wish to report a sex maniac on the loose. He has just crossed over from Detroit, via the Rammersham Building. He is wearing overalls, a plaid shirt, and a blue beret. He was carrying a dirty magazine, which he tried to expose to my wife. Can you send someone immediately to apprehend him? And I suggest a SWAT team as backup."
Needless to say the police complied with Asa's plea for help. A squad arrived within ten minutes. There was a shootout; the maniac was killed. Fortunately, no one else was harmed: what the police took for a weapon in the maniac's pocket turned out to be an all-day sucker.
"It may have been the candy that made him go crazy," the police chief speculated. "Anything you must suck on all day to enjoy cannot be good for you. Poor wretch, he's better off this way."
"The rest of us surely are," Asa noted. "The problem facing us now is how to deal with the ring itself. We've got to find out who's behind it before Highland Park is completely overrun with sex maniacs."
"I've got a hunch," the police chief said. "I want this sucker analyzed," he told his men.
His hunch paid off beautifully. Within forty eight hours the case was solved, the pornography ring broken up, the good citizens of Highland Park saved. The local news broke the story on a Wednesday.
Action-Reaction. The one and only newscast of the day. Brought to you by Carl Smithers and Sons, mercenaries to the western world. For those special occasions when guerillas drop in unexpectedly; when no matter what you do or where you go, you find yourself under attack; when you think the subversion will never end - call us, Carl Smithers and Sons of Chicago, Milwaukee and the Twin Cities. We'll dispatch a team of highly trained mercenaries to your trouble spot. Reasonable rates, discounts for senior citizens, fully bonded. And if you act now, you get - absolutely free of charge - this ten by fourteen picture of Rambo, suitable for framing. Try us. Carl Smithers and Sons. We take the worry out of counterrevolution.
Big Nick the Sportscaster demonstrating how to eat jerky while camping Reenie the big-eyed weather girl showing you a chart of what the weather would be like if you lived on the dark side of the moon.
Now the news. " Today a definite connection between pornography and terrorism was revealed. A seemingly innocuous grocery item - the famous all-day sucker - has become the key ingredient in the city council's case against the infamous pornography ring attempting to infiltrate Highland Park. These suckers are manufactured by appointment to his majesty the Sultan of Morocco, long suspected of harboring terrorists within his borders. Through a complex series of holding companies, authorities were able to trace the sucker found on the dead man to a plant in Managua, Nicaragua. Police now say there is no doubt that some of the nudes in the magazine confiscated from the dead man are of Hispanic origin. They speculate that one of the models had the sucker with him during the photographic session - traces of tungsten filament were found embedded in the sucker; and that he may have given it to the deceased in exchange for certain favors. Furthermore, this same model fits the description of the nephew of the Sandinista propaganda minister. We'll keep you posted as developments occur."
Developments occurred almost daily. The City Council realized it had no more jurisdiction over naked Nicaraguan male models than it had over the Sultan of Morocco or the Sult Water Toffee Candy Company which manufactured the sucker; so it was compelled to abstain from further action. Asa, committed to the complete eradication of evil from his beloved Highland Park, vowed to continue the battle. "I will not quit till the ringleaders are in jail," he swore.
"What will you do?" asked Ava, looking up from her knitting.
"I'll have to turn to the private sector. I have a little plan I'd like to present to the chairman of United Fruits and Beverages. I understand he's a personal friend of the President."
Asa made his call, got the green light and, like taking candy from a baby, stopped the dreaded menace right in its tracks. The male model was lured to a lush tropical forest, under pretext of taking naked photographs; a hundred all-day suckers were glued to him; he was thrown onto an anthill. The propaganda minister was photographed in a compromising position kissing an American flag and was ousted from his post. The Sult Water Toffee Company lost its contract with United Fruits and Beverages and had to close. The Sultan of Morocco was overthrown by a free market contingent of the ruling party. The Mayor of Detroit was pressured into sealing off the Rammersham Building, thus ending the threat of pornography forever in Highland Park. The ringleaders of the porno terrorist front, as it turned out, were a couple of ultra-liberals who had argued for the right of drug stores to sell dirty magazines. The evidence, though circumstantial, was exquisitely logical: any advocate of smut was ipso facto guilty of peddling smut, therefore could reasonably be assumed to be the leader of a porno ring - and, by implication, of a terrorist ring. They were arrested and thrown into a cell with a dozen sex maniacs, demonstrating conclusively the connection between pornography and sexual abuse. Asa, for his efforts, was given a trophy by the United Garment Workers.
Clearly, Asa is no stranger to the insidious horrors of pornography; he knows all too well the terrible cost in human lives. He knows, too, that filth will destroy this great nation he so dearly loves if it isn't stopped, because once it gets a toehold it will slowly corrupt everything - and everyone - it touches. He is resolved, therefore, to do battle against this beast, this demon from the sewers of hell, no matter what, or how long it takes. And, what's more, he has a plan. He is on his way at this very moment to the offices of International Conglomerates Unlimited, where he will seek help. The President of that fine cartel is a staunch conservative, therefore a patriot, so Asa knows he can be counted on to put national interests above his own.
"Asa, this is an honor," the President of ICU is saying.
"Thank you," Asa replies.
"What can I do for you?"
"It seems the Sandinistas are up to no good, Mr. President.
"The western hemisphere will never be safe till they're destroyed, Asa."
"Now they're bringing pornography into the country."
"Oh my God! And I have a teenage daughter too! They've go to be stopped. But how?"
"Pornography is nothing more than communist propaganda and terrorist activity. Anyone who believes in the dear Lord Jesus knows how sinful and disgusting the human body is; but neither communists nor terrorists believe in God - at least not in the right God. What we have to do is force the Supreme Court to see pornography for what it is: terrorism, pure and simple. Unfortunately, that cursed First Amendment stands in our way."
"Damnable law - I mean darned law - no, I mean doggone law! It should be done away with. You don't need an amendment to protect your right to advertise."
"Indeed you don't. In fact, the First Amendment doesn't really exist. Our founding fathers were much too patriotic ever to hamstring this great nation with such an obscene law. I've concluded that it was the Sandinistas who added the First Amendment. I suspect they broke into the National Archives and spliced it in. Now we have to splice it out. Can your Peebles Papers come up with some parchment?"
"I think we can."
"Good. Meanwhile, I'll see what I can do about getting permission to enter the Archives after hours. I think you just might be amazed what you'll find on the back of that bit of parchment containing the First Amendment: I'll be willing to bet there's a little something in Spanish on it - most likely a revolutionary slogan or two."
"Well, I'll be! Who would have thought it?"
"I would have," replied Asa.
And, indeed, Asa is one-hundred percent correct: for who but he would have thought it? Who else could have cut so precisely through the illusion to get at the underlying reality? What other man on this planet has demonstrated so often and in such varied circumstances so keen a logic as to sift through the most wildly disparate data to find the common denominator? In a word, is there anyone else alive who would have thought to look behind the First Amendment for a revolutionary Sandinista slogan? The question, of course, is purely rhetorical: we already know the answer. Asa can see connections which no one else has ever seen; this is precisely what makes him so valuable in the never ending fight against subversion, terrorism and other un-American activities. This is why the President of the United States listens when Asa speaks.
"Why certainly, Asa," the President is saying on the phone, "you're more than welcome to peruse the National Archives any hour of the day or night. Rules don't apply where national security is concerned, you know that. So, be my guest."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
In the dead of night, Asa, along with the President of International Conglomerates Unlimited and a team of parchment splicers from Peebles Papers made for the U.S. Constitution to try and undo the seditious work of the Sandinistas. Very carefully, the First Amendment was excised and a blank strip of parchment spliced in its place.
The next day Asa called a news conference, during which he revealed the fake document. He showed everyone the First Amendment, then turned it over. The press corps gasped at what it saw. In big, bold red letters were the phrases "Viva el Revolucion!" and "Yankee Go Home!" Then Asa outlined the trail of events which led to his discovery.
"I suggest," he made his recommendation, "that since the First Amendment was a fraud, the Congress, with all dispatch, frame a law declaring pornography an act of sedition. And furthermore, since all pornography appears to originate in Nicaragua, a declaration of war against the Sandinistas would be very much in order. Anything less exposes this nation to the deadliest threat it has ever faced. We are a free people, given to peace and a sense of brotherhood. We must not lose our identity or our direction. Whatever it takes."
By week's end Asa's recommendations were history. Pornography was outlawed once and for all: never again would decent citizens have to live in constant fear of encountering a naked picture. Nicaragua was reduced to a junk heap littering Central America's coast. Owing to the sudden outbreak of disease - clearly a result of the pornography trade - the American Pathological Refuse Collection Association was contracted to haul Nicaragua away.
"What will we put in its place?" the President of the United States wondered one evening.
"How about a used car lot?" Asa suggested.
"I like it, Asa. It's bold, innovative, and above all it'll give the region a free market look. Yes indeed, Asa, I do like it."
"Thank you, Mr. President."
(Incidentally, the bogus First Amendment, which a vigilant Asa saved the nation from, was stuffed into an envelope and sent to Russia.)