“We’re at war!” he shouted, hyper-kinetically upset.

            “Of course we’re at war,” I said. “Bush diverted resources from Afghanistan to invade Iraq. Been at war five years.”

            “Not that war,” said Marshbaum. “This is bigger. China invaded our homeland. We’re under attack. And thanks to a 5–4 decision by the Supremes, me and Ole Betsy will defend my home from the Commie invaders.”

            “You been watching too many recycled Cold War films?” I asked. “China is our trading partner. They loaned us billions to reduce our exorbitant unbalanced budget. Their factories are producing goods for the American consumer almost as fast as Washington politicians have been producing verbal diarrhea.”

             “The Chinese have launched rockets at us. We don’t have much time.”

             “I didn’t see anything on the 24/7 news channels about an invasion.”

            “Of course not,” said Marshbaum, “they’re too busy tracking celebrity weddings, break-ups, and drunk driving arrests.”

            “Even the worst journalist would pick up on an invasion of the U.S,” I said.

            “Yeah,” he replied sarcastically, “like they picked up on the PATRIOT Act violating a half-dozen constitutional amendments? Like they figured out the Bush–Cheney Oil and Screw Corp. lied to them about Iraq, the environment, the housing crisis, the economy, and how to make barbecued burritos?”

            “But war with China?” I asked skeptically.

            “China!” he said authoritatively. “Largest Communist country in the world. More than a billion people. Largest Army in the world. While the politicians focused on being nasty to Cuba, which has only 11 million people and hardly any weapons, the Chinese have been getting ready to invade us. It’s been a sneak attack that started years ago. Some of the best students in American colleges are Chinese. They’re the cadre for the take-over, and it’s less than a week away!”

            “I assume you have evidence,” I asked, playing along with Marshbaum. After all, I had no idea how deadly a blunderbuss could be, especially if I was in the same room with one.

            “They’re fireworks!” I told my naive friend. “Fireworks! Jefferson, Madison, and the patriots started the revolution so we could eat hotdogs and potato salad, then shoot off a color spectacular and get a three-day weekend.”

            “For a journalist, you’re even denser than I thought.” And so he walked me through his logic. “Ninety-Eight percent of all fireworks we use for July Fourth are made in China.”

            “I see no evidence of war here,” I said. “The Chinese also supply most of our toys and just about anything that winds up at the Dollar Store.”

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