you might say—and that’s what we call the
good old CIA: the Family.
“(When the prodigal son creeps back from
Peking—Information known. Expel barbari-
an.—well, the Family will forgive him, if he is
sincere in his heart on a lie detector: ‘Well,
we’re going to take you back.’ The old ham
fixes him with blue eyes like steel in sunlight.
‘Just don’t ever let us down again.’)
“From here to eternity, the old game of
war. Where would the Family be without it?
So we can whittle off a little something to
keep the royal family projected in Limey
Land, can’t we now? So the Queen needs
more money? Well humm . . . call a story
“Just how are we slanting this, B.J.?”
B.J. (doodling muscle boys): “Nothing
new. Just keep it going. They do need more
money, otherwise they will go down in the
same spiral as everybody else and they
wouldn’t be the royal family anymore, could