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report I spoke of the virgin-hunters—those boys with private initiative and enterprise are keeping the houses open. Now, I’ve gone on record as opposing this wheat deal—the Reds are going to furnish our boys with girls whose aim will be subversion, pure and simple. [Hansen was aghast at the implication in that remark.] Mr. President, what I propose is a countermeasure to substitute for the wheat-for-women exchange. I suggest I make a few phone calls. If we gave those houses protection, we could peg prices to put them in reach of the family man. In addition, the boys in State would be less prone to peddle our secrets to the girls in the Red consulates.”
    As he sat down, Dalton Lamar shouted, “Mr. President, I recommend that convents be declared national reservations under the jurisdiction of the Department of Interior.”
    “Sir,” Mr. Powers was ruffled, “I consider that suggestion sacrilegious.”
    “Mr. Powers,” the President interposed, “the feasibility, not religiosity, of ideas is our concern here, but I will undertake no alliance with the underworld, overt or sub rosa. Insofar as the trade arrangement with the Soviets is concerned, the émigré females will be here under work visas, and their presence will be constitutional. As for the nunneries, Mr. Lamar, your proposal violates the Separation of Church and State clauses of the Bill of Rights… Now, gentlemen, I wish to clear the table for a heavyweight solution. Put your guard up.”
    Suddenly, his listeners seemed to lean toward the President.
    “We have all pondered this problem,” he said. “I have thumbed Gladstone until the pages curled, probed the Code Napoleon, the Koran, and the Talmud seeking a precedent to guide me, but wherever I sailed over the seas of law, my bottom eventually dragged on the shoals of the American Constitution. Since I have taken a solemn oath to protect that Constitution, I have decided not to run for reelection in November.”
    Amazed groans of “No! No!” came from his cabinet appointees, but the President continued unperturbed. “Whatever happens, gentlemen, we must not lose our power base, the Presidency. Yet, with me as President, we are hampered by a strict observance of constitutional law. What we need, gentlemen, is a dynamic young candidate unfettered by tradition who will boldly carve new guidelines around the Constitution.
    “The new plan proposes a single male candidate, endorsed by both the Republican and Democratic parties at one joint convention, to run against any possible combination of female candidates supported by the FEM Party. To explain the core of our new plan, I give you one of its chief engineers and architects. Admiral Meriweather Primrose.”
    When the admiral rose to applause, Hansen felt a glow of pride in this five-foot six-inch man who cast a six-foot five-inch shadow. Primrose spoke tersely. “Gentlemen, in order to determine a suitable candidate for the new plan, I turned the President’s suggestions over to my Naval Plans and Operations under the code name Operation Chicken Pluck. The Secretary of Defense and I are so confident of success with Operation Chicken Pluck that we have set aside, at least temporarily. Operation Queen Swap.”
    “What is Operation Queen Swap?” Mr. Powers asked.
    “A military operation and closed to discussion… Operation Chicken Pluck, gentlemen, resolved itself into two phases: The first phase involved finding a candidate before the scheduled date of the joint convention. Finding a candidate demanded an analysis of the components of that capability designated ‘male sex appeal,’ a strategic objective hampered by a scarcity of intelligence in the area. From analysis of the written records of known great lovers, we arrived at Lothario X, a psychological profile of the Great Lover. Once we had found the living Lothario X, we knew we would have a candidate who could draw the votes of all uncommitted and uncontaminated females. With this man, we