DAY ONE OF RECOVERY

by Peter Breschard 

One of three men perched on the grammar school's small stage smartly lifts himself from his seat to address the gathering.

Welcome to MAGA GONE. You can call me Richard and I'd like to extend good wishes to all of the first-timers here today.

Richard raises his arms, gesturing either a wide open welcome, or somebody just kicked a field goal.

Give yourself a hand!

The group neither enthusiastically nor unenthusiastically applauds.

Yes, all of you, give them a hand!

Hands. Hands. And even more hands. It's virtually a reunion of Dutch Cousins.

All of us, I guess, we're about 35 or so here tonight. There's quite a few more than the usual number of newcomers this week. Understandable that.

All us old timers know what it's like stepping through these doors the first time. It can be a frightening experience. This is one hell of a decision you've made. We know. We've been there. We know. So welcome!

Again with the "Good Kick" signal.

You first timers are the bravest folks I've seen all day! Welcome!

Stand up and let us all take pride in you!

Richard encourages all of the newcomers to rise and they stand up. Count nears a dozen. Many nod, appreciating these warm welcomes.

All right. As you probably already know, this chapter of MAGA GONE, Make America Great Again But Just Don't Tell Anyone How We're Doing It, meets right here every week at 7:00 on the dot.

Of course we discourage tardiness but we also know life goes on outside this room, so, do your best to get here on time. But know you'll be welcome whenever you arrive. You've got enough to worry about without worrying about us.

A smattering.

Good. Now just settle in.

We've got coffee and some snacks in the back and the restrooms are, well, just follow the signs. Or the cosines. Not to go off on a tangent. Or anything like that.

Some small smutted groans.

Right. Sorry. Yeah, the jokes get worse every week but at least they all add up.

No rim shot. No rims.

No more Math, Rich.

Scattered calls from audience. Your call. Feature an identifiable face isolated from the rest?

Well thanks. That's just about sums it all up.

A gentle almost silence.

Anyhow let's get down to the business of what we're doing here. Why we're all here. And will probably be here for a while.

WE FUCKED UP

WE LISTENED AND NODDED

WE LET IT ROLL ALL OVER US

WE ACCEPTED BY NOT OBJECTING

Silence with a cleared throat. Too much?

And if you have any doubts as to why you're here, remember how much you, and maybe whoever you live with, contributed to the shit show we're all living through right now.

Some approving noises.

Thank you. And thank all of you for coming tonight. We've got a lot of work to do. A lot of cleaning up. Harry, the floor is yours.

Polite recognition and general agreement. Mumbling? Or clear verbal responses?

Hey guys, You can call me Harry and I've been with MAGA GONE for over 5 years now.

I gave up on the Chump and the rest of his clown show after he'd been in office about a year. Took me a while to connect to this group but I sure am glad I stayed looking for others who'd also tossed their little red caps into the trash. Reminds me of Mao's Little Red Book, but that's something else entirely.

Let me give you my reasons for being here.

Harry has the group's attention.

NUMBER ONE: let's start with something I think we agree on. Just about all government officials and politicians in powerful positions are crooks. Maybe there's one or two out there who isn't getting rich off the public dime, but they're rare. And a lot of us are here because we realized there is a big difference between a cop getting a free lunch at a diner and the children of their "lord and savior" on Earth's daughter and son-in-law getting billions of dollars from the Saudis. Just a little bit of a difference. A couple of billion. We all know that, but some still haven't realized what it means. Telling your barber to take a little off the top is a whole lot different than having him shave your head bald.

Mostly attentive silence?

NUMBER TWO: Which leads into my second point. There are way too many MAGA extremists. There are way too many of them willing to execute members of my own family who had an abortion. You know it's true. These folks are rabid. I mean it's one thing to post something online, it's another thing altogether to fire bomb a city because you think there's too much litter. MAGA is just too full of way too many crazies. Damn they are dangerous. Owning a rifle is one thing. Owning a couple of dozen machine guns and the makings for a bunch of IEDs is another.

A couple of "you bet brother"s. And possibly a woman's voice is heard. Yes/No?

NUMBER THREE: They claim to be all pro-American and America first and all that but MAGA leaders will sell out to foreign interests for a dollar. It takes a bit of time to realize just how much all those MAGA corporations are basically controlled by foreign oil money. Hell, the oil companies themselves are pretty much run by Middle Eastern money. The MAGA leadership wants corporations, foreigners, to control this country. MAGA's leadership has been bought and sold to those foreign aliens I don't even know how many times.

Preach.

NUMBER FOUR: Life isn't professional wrestling. It's ain't the WWE. Village idiots shouldn't be in positions of power. You know it's fun watching everybody throw chairs at one another on a Saturday morning but you also have to know when it's time to hire somebody to pick up the garbage once a week, you don't want somebody whose skill set is knowing how to beat their own chest, throw chairs into the ring, and scream and cuss at their opponent. Choosing somebody who's done the job, or at least something like it, before should be taken into account before hiring them. It's our goddamn tax money they're throwing away when they put total incompetent a-holes into places they have no place being.

NUMBER FIVE: We're not racists

Amen to that, here and there. Or something less religious?

Democrats talk down to people. Trump told us lots of horrible shit but he never called us or our family "deplorables". It sure is real easy not to like Dems. But...

But pardoning cop killers? I know this was the last straw for some of you newbies here tonight. Cruds who beat up cops trying to protect the Congress? Are they frigging kidding? If a bank guard dies from a heart attack after a bank robbery the same way those cops did following the attack on Congress, those robbers are prosecuted for murder. The maniacs who broke into the Capitol should be tried for murder the same way anybody is if someone dies while they're committing a crime.

Serious applause? Stunned silence?

We're not racists. Not the way people think. Sure maybe we're not found fond of blacks. We don't like ghetto shit. Boy. But it's more like we don't like different shit. We were raised with white people, for the most part. So we're used to the white way of doing things. Hell, I've only had jerk chicken once in my life. It's the strange that bothers us. Black, brown, yellow, most of us don't care. As long as you don't serve food that's not steaks, burgers, and all the fixings. And we don't mean to get any more bad off financially than we might already be. Keep the cheap seats away from us. Poor people of any type probably want what we already have.

My mother's older brother, my uncle Phil, didn't get shot and killed fighting Germans so some foreign punk can stand next to the President of the United States and act like he's the richest Nazi who ever lived. Take your heil Hitler salute and shove it where the sun don't shine, you little piece of shit.

Applause and some whistling. One or two"Fuck 'em"s.

Here's Jake.

Harry sits down

Usual response.

Jake moves to center stage. Microphone or no?

Both parties are wasting our time on insignificant shit like checking passport boxes for sex orientation. Only 17,000 people a year are affected by that. 17,000 out of something like 350 million. That's one out of every 20,000 people. Why are they wasting our time? Both sides screaming constantly about little crap. Wasting our time on something so insignificant and at the same time in our country and around the world it's the hottest ever. I want my grandchildren to live in a world where the temperature is under a hundred degrees all the time. Who gives a flaming whatever if somebody you will never meet checks some stupid government form?

I'm old enough to remember when Los Angeles had the worst smog outside of India. We fixed that pretty much even when the oil companies said smog was bull hockey.

And all this abortion crap. We know we're not going to have our 14 year old daughter have a rapist's child. Ain't going to happen. No way. It's time we came to decisions like that and let other folks know how wrong they are.

We're tired of people thinking it's all our fault. It isn't. Most our families weren't in this country before the damn Civil War. We couldn't have owned slaves.

Our families worked their asses off just to stay alive. Like everybody else's families. Maybe we got helped a little more than most but we never had any say in all that. We're working like everybody else.

Just give me a slice, a beer, and let me watch the game on a big screen. What's the matter with that? I know it's not that simple. But all the money is going into the hands of people who just want to keep us down and us never looking up to see how good things actually could be.

This is America, damn, and the people taking our money aren't the people who have nothing. They really are not the real threat. It's the people who already have it all and just want more and more and more who reach into our pockets and take what they want.

I hope no one in your families ever gets real sick and the hospital expenses just wipe you out. I've seen it. I've been close to that being me. It's bad news. And Black Rock and the rest of them just make more and more cash for each one of us who just dies before the insurance companies shell out to pay for your real needs. I don't know. I don't know. Thanks.

Jake sits.

More enthusiastic or more sympathetic responses?

Rabble roused or hearts touched?

Richard stands.

Remember, we don't want you to do anything rash now that you've come to understand what MAGA really is. We've heard stories of guys, mostly guys, who realized what idiots they've been. How much harm they've done, and they've gone to either hurt themselves or blown up a building or something really stupid.

No, Sir.

None of that here. None of that. And if you ever get to feeling like, like you want to hurt yourself, or hurt something else, or somebody else, you just pick up your cell and call that number we gave you when you walked into this auditorium.

That's why we're here tonight. We're here to help each other get through this and maybe help some others along the way.

Remember there's coffee in the back.

Half stand. Some begin quiet conversations with their neighbors. Small groups?

Richard.

Well, we've been here a while and you old timers know how to make the newbies feel right at home. So anybody else have something to say?

Public silence? Private voices.

OK. Then coffee and snacks in the back, like I said. I know some of you guys will be heading over to the Roadhouse later on so that's about it.

Some from the group leave the auditorium.

Next week same time same place

We'll all help America be great again but this time without MAGA.

Have a good night folks.

Close or continue?

END

WHERE’S LAURENCE HARVEY NOW THAT WE NEED HIM?

Take today as an example. Did the nine-to-five without breaking a sweat or breaking into song, so that’s a victory. Had a fine dinner and later as I was sprawled out on the couch an odd assortment of concepts congealed into something somewhat frightening.

They really don’t need him anymore.

“There’s no way he’s going to be this organization’s Presidential candidate.” Beppo had control of the room. “As a matter of fact, there are many of us who consider him an extreme liability. More than anything else, Americans hate horse thieves. And they really, really will fire the wrath of God on a, lying, horse thief. And a whole bunch of our people are seeing him that way now.

“Let’s face it, he’s had his run. It’s time to turn this fucking limping, screeching, obnoxious liability into the best kind of asset we can.”

“How’s about he sicks it out? Comes down with malaria or something?” Kitchen appeared lost in thought.

“Definitely considered. Definitely. His royal fatness, I am sure, hosts numerous ailments which might do him in at any moment but, although illness would very well turn this situation into an asset, we think we might have a way to eke out even more mileage from the old boy.”

“Inheritance baby resigns and anoints another?” Glastonbury intoned the obvious.

“You know Fats isn’t gonna go for that.” Ripper snorted while straightening his tie.

“We have discussed this. As was mentioned, it’s never going to happen. Knowing full well that if you don’t win your fate will be much more dire than losing an election for some boondock mayorality, you know he’s not bowing out. He’ll fight on to all of our detriment. Allow me now to share the thoughts of the committee.

“You all know I am a fan of old movies. Listen for a minute or two.” Beppo smiled and eyeballed his notes.

“Now here’s how it happens. And might I say here that most necessary elements for this endeavor are already in place, patiently awaiting their time.

“The committee has spent many months reviewing any number of plausible scenarios. We do our darnedest to cover at least the bare minimum of possibilities. These particular circumstances were guesstimated very, very high, and this scenario is the culmination of our best efforts.

“All would come to an end soon after our clown emerges victorious at the convention.

“This past Tuesday an outspoken transsexual, whose outward appearance is that of a woman, was brought in by our men and is currently under, let’s say, heavy sedation until that time when it will be needed. That’s Number One.”

“They don’t by any chance happen to know each other, do they, Beppo?” Kitchen again.

“Actually I’m not privy to such detail. Compartmentalization, they say. I’ll bring it up. Back to it then.

“Number Two is ex-Iranian military. Ranger type or at least their equivalent. Sharp. He’ll be fallback in case something goes totally astray but we imagine more beneficial outcomes if our primary, Number One, takes the fall.”

“Will any blues be injured?” Wall was always concerned about her troops.

“Not if everything, or at least most everything, plays out the way we think it should. Only one fatality on site.”

“Will any friends be there?” Kitchen was leading this inquisition.

“Three, I’m telling you, three of our people will be on stage with him. Couldn’t believe it when they told me. Three.”

“Out of how many?”

"Mostly the rest of the family. Some high ranking media echoers. Like I said, three, getting into position should be relatively a bit easier.

“Logistics, transport, local enforcement, already in place.

"Still working on a go signal. Certainly a minor issue. His roundness doesn’t read very well so we can’t use cue words inserted into his victory speech. I’ve tried and failed to imagine how much blather that would be but, as some might say, words fail me.”

“Is he that much of a liability? I always considered him moderately amusing. Does it have to come to this?” Rayon decided to make their presence known.

“Our research, and unanimous consent of committee with their considerable experience, say yes. He has to go in a way most beneficial to our organization. Research sees him as a loser and his name alone costs the down tickets almost everything. With him gone, in our maximalist fashion, we will still lose the big one but the harm to down tickets will not be fatal. It’s do or die time.

"Sometime after the nomination and toward the beginning of his acceptance speech, we don’t want it to be at less than five but no more then ten minutes. If it were up to me I’d be as close to five as practical. Who needs listening to his shit more than necessary?”

“Is Tip Top here tonight or are we going to have to wait until morning to get the picks? “

“Wait until morning. The markets will be just as open for business as they ever are. I’m told none of TipTop’s tips are particularly time sensitive.”

“I’m guessing Number One will encounter some heroic blue and not-survive?”

“Covered in, what do they call it? GSR. Gun Shot Residue. Which will match the weapon used by Number Two.

“Number Two will be found dead, somewhere little known and far away, within the week. Another knotted end.” Beppo grinned.

Continuing: “Two shots. Clean. Head. Chest. Suspect dies in firefight with our courageous blues. Any further questions?"

“And I’m assuming one of our three friends on stage with him will jump in and, cradling Fat’s volleyball of a head in their arms give a speech for the ages.” Oddly, Kitchen actually said this with a wide smile.

“Absolutely. You’re getting it. You’ve seen the movie. This will be a speech the Committee has been working on for nearly a year. Just in case events like those we now have might occur. At the end of the speech with the babbling, drooling, dribbling, dying candidate’s head in the new candidate’s arms, the entire country will be moved to tears and we might as well enthrone our speechifying friend as the new POTUS then and there; bloodstained battered but ready to defend our United States of America! Vote for Me and god bless America!

“And finally. And finally after all of these years. She will, as she cradles our fat, inane martyr to her breast and calls on America to avenge this attack on Christianity and our Homeland, Sarah Palin will, after all of our blood, sweat and tears, become the next President of Our United States!

by Peter Breschard

Take Pride In Your Right to Arm Bears

There are thousands of faceless heroes out there on the Internet and on the airwaves. It’s about time they came forward and claimed the recognition they so justly deserve.

These brave soldiers battle for their and others’ freedoms each and every day. When events occur which will forever justify their labors, they are all too often forgotten while the spotlight shifts to other more easily accessible subjects.

Still they sit at their keyboards, or call in to their radio programs, or attend their rallies. But now things have certainly changed. It’s time for all of you who have worked so hard, to get your own special brand of recognition. It’s time for you to come out and take a bow. It’s time for all American citizens to see who you really are and to appreciate your life’s work.

Step forward and claim your just rewards, all you fighters for easy access to weapons of mass murder. You are truly the unsung heroes of the slaughters in El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio.

For years you have fought against any law which might have caused the killers the slightest inconvenience in obtaining their instruments of death. “There must be no impediment for mass murderers in obtaining firearms!” you so loudly proclaimed. You cited one section of the Constitution so often that many forgot the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. All important must be the ability of those chronically deranged to obtain weaponry with the ability to tear through the flesh of their fellow citizens in as rapid a manner as possible.

You are truly those chosen by the Lord. 

Shout it from the rooftops! Put ads on TV! Be a guest of FOX News! Let the world know that you were the ones who helped grease the path for the killers to take so many innocent lives! Let the country know that without you and your constant battle for easy access to weapons of war there quite probably would never have been these massacres! You have stood up for your version of the law, and who cares how many lives have to be snuffed out in the process! El Paso and Dayton only prove your point that America needs guns in the hands of the deranged in order to be safe and free!

Shout it loud that you few, you happy few, you band of brothers, have fought long and hard for the rights of the homicidal to purchase assault weapons so they can rip apart the bodies of children, women, and men as they go about their everyday lives. 

Take pride in how you work for free for those who profit greatly from the manufacture and sale of machines whose sole purpose is to end life.

Your brilliance should be celebrated by the world. Feel no guilt for the many murders you have aided and abetted. Take pride in the blood in the streets. 

You are a true work of genius. 32 bodies were added to your list in recent days. You should feel such pride. Let no court accuse you of depraved indifference.

Where would we all be without patriots like you?

-----------------------------------

AND THEN WE WIN

It’s been a while since I last put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, or chisel to rock, but at the moment I think I might have something to say. Usually I try to write about the moral depravity of corporate Democrats, but since Chump has placed his orange ass all over this country, making jokes about those in power has been so easy just about everyone is doing it.

For a change I will not indulge in my dentured biting satire and tell all of you how to finally get Medicare for All passed. 

STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW TO PAY FOR MEDICARE FOR ALL

Theories about how to divvy up money are like assholes, everyone has one and they all stink. Once the Republicans and corporate Democrat hacks start talking about money, you’ve already lost the battle. You’re talking about meaningless economic theories which leads to a Tower of Babel from where you will never return. Leave money out of the conversation.

HERE ARE THE TALKING POINTS TO WIN EVERY MEDICARE FOR ALL DEBATE

#1) BODY COUNT

Approximately 59,000 Americans died during the Vietnam War.
Since 2014, the first full year of the Affordable Care Act, until now, academic studies have estimated that between 90,000 and 200,000 Americans have died from a lack of health insurance or from inadequate health insurance.
So, in the last five years almost two to four times as many Americans died from the for-profit insurance industry as Americans died in Vietnam.
Medicare for All would have prevented all the deaths from these causes.

#2) GUILT

If you oppose, or do not fully support, Medicare for All, you must bear your share of responsibility for those Americans who will die because they remain uninsured or under insured. Approximately 30,000 of your fellow citizens will die this year and all following years for these reasons. 
If you oppose Medicare for All you must bear responsibility for your words and actions.
Medicare for All will bring to virtually zero the number of these preventable deaths.

#3) WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?

The problem isn't paying for Medicare for All, the problem is 30,000 Americans needlessly die each year because we don't have it.

#4) DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?

What kind of a human being are you if you let 30,000 Americans die each year rather than support Medicare for All?

#5) YOU ARE GUILTY AS SIN AND YOUR ASS IS GOING TO HELL

In opposing Medicare for All you are actively keeping Medicare for All from preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans each year. You, and people like you, bear responsibility for these deaths. Hope you have a good night’s sleep.

#6) IF YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT’S ON THE MENU, GO EAT SOMEWHERE ELSE

If you have a better plan for preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans a year, I'd like to hear it. And how many people will unnecessarily die every year from preventable causes if we go your way?




And that should shut them up but good.

These are the talking points. Go get ‘em, kids. Watch those idiots squirm.

Pro-Obamacare Demonstration Outside White House

“This was today’s headline, ‘Healthcare Advocates Demonstrate Outside White House Demanding Obamacare Be Expanded.’ Following a protest outside the White House today, we had a chance to sit down with one of the organizers. This spokesperson agreed to our interview only under conditions of complete anonymity. We agreed to his request. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“You are most certainly welcome. We just want to reassure you that our viewers will only be seeing a vague outline on their screens and your voice is being electronically altered so that it will be entirely unrecognizable.”

“I appreciate your efforts.”

“So, there were a few hundred representatives of your organization marching outside of the White House today. What message were they attempting to deliver to President Trump?”

“Well, Charlie, as I’m sure you know, the demonstration in Washington was all about Obamacare and why it should be kept in place. We’re hoping to convince President Trump and the rest of the Republicans just how much it would hurt the health insurance business if Obamacare were to be repealed.”

“But aren’t the insurance companies you represent complaining about how much money they’re losing? I mean every day we read about companies withdrawing from the exchanges? What about that?”

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, what business person in their right mind would ever say they’re making too much money? If you want to raise consumer prices, anyone savvy about business will always complain they’re not making enough money. I mean, come on, Charlie.”

“And the companies withdrawing from the health insurance exchanges?”

“There really isn’t any need for more than a single insurer to be on any individual exchange. When one organization withdraws from one market, you’ll see a complimentary withdrawal on a different exchange. Some might call this monopolistic; we prefer to call it efficient.”

“But why the need for this demonstration now?”

“Obamacare has a long history. Even when this program was first called Romneycare, Republicans have had to travel down a very narrow road. You have to realize, Charlie, that Obamacare is the largest raid on the U.S. Treasury ever made. When the Affordable Care Act was signed, the health insurance companies were basically given a blank check to charge as much as they wanted along with millions of new customers who were being forced to buy their product. As long as the consumer had no idea how much the Federal government was being charged, they really didn’t care what the costs were. As long as enough Republicans and Democrats were in our pockets, they didn’t care either. We’re probably talking trillions over the next decade.”

“But what about all those who couldn’t get insurance before Obamacare?”

“Charlie, that was the finest brand of snake oil ever sold. Even before Obamacare, everyone could buy health insurance. For a price. The price for those with situations like pre-existing conditions was exorbitant. Out of the reach of almost all individuals. All Obamacare did was shift that cost to the Federal government. The insurance was still out of control expensive but the consumer never saw the bill. Big checks were sent to the insurance companies along with millions of new customers. There were absolutely no cost controls. We were in pig heaven.”

“And now with Republicans threatening to repeal Obamacare?”

“Grass roots Republicans are demanding the repeal. It’s like a fever. It took a very long time to convince Democrats that Obamacare/Romneycare was actually a Democratic program. Unfortunately, along with that, a lot of Republicans seem to have forgotten that it’s actually a Republican program. Those folks were out there today to remind them.”

“And your prognosis for the future?”

“Charlie, the health insurance companies I represent are fairly certain Obamacare will remain. There’s far too much money being made for the entire program to disappear. We’ve just sent a few hundred of our interns out to the White House today to remind everyone who’s writing the checks.”

“So today was a gentle nudge?”

“Yes, indeed it was, Charlie. They can call it Obamacare. They can call it Romneycare. They can call it Trumpcare in big, gold letters. We don’t care as long as they don’t cutoff our pipeline to the Treasury. Wake up, Republicans. We’re the ones who send you all your money.”

“Well, that pretty much says it all. Thank you for being here. And thanks to all of you for watching. Goodnight.”


----------------

The Goldman Sachs Samaritan

A three year-old SUV blows a tire, skids into the break down lane, then flips over twice. Its four passengers are smothered in air bags. Then there is silence.

A driver who’d witnessed the entire incident from a hundred yards behind, pulls over, checks out the situation, shrugs, then gets back on the highway and drives away. He is late for a speech he is scheduled to deliver on “Living Well is the Be All and End All.”

A second motorist, on the opposite side of the road, pulls over as well. Observing the accident scene and the first driver’s actions, she also pulls back on the highway, certain that events will work themselves out without any assistance on her part.

Then a third driver arrives. She maneuvers her vehicle as close to the accident scene as seems prudent. She is the Goldman Sachs Samaritan,

Knowing every crisis is an opportunity, the Goldman Sachs Samaritan’s first call is to her lawyer. Following a brief conversation regarding potential liability (during which the Goldman Sachs Samaritan’s lawyer dispatches a junior associate to the accident scene), the GSS formulates a plan which in the long run should both benefit not only herself but, if lucky, the accident victims as well. The GSS’s second call is to a private ambulance company three towns away in which the GSS holds a minority interest. She is assured an ambulance will be dispatched to the scene as soon as one becomes available and the accident victims will be transported to a for-profit hospital in the next county where the GSS sits on the board-of-directors.

The GSS looks up from her phone and notes the steady puffs of smoke emanating from the unfortunate vehicle in the ditch.

Another short call to a tame local newspaper reporter will lead to proper documentation of her heroic act. Nothing like some free publicity to promote the GSS’s businesses and the political causes she espousers.

The Goldman Sachs Samaritan visualizes how, after the private ambulance and press arrive, she will be photographed pulling the accident victim from their car. The ambulance service’s logo will be prominently displayed as she delivers the unfortunates into the caring hands of the private medical system representatives. You can’t buy advertising like that. She closes her eyes to rest, awaiting her fellow team members’ arrival.


While the GSS is getting her ducks in a row, “Crisis Can Be A Profit Center Too!”, a battered Toyota pulls in behind her. The mature woman behind the wheel also assesses the situation and immediately calls 911. The emergency operator assures her an ambulance, police, and other appropriate first responders will soon arrive on the scene. This Socialist Samaritan makes her way down to the overturned vehicle and helps the bruised passengers out of their vehicle, just as puffs of smoke begin appearing above the engine.

As the county ambulance, police and tow truck drive away from the accident scene, the Goldman Sachs Samaritan is awakened by the sound of someone rapping on her window. She looks about and wonders where the crashed car and its people have gone. The private ambulance driver and the tame reporter are both screaming at the GSS about her sending them out here for no good reason. The Goldman Sachs Samaritan screams back.

This only goes to show how no good deals go unpunished.

-------------------

What You Wish For

A room that isn’t any larger than 10 feet square. Two metal folding chairs face one another. Acoustical tile ceiling. Windowless. One door. Might have been a storage closet in some previous incarnation but found its true vocation being what it is now: a minor interrogation room for those whose assumed intelligence remains of dubious import.

Jeremy’s interrogator does not lift his eyes as the prisoner is escorted to his seat. The interrogator is a pale man in his late forties or early fifties. Short gray black hair receding a good way back on his scalp. Clean shaven. In process of flicking his cigarette into a paper cup on the floor beside a chair leg. Beige chinos and a red short sleeve golf shirt. He easily could be a manager for any big box store in any mall anywhere in the United States. 

Jeremy sits and waits. His interrogator consults memos attached to his clipboard. He lights another cigarette. Disposable lighter. Black. Brown filter on white cigarette tube. Yellowish, not perfectly aligned large teeth.

“Cigarette?” Right handed. Stubby digits. Good deal of hair on fingers and back of hand as well as on wrist.

Jeremy has been trained to notice things. Little things. Big things. He wishes he’d taken courses in identifying American regional accents. His interrogator sounds like every television newsreader. Could be from anywhere. Wait for more data.

“No, thank you.” No reason to let your opponent set the agenda. Begin the interrogation yourself. “Why am I here?” Jeremy doesn’t have many tools at hand.

Flipping through a few more papers, the inquisitor points his cigarette at Jeremy and finally raises his eyes to the man opposite him. “You thought you won, didn’t you?”

Although Jeremy didn’t know the accent, he certainly recognizes the tone. It was the voice of an eventual winner who, after suffering a temporary loss, has come back even stronger than before to teach the peasants an unforgettable lesson.

What had been an overwhelming victory suddenly became a crushing defeat. This is America. Change is supposed to come through the vote. When the people speak and elect their representatives, their choices are to be accepted. None of them expected what happened once Bernie actually won. The man who’d been elected President had promised a revolution. He’d delivered a victory but the counter-revolution was something nobody anticipated. 

“In case you’re wondering, we have no interest in any of your contacts, or in anything you can tell us, for that matter. You being here is simply routine. Nothing else.”

Jeremy thought his more vocal opinions probably contributed to his ending up here. They hadn’t anticipated the coup. Nobody on his side had fully appreciated how deeply entrenched the corporations had become within the military. Only a few days after the election results were certified, before Bernie could take the oath of office, the incumbent declared martial law, nullifying the election and Bernie was soon behind bars. The corporate military was now slowly rounding up his more vocal supporters.

Another terrorist plot against free market capitalism had been thwarted. Jeremy is learning the new drill.

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Sale - AK47s - Free Lobotomy with Purchase

John was wondering why he was where he was. After all, he’d purchased the weapon weeks ago.

“And when was it, exactly, that you decided you needed an automatic rifle?” Filling out a form, Marsha, an intake worker, concentrates on her computer screen, making no eye contact with the new admission.

“I don’t know. I saw the ad online. You know. Don’t we all have the right to protect ourselves?”

“Yes. Of course. And how were you planning to use this automatic weapon?” John couldn’t see Marsha’s fingers on the keyboard but he could hear faint clicks as she typed away.

“Well, like I said, I’ve taken it to the range a couple of times. Just to get the feel for it, you know. Ammunition ain’t cheap.” John shifted his butt on the metal chair. He wondered how long this would all take.

“No, it is not. Now, John, I’m sure you didn’t purchase the AK47 just to fire it at the range. Am I right?”

“Certainly not. Not at all. A man needs to protect himself and those close to him. It’s my right. I bought this particular weapon for self-protection.”

“So, John, when you think about your AK, what do you imagine doing with it? Do you visualize real targets when you’re at the range? And did you read the advertisement for what you were buying? ‘Sale - AK47s - Free Lobotomy with Purchase’” This time Marsha looks up from the screen and meets Bob’s eye. “You know what I mean.”

“Sure do. Mostly when I’m firing off rounds I try to concentrate on the targets. But sometimes, you know, I do imagine a whole bunch of fellas running at me with guns, trying to kill me and take my stuff. But I’ve got the AK and I mow them all down. Superior fire power wins every time.” John misses the feel of the AK47 in his arms.

“So, John, you think there are armed, dangerous, people out there who are going to attack you and the best way to deal with the problem is to shoot and kill them?”

“Roger that.”

“And the people you imagine attacking you? Who are they?” Marsha looks at John with all the compassion she can muster.

“Well, sometimes they’re terrorists and sometimes they’re minorities trying to break into my house and sometimes it’s like they’re zombies or carrying some other disease. Citizens need to protect themselves.”

“I understand, John. Is that the reason you carry yourAK47 around town and to the mall and places like that?”

“Absolutely.”

“And like I asked before, did you understand exactly what you were getting with your purchase?” Marsha smiles her sweetest smile.

“Absolutely. I bought one fine combat rifle.”

“And what else, John?”

“Oh, that.” John nods. “I was wondering exactly who was going to get the free lobotomy though.”

Marsha removes her fingers from the keyboard. “John, if you’d accompany me into the next room, I’m sure the doctor will answer all your questions to your complete satisfaction.”

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Tax Their Sinful Ways

We in the United States need a definition of greed. We need to settle on a figure. Just how much is too much? When does accumulating some become hoarding too much? When does a fat cat become an obese cat? 

Who doesn’t like taxing cigarettes and alcohol? They’re easy targets. Everybody knows too much of either is bad for you. Our government takes a serious piece of the action to discourage gluttonous consumption of both smokes and booze and to help defer the health costs their use incurs. It’s generally accepted governments should discourage destructive, sinful behavior either by taxes, fees, or the criminal justice system. We’ve been doing this for generations. But as of late we seem to have turned a blind eye to an ongoing evil. How did greed, one of the seven deadly sins, manage to avoid paying for the damage it has done to society?

Even an occasional smoker or the most moderate of drinkers is forced to pay sin taxes. Even if you limit yourself to a cigarette a month or a martini at Christmas, you pay the same rate as chain smokers and potential DUIs. But the greediest, most avaricious, “I’d rather spit in your face than give you a nickel” billionaire usually pays less proportional taxes than the most frugal citizen on the low end of the income spectrum. With the present tax rates in place, it appears this government actually encourages greed. 

Greed is not good. Greed will forever remain a deadly sin, one of the top seven. When a billionaire boasts about his accumulated wealth, it’s like a glutton rhapsodizing on how he’s eaten non-stop for the past forty years, while addressing an audience that hasn’t had a solid meal in weeks. Somehow the United States, this allegedly Christian nation, has forgotten that obscene accumulation of wealth is remains an abomination unto their Lord. Fortune and Barrons and The Wall Street Journal might as well be kiddie porn in the way they egg on their rapacious readers. The message of this culture promotes ripping off as much as you can from your fellow man. 

Greed needs to be defined. A dollar limit needs be set. If you earn more than this country’s President for an extended period of time, and you keep accumulating more and more, you might be a greedy redneck. If you never worked a day in your life, and you clip coupons purchased by your grandfather while sipping champagne in a Park Avenue penthouse, you probably are an avaricious prepster. If you work for a Fortune 500 company and earn more than 20 times the income of its lowest paid employee, you almost certainly are a greedy sinful scumbag.

Getting back to the sin tax part. How does a society discourage its citizens from engaging in avaricious behavior? When does reasonable accumulation become greed, a deadly sin? It was only a few decades ago that this country decided taxing greed wasn’t necessary. All that “trickle down Economics” rubbish gave rise to a tax rate which presently allows the obscenely rich among us to accumulate unbridled wealth. Following this trend, those citizens not in the top half of one percent of income will soon be left with next to nothing. 

Where do you draw the line? How’s this for a modest proposal, every dollar taken in over one million dollars a year (averaged) should be taxed at a 90% rate. Certainly the vast majority of citizens will agree that if a person believes they need more than a million a year to survive, they’re being a bit greedy. And as we all know, sin taxes are meant to discourage evil behavior.

Greed is hard to recognize at times. Like pornography it might forever remain a judgement call. Greed falls under the “I don’t know exactly but ‘I know it when I see it’ rule”. But pretty much everyone can see grasping for more than a million bucks a year is pretty damn greedy.

It’s long past time to seriously tax the greediest among us. It’s time to help curtail their evil habit. Greed will forever remain a sin. In so many ways. 

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Elect Maggie Thatcher President of the United States

Consider the under represented majorities in the United States, in the world for that matter, and pretty soon you’re going to come across the most ignored majority of them all. Sure, they’ve been getting a lot of broadcast media time these days, but that’s simply a way to placate their aspirations  with shiny objects while the real power remains where it always has been. Having television shows named after them and hiring many as roaming extras is one thing, but what’s been missing is real power. Political power. It’s time to rectify this egregious deliberate oversight. It’s time for a great representative for the unrepresented.

Former Prime Minister of Great Britain, Maggie Thatcher fits the bill. Even dead she remains one of the all time great Corporate Fascist leaders. Nobody ever had more friends in the financial communities. The Clintons don’t even come close. She won office on her own; not following in the footsteps of husband, father, or brother. She remains an icon for the dead, women, and Corporate Fascists all around the world. As the first dead, foreign, woman President of the United States, she will represent the three great under represented majorities, women, foreigners,  and the dead.  Corporate Fascists have occupied the Oval Office for a long time.
 
Let’s face it, everyone votes for their own kind. Men vote for men. Women vote for women. Whites for whites. Blacks for blacks. Latinos for Latinos. Like attracts like. Doesn’t matter how many people they’ve droned or how much Wall Street money was funneled into their charities, when people see a chance to vote for someone like themself, just about everyone takes it.

Obama is a classic example. He mouthed the proper words and looked right, so people voted for him. Nobody checked him out. He turns out to be the best thing the Corporate Fascists could have ever dreamed. Obama charmed and didn’t offend, bingo, he’s elected.

Now’s the chance to really dig up the vote. Listen, we’re all going to be dead one day, so why not elect someone who has our future interests as their own?

Maggie Thatcher as the first dead, woman, Corporate Fascist president covers all the essential bases. Thatcher’s a woman, a Corporate Fascist,  and she’s dead; so she peleases our future selves, international business, the feminists and the misogynists all at the same time. Hillary Clinton only pleases the feminists and the Corporate Fascists, and Jill Stein only the feminists. Who’s the obvious choice?

As far as Maggie not being a United States citizen, no worry there, after all, once we’re dead, everyone becomes a de facto citizen of the world. And that beats all the experience any Secretary of State ever had.

At the very least any dead candidate can be assured of winning the Chicago vote.

Vote for Maggie Thatcher! Who cares how she’s acted, as long as she’s one of us!

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The New Health Care Marketplace - "Nice Rash, Buddy"

Published by
Dissident Voice

“Nice rash, buddy.”

Saul believed Wednesday morning would be the best time for his visit to the New Health Care Market.

“Hey, $55 dollars and we’ll have that urticaria off your face in no time at all. Money back guarantee!”

They must think Saul is a real greenhorn. Everybody knows whoever has the first stall near the auditorium’s entrance was sure to be peddling overpriced, shoddy product.

“Don’t listen to him. $40 and we’ll have you all looking like new in half an hour.”

Another one. Saul understood they figured he wasn’t just browsing, but he was beginning to feel like chum surrounded by ravenous sharks.

“Johns Hopkins trained. Not like any of these state university assholes. Johns Hopkins. Where else you going to find a bargain like this? Number one medical establishment. No finer school represented in this entire bazaar.”

Saul kept walking as two belligerent doctors screamed and waved diplomas at one another. Fisticuffs looked likely to ensue, so Saul and his rash just kept on moving through this health care maze.

The New Medical Marketplace came into existence two years previous. The World Court ruled for-profit health care to be both a human rights violation and a possible war crime. The existing medical industry, pharmaceutical companies, medical insurers, as well as for-profit hospitals and doctors, all folded up like the cheap suits they were. Not a single bank was willing to front money to organizations subject to civil and criminal proceedings certain to bankrupt them. Without lines of credit, the for-profit health industry disappeared almost overnight.

Saul had enjoyed observing the ensuing medical/corporate shit storm. Hospitals and private practices which had utilized most of their manpower filling out insurance forms, soon brought their investors to their knees. Insurance companies, their corporate model based on percentages above cost, began focusing on real competitive business rather than seeing how high they could drive medical billing. Used Cadillac and Lexus SUVs soon flooded the market. Saul, since he drove so very little, and the price was even better than right, indulged himself a little and purchased the last ridiculously large gas guzzler he was sure he would ever buy. He only used it short trips around town. For serious driving, he now rented.

For the vast majority of citizens, the demise of the for-profit, insurance driven medical community was a great bonus. Eventually certain corrupt diehard congressman would lose their seats and Medicare for all would become the law of the land. For now, until public funds were available to hire all qualified medical professionals as public servants, these true free market medical farmers’ markets fulfilled a need.

Saul made his way through the crowd, eventually he spotted the booth where Dr. Bob, the Falafel King, peddled his wares. Saul had done his homework. He knew the Falafel King provided good service for an extremely reasonable price.

Dr. Bob remained one of the few medical professionals at the market still employing a nurse. “He does great work. There’s always enough money to share.” In and out of Dr. Bob’s establishment in under forty-five minutes, Saul agreed with the prescribed treatment and the fifty dollars out-of-pocket included a month’s worth of the prescribed drugs. On his way out, the satisfied patient purchased enough falafels for dinner that night. Dr. Bob certainly knew how to keep a business running.

Driving home in his gently used SUV, Saul did feel a moment of compassion for the doctors who these days had to scramble for every nickel. Eventually they would all come around and accept salaries topped off at what was paid to U.S. Senators. Until they learn the lesson of what a real marketplace is, rather than the rigged insurance racket they’d help perpetrate for so many years, these M.D. gurus would have to share mall space with the local farmers. Until they learned their real value to the community, they’d have to sell their services by the side of the road just like everybody else.

Saul pulled into his garage and returned to the warmth of his home, a satisfied medical consumer looking forward to a tasty dinner.

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