bizarreville

Suddenly, its seem there is a nouveaux love affair with the bizarre teachings of Mao among some of the Port tack whacks.  Mao?  Killer of millions of his own people?  That Mao?  Huh?

Turns out, it was all a big mistake.  They weren’t quoting that nutball Mao…they were quoting Delwood Mou, the old red-neck who lives down at Slobson Creek.  Yeah, that guy.  The one who once said:  “Showers?  Baths?  Who needs ’em?  What a waste of our precious water resource!”  Or who said, “The only thing those f#&@*!  deer understand comes from the barrel of a gun.”  And…”When you put the power in people’s hands…well they’ll probably just fart if off.”   And finally, “Class stuggle is a problem in society… because some people like to go to classes, and others like me like to ditch.”  That Mou.

Mou is garnering more and more followers to his profound teachings.  He wrote a book chock full of his favorite sayings, but he forgot and left the original manuscript in a public restroom at the bus station.  Next morning:  gone.  He put out a $3 reward if anyone found it, but so far, not so good.  But with all these Libs now quoting Mou, he thinks the manuscript may surface.

Mou got much of his material…the provocative sayings, philosophy, and pretzel logic…from his grandfather, Papa Hooma Mou, who was a deeply religious preacher and part-time bass singer in a funky country music quartet.  Critics called the elder Mou “off key”.  The elder Mou would often bellyache about large corporations and capitalism.  They say that he was bitter, ever since being fired from Flummox Inc. for excessive absenteeism, sleeping on the job, general laziness, and using bad language.  “No way did I ever use bad language,” Papa Hooma Mou replied.  “I was flippin’ railroaded.  And that’s the problem with big companies…they’re out to fire all their workers…constantly on the look-out for who can we fire next?  They all need to be put in jail.”

When asked if he would prefer socialism, communism, marxism, or fascism as an alternate, old Mou would answer: “Sure.”

The Bizarreville Center for Disease Control reports that Hairy Reed syndrome is quickly reaching pandemic levels.  All medical offices are on full alert.  Of particular concern is the number of advanced cases where the thatches of hair follicle growth in throats/sinuses blocks oxygen flow, ultimately starving the brain.

The wards are filling up with babbling basketcases who, sadly, are numb above the neck.  One afflicted patient was quoted saying “Glerf flerb gok gok gok kom blubb boodoo hoohoo shiff shoe kachungahunga gwax kax.”  No one seems to be able to translate the nonsensical blabber, but it is believed to be streaming obscenities.

Another patient just sat in a corner and hummed in a continuous monotone drone.  Several patients danced around the room swatting at bugs and flies, and eating little spiders.  Another was trying to write his memoir, but all that was coming out were imbecilic scribbles and doodles.  A pitiful sight.

“It’s sad to see what hairy reed has done to these fine folks.  That lady there, the one with the fake eyelashes, is a famous Hollywood actress.  But now, look at her…tsk, tsk…reduced to a blithering idiot.  That fellow there is a billionaire…yet all his billions could not prevent him from turning into a lame brain.  That chap there is a lawyer who wasn’t too smart to begin with, but now has deteriorated to full-vegetable status.  A vegetable, for crying out loud.”

The Center is continuing its efforts to develop a hairy reed vaccine or antidote, but has had limited success.  People with robust brain tissue seem to be able to resist infection, but those with softer brain tissue often succumb.  The Center hopes and prays they can stop hairy reed before it goes too far in turning all our gray matter into gray jello.

Headline only.  More information to come.

Bizarreville medical authorities report that Mr. Ernie Muxford is indeed the first confirmed case of hairy reed syndrome in Bizarreville.  “While this is a tragic development, particularly for the Muxford family, it is good that it was diagnosed early to prevent pandemic spreading.”

Hairy reed, as most know, is an acute condition where massive quantities of hair start growing out of literally every cavity of the body.  Normally, hair initially starts wildly growing out of the ears.  In no time, it prevents the victim from being able to hear correctly, particularly distorting the sound frequency range of the human voice.  Soon afterward, hair growth starts plugging the lower cavities, causing major backup of waste products.  This distorts the internal organs and begins poisoning the vital systems in its destructive trek through the body.

Finally, hairy reed does its most destructive damage.  The follicle spread reaches the nose, sinus, and throat which begins to cut-off oxygen supply to the brain.  The victim breathes harder and harder, but cannot pull in enough air to meet the brain’s need.  The victim gets foggy and starts losing judgment.  He may begin spouting-off angry raves of pure nonsense, and/or babbling meaningless drivel.  Often the rants will be directed at things he cares most about, but in his advanced diseased state, simply knows not what he says.  He may begin advocating destructive behavior.  It is very, very sad.

Rarely fatal, hairy reed normally does leave its victim with permanent brain damage.  There have been some rare cases of reversal, but this takes years, perhaps decades, of intense anti-reed therapy and thorough poison cleansing.

The Bizarreville Center for Disease Control warns all citizens to be aware of the signs, and particularly warns those portions of the population most susceptible.  For some odd reason, college professors are quite susceptible…but, because of their environment, usually can do very little in terms of preventive measures.  Students are warned to avoid these disease carriers when scheduling their classes…and if spotting a hairy reed-infected professor, inform authorities immediately so he/she can be hauled-off, and properly quarantined.

Click over to the Simpli-tax series to see the newest update as our intrepid CPAs try to get to the Capital to stop the ornery Simplified tax legislation.

The Libs of Bizarreville decided to throw their own Tea Party at the Bizarreville Onion Farms yesterday.  They wanted to pretend to show that they, too, did not want to raise taxes.  Several actors and big-shot movie directors came, mostly in a coaching role.  There would be good media coverage so that a couple meaty populist-type sound bites could be edited to show the world that they were clued.

They put Larry the Tokin’ Dead-Head in charge of the sound system, who had unfortunately forgotten that there was no electric power in the middle of this farm field.   But, not to worry, he started up a generator to supply the power…but it was so obnoxiously noisy that no one could hear each other argue.  Yells of “Taxed Enough Already” sounded like “Tax McDuff and Freddie”.  As expected, McDuff who has already done some hard time for assault and rude behavior, got honked-off, and clobbered old Mrs. Rumpmax over the head with a protest sign.  Meanwhile, Freddie Friggett cussed out the Tea Party organizers, and was promptly handcuffed and thrown into the paddy wagon.  As the wagon pulled away, Freddie flashed the Victory sign, which some may have misinterpreted when the bars and shadows blocked the sight line of one of his fingers. 

The caterer, who was supposed to bring the tea, brought decaf coffee instead.  The main organizer, who has been on a Worldwide Anti-caffeine campaign for 2 years, spit it out…before being calmed by staffers that it was 98% caffeine-free.  One citizen suggested throwing crates of tea overboard to create a memorable act of protest.  But he was reminded that they were in the middle of farmland…so they just dumped two pots of decaf down the center-pocket of a nearby outhouse, and called it even.

Some uncoached Lib hecklers showed up and chanted:

Others dearly, dearly wanted to join in the chants, but were quickly corraled and told:  “Focus…focus”.

The 11 o’clock News last night missed all that hijinx and focused coverage on protests from a couple farmers who had just dropped by for a few minutes after fertilizing their fields.  “If you raise our taxes any more, us farmers won’t be able to afford this here fertilizer,” pointing to his boots encrusted with some sort of greenish-brown goop.  That comment drew a boisterous cheer from the crowd.  The farmers flashed jumbo smiles on their chubby faces, but started morphing into angry frowns when it finally hit home what the crowd was cheering about.

The News Anchor man was laughing so hard, the station had to cut to commercial.

Please click on the Simpli-tax button on the right to see the next thrill-packed adventure of the Enraged Beancounters, and their efforts to stifle any attempt to simplify the tax system.  Join them as they leave Vegas and head off to the Capital in a rented non-air conditioned bus

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The much-maligned Squirrel Nuts organization (SN) opened up a chapter in Bizarreville recently.  Their motto “Take a Closer Look at Squirrel Nuts” was developed to encourage more folks, particularly youths, to get more active in community organizing activities and promoting political candidates who are on their Super Squirrel list.  Organizers say Squirrel Nuts grow larger and larger every month, and would like all citizens to get a taste of it.

SN has been under enormous pressure after being caught doing illegal and illicit things at their various branches.  They were caught red-handed at the Shmooville branch when one SN worker was told to go launder some money.  He went out and bought a used Maytag.  The wet bills clogged up the drain line, and the naive SN dope called the Maytag Repairman, who promptly turned him in to authorities.  There was 89 dollars missing, which upon investigation, coincidently turns out to be the cost of a Service call.

SN of Bizarreville organizers claim that the Shmooville chapter is totally independent of all other chapters, and their alleged misdeeds do not reflect on the confederation as a whole.  “No Squirrel Nuts are alike.  Each warrants its own intimate examination.  And, yes, the ones that don’t pass the smell test should be cut off.”

SN of Bizarreville has big plans to mobilize blocks of people who have historically been shut out of the political processes.  “Take dead people, for example.  Why should they be denied their vote just because they can’t make it to the polls?  Other cities have solved this problem, why can’t we?  And it’s not just dead people, but also virtual relatives (oh yeah…remember Aunt Mulva or good ole Cousin Belferd, don’t see much of them anymore), dogs and cats (hey, they’re part of the family, aren’t they?), and people in comas.

“There’s so much more we can do in terms of reforms.  We’re even still holding onto the concept of one person/one vote!  C’mon now, other cities have been getting 5-6 votes out of people for years…just takes better organizing.  And certainly, the age-old issue with Alignment, providing that needed information, incentive, and encouragement to vote for the right candidate.  One word…muscle.  Why is this such a foreign concept?  Every time you go into a sleazy bar, you see the big galoot at the door ready/willing to crack a few heads…what happens?  People behave.  That’s all we’re talking about…just Behavior…or what we call Alignment.”

Opponents had tried to stop the Bizarreville chapter from opening, but to no avail.  They had recorded many reels of film supposedly showing bad activities, but somehow the reels got melted down into a celluloid blob.  Eyewitness accounts all developed severe cases of temporary amnesia, some of which were accompanied with severe head rashes, a few requiring stitches.  One opponent spokesman, who had sadly just lost his dog in a tragic hunting accident from multiple gunshot wounds, said that it might be best to give Squirrel Nuts a try.  “Perhaps we need to just suck it up.”

The Cox family, you know, the family that owns that big piece of land on the South end of Bizarreville…yeah, the family that has all those beat-up single-wides parked every which way in the clearings in the woods…Anyway, rumor is they’ve been buying Gold lately.  Not sure where they got the money for it…rumor is that Earl Cox, the one they call E-Cox, started up some kind of business renting-out farm animals.

His key financial advisor, who also happens to be his cousin Fred, the one they call F-Cox, said now is the time to load-up on Gold.  Said that in spite of the fact that it’s skyrocketed to $1000 lately, it could go as high as $10 thousand by this time next year, maybe higher.  “Just look at all these guys pitching gold in various advertisements, a veritable cavalcade of Gold hawkers.  They’re some of the most respected people on radio and TV…you gotta believe that gold will continue to rise…you gotta be able to trust them, right?”

Old Grampaw Cox, now irreverently referred to as G-Cox, was much more skeptical.  He remembered the last time gold shot up in price about 30 years ago.  G-Cox liquidated all his assets…which at the time was a rusted-out camper, 2 shotguns, and a paisley couch missing one leg… and bought Gold.  Soon after, the gold price plummeted, and he was broke…lived in a tent for about 5 years.  He still owns that tent…let’s the grandkids play in it when they visit.  But the kids say it smells pretty bad…say it smells like feet.

The Cox clan says that it’s different this time, versus 30 years ago.  But Grampaw thinks it’s deja vu, like some old rerun of “Father Knows Best”…it was bad then, even worse now.  He advises:  You want a good investment?  Buy good whiskey.  Of course, none of the Cox family drinks whiskey since their Conversion…….now it’s strictly tequilla.

E-Cox put aside his dream of upgrading to that shiny new double-wide, with the 2-sink restroom and the shag-carpetted kitchen.  He sold-off his closet full of ammo…well, not all of it, but a lot of it…and bought some kruggerands.   E-Cox stuck ’em in a mason jar, and buried his new stash behind a tall walnut tree out back.  Family members were worried that E would eventully forget where he buried the jar, so they insisted he write it down on a piece of paper.  He did that, but lost the paper…probably throwing it out when he was cleaning fish.

E-Cox is certain he will be rich when the impending financial collapse happens, and can then join the ranks of the hoi polloi, milling around at stuff-shirt parties, and eating pass-around hors d’oevres like barbeque buffalo meatballs on a toothpick and black fish stuff on Ritz crackers.  He said he might even buy a sport coat with one of those hankies in the pocket, “so much more convenient than having to root around for Kleenex when you really need to clean out the old sinuses.”

Yesterday, during the mayor’s speech on the new Health Care program, there was wild cheering and booing in the crowd.  The mayor would talk about so-called Death panels for old codgers, and the young people would cheer.  He would mention free, assembly-line vasectomies, and the ladies would cheer.  He’d mention that there would be a public option, that it would only be an “option” so you could keep your current health plan, and there would be much booing among those with at least 2 licks of common sense.

But the mayor knew there was much concern about the cost of the program among the non-lobotomized fringe.  This fringe element worried that a major expansion of who gets covered and associated bureaucracy would bust the budget big time.

The mayor wanted to hit this issue head-on.  So, he stated unequivocally that, despite rumors to the contrary, there is no truth to the rumor that the program will include coverage for your pets…no cats, no dogs, certainly no hampsters or cockatoos.  No colonoscopies for your shitzus, no liver transplants for your schnauzers, no waiting in line in the ER behind a cat having a hairball incident.

But Joe Average, fuming in frustration from the mayor’s blathering, finally blurted out:  “You’re Lying!  The bill does offer coverage for pets.  I’ve read the darn thing.  There’s even funding for little bitty CAT-scan machines, new miniature gurneys, and scooper sterilization equipment.”

The mayor was a bit flummoxed, and looked puzzlingly at his aides with that “What the F@!*!” look.  Aides shrugged their shoulders, but deep inside, knew they had been caught trying to sneak one in.

Joe later apologized to the mayor for calling him a dirty rotten unscrupulous liar.  The mayor said:  “That’s all right.  Don’t worry, son, I’ve been called a liar by far better people than you.  Besides…how long have you been around involved in the political world?  You certainly must know that it is a defacto part of my job description to lie about stuff.  C’mon, don’t be so naive.  People are gonna start laughing at you behind your back if you keep showing off your greenness.  Brown-up, man.”

Joe was hounded by news reporters asking what made him decided to de-pants the mayor in public.  He thought about relaying the mayor’s job description comment, but decided to stick with the issue of how we can’t afford pet health care:  “I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want to subsidize old Rover’s erectile dysfunction meds with my hard-earned tax dollars.”

Please click on the Simpli-tax tab to the right to follow the continuing drama of our CPA friends.  Part 2 has been posted.