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.”

Bizarreville economists have teamed with Research botanists to successfully create a new strain of mountain ash trees which produce money leaves.  That is correct…cash, moola, hard currency blooming on the tree.  This had been a long-term stealth research project for years which had struggled to achieve success.  The original goal was to encourage more tree-planting, but later the team expanded goals to include trying to discover a renewable source of currency.  But with hard work, determination, and genetic experimentation, success has arrived.

It takes about 10 years for the tree to mature before it produces full-size green twenties, and another 5 years before fifties will fruit.  But once there, each tree can produce bushel-baskets full of fresh cash, ready for immediate spending.

It’s best to pick the cash before late autumn when bills start to shrivel, brown, fall off the trees, and rot.  Harvesting in September/October also times perfectly with the beginning of the frantic Christmas shopping season…so you can pick and shop, pick some more, shop some more.

According the the Bizarreville Tree Czar, plans are to plant these trees initially in the ghettos and other areas of economic distress.  This will allow underprivileged citizens to go out and pick some handfuls of fresh bills, then go buy nacho chips, TV’s, underwear, athletic shoes, beer, and video games…whatever needs they truly need to fill.

Eventually, the money trees will replace welfare and food stamps, and all the associated overhead with running these bloated bureaucracies.  The trees will also displace the new “Handouts for Anything/Everything” program, the “Deadbeats Cash Assistance” program, and the “Tax Breaks for Non-taxpayers” program, with a much more efficient way to distribute money. 

Economists remind us: “People who want to work a little harder and shake the tree or climb up on the branches can get a little more than those who just wait for the cash to fall off.  It’s like an incentive program…which should sorta please ardent right-wingers who believe in rewards for hard work.  But don’t worry, left-wingers, there’s really plenty for everyone.  So enjoy!”

Michael has announced that the citizens of Bizarreville will be given first shot at a once-in-a-lifetime dream vacation opportunity.  It’s his first annual True Commie Experience cruise to the beautiful, haunting island of Cuba.  Tickets will go fast among the Libs, so belly-up quick and plunk some cold cash down to reserve your spot.

Michael has reserved a veritable fleet of homemade hand-crafted flatboats that will sail out of Miami next month.  These will be the same boats that hauled hundreds of Cuban refugees to America, and now need a backhaul.  Experience the undeniable thrill of sailing (or rowing) on the real high seas.  Guests who tend toward sea-sickness are advised to wear the patch, since vomit tends to attract the sharks and barracudas.

Once there, you will be greeted by a host of eager Cubans…mostly of whom are anxiously awaiting your boat’s arrival so they themselves can get out of Dodge.  You will stay at one of Havana’s nostalgic old casinos built in the 50’s, and now turned into a public housing project.  Guests will be given an upper-floor room so as to avoid much of the alley stench.  Each unit is equipped with a reasonably unmoldy couch on the balcony so that you can experience fresh non-air conditioned air.  And note that the fresh air comes from lack of any industry-belching smoke.  They are the originators of the miniscule carbon footprint, accomplished by simply tossing out all industry.  Brilliant!

Michael will lead you on a guided tour of Havana’s Black Market where Cuban cigars are packaged and shipped secretly to us by the same folks who bring the premium narcotics most of our guests enjoy at home.  The tour will then proceed to the sugar cane farms in a 1957 recently reconditioned bus, where guests will see how farming used to be done by real men wielding machetes…without the bother/hassle of mechanized contraptions.

Next day, you will get to experience something special.  Sit in on a stirring Communist Central Party committee meeting, and watch with amazement how things can get done when 80% of the members are fast asleep in their chairs.  See how a small group of super-wizards tries to decide how to run each and every aspect of the country’s economic/political system, and laugh as they trip over what color to paint the Politboro men’s room.  It’s funnier than a comedy club. 

That evening, you will be treated to an amazing culinary experience, eating the finest bread ration and drinking the most refreshing water at Havana’s best restaurant, the Bolsheviker.  And, as Michael’s special guests, all will be given a 2nd ration.  How about that?

See your vision, my vision, our vision of the Future 2020.  The place where everyone is treated Equal, no matter how hard they work or how lazy they are….where they do not judge you by arbitrary things like work ethic, gung-ho, or desire to learn or move ahead…concepts that are dying on the vine as we speak.  No, no… everyone gets their equal slice of the society pie.

After all, if the Cubans can make it work, well by gosh, so can we.

Michael Moorebird, the genius expert on World Economic systems and part-time screwball movie producer, gave a stirring speech at the Bizarreville Moose Lodge last Thursday evening.  He was also pitching his new book: Communist Manifesto, the Sequel.  “I think there’s a movie in that one.  Karl would be so proud,” he whimpered, holding back tears as he pre-pitched yet another brilliant, creative idea.

Moorebird had just returned from a short trip to his Promise Land, Cuba, where he had filed an investigative report on the superb conditions of their high-tech hospitals.  “I was so impressed that I think I’ll go down there for my upcoming colonoscopy next month.  May go ahead and have an Upper GI while I’m there.  Why not…let’s live it up!”

Cuban authorities admitted that they had loaded him up with mucho Mango Mojitos laced with triple shots of 151 Rum.  “Senor Moorebird lapped up those Mojitos, and kept asking for more, more, more.  We just about ran out of mint leaves.”  Onlookers report that Moorebird was stumbling and weaving through the hospital hallways, eventually flopping onto an open gurney…whereupon he promptly lost his lunch into a partly-full bed pan.

Moorebird has a busy speaking itinerary promoting his Anti-capitalism mantra and Adam Smith hate speech.  He realizes that any revolution starts small, so proposes to start by nationalizing the Port-a-John industry.  “Have you ever sat in one of those stinky freaking things??  No other nation in the world would put up with this pathetic level of quality.  Let’s start by nationalizing port-a-johns…we’ll call it AmCrack.”

Moorebird argued that you’d never see a nasty port-a-john in Cuba.  Opponents responded: “Yeah, but the alleys don’t smell so great.”

His next target might well be the Florist Industry where he has oft criticized how those coniving capitalists quadruple the price of fresh roses on Valentines Day.  “That kind of collusion and gouging has got to stop.  They don’t even smell that great any more.”  Later he did admit that his sense of smell might be a bit out of calibration from frequent trips to Cuban alleys.