bizarreville

…You people with jobs need to pay more of your Fair Share of taxes.  I’m tired of arguing with you, and really tired of you and your Tea Party buddies whining about paying more tax.  “Pay up, Shut up” is gonna be my new slogan.  Pay up, shut up.  You don’t seem to grasp that we have a recession going on.  No, no, you don’t.  And most of you in this room have jobs.  Am I right?  Well, you job-people need to help the non-job and the sub-job portions of our population.  You need to step up to your responsibilities to pay…yes, sometimes paying out the fabled ying yang…to get this debt under control.

You, over there.  You with the salmon-colored polo shirt.  You have a job, right?  Right.  And how much do you figure you pay in taxes, percentage-wise?  Forty-two percent…is that what you said?  42 lousy percent.  That means you’re taking way over half of your wages home with you every paycheck.  I’m guessing your blowing it on food, beer, a fancy shmancy house in the burbs, polos shirts for every person in your family…Nike shoes, right?  Not Bilford Athletic Econo-shoes…no, sir.  Nike.  Are you expecting the rest of the country to get by with Bilfords?  Is it fair that your kids can wear Nikes, but the bum’s kid out there on the street gets stuck with Bilfords?  Is that the kind of country we want to be…one with an ever-widening shoe gap?  Is it??

Pay up, shut up.  Fork over a few more measly dollars so that no one has to wear Bilfords unless they choose to.  Let’s erase that stigma from our society.

You know, you may find yourself needing help some day.  That’s right.  None of us are immune from the so-called green weenie, the axeman, the Chain-saw Al, the Neutron Jack, the pink slip.  I’ll bet a lot of you don’t have 2 cents in a savings account, living paycheck to paycheck, bar tab to bar tab.  You may well find yourself destitute and looking for someone to sponge off of one day.  That’s when you’ll see it all from the other side.  That’s when you’ll be saying Pay up, Shut up along with me.  You…you in the back row, nodding…yeah, you know what I mean.  Pay up, shut up doesn’t sound so bad, does it?  Exactly.  Why wait for it to happen?  Join us now, see the future.  Your future.  Let’s all say it together…Pay up, shut up, pay up, shut up, Pay Up, Shut Up, PAY UP, SHUT UP…that’s right…PAY UP, SHUT UP…now we’re talking.

My friends, trust me when I say that you will all feel better by just paying a little more.  You will have an enormous wave of self-satisfaction sweep over you as you realize your taxes are helping so many people live a better life.  You’ll take great joy as you see a raggety old bum shuffle into a Starbucks for a free cup of latte, perhaps for the first time ever.  You’ll get a tingle when you see an obese lady able to buy a grocery cart load of National brand potato chips with her food stamps.  You’ll have a sense of satisfaction watching 10 government-subsidized workers filling a pothole on Main Street, knowing that each will be bringing home a paycheck to momma.  And it’s all because you Paid Up and Shut up.  Join us.

Good night, friends.

Disclaimer:  All stories in Bizarreville are fiction, including town hall secret tapings.

The recently organized Special Presidential Committee on Debt Default has recommended that Bizarreville go ahead and just default on its National Debt. The default recommendation was unanimous among the 10-member assortment of ex-CEO’s that steerred their companies into bankruptcy proceedings, Economic college professors who are some of the country’s most brilliant minds buy have never done any real work, and a couple bankruptcy lawyers that are often seen hawking their services on TV.

“What’s the big deal?” one ex-auto industry CEO asked. “Hey, I’ve been there and it’s a non-event really. You declare bankruptcy, you stiff a few stockholders and bondholders, reorganize, throw a few execs under the bus…guys you probably wanted to deep-six anyway…call ourself the New Something-something, and it’s over before you know it. People make such a big deal of thw whole thing. Goodness sakes, it’s nothing…easier than a bicuspid root canal.”

The other committee members echoed the same sentiment. Professor Arnold Shanklard of BVU explained that the intrinsic correlation between the macro-eminent deviation matrix integer and the hypo-inflationary, pre-activated Neverland supply coefficient produces a nominal basis point rise or fall, which can be reverse de-stimulated or even repressed by global refunkatory initiative injection. That, in a nutshell, he explained, says it all. The other committee academics nodded at each other in agreement, and decided to jointly write a paper that proves their theory with plenty of graphs, that they plan to publish in the Bizarreville Business Journal.

Some critics are not so quick to suggest Default would be painless, and have even suggested the possibility of a global financial structure collapse. But the doomsayers admitted they thought the old Y2K scare was going to cause a financial system collapse, and the more recent world potato chip shortage was going to be calamitous…the former, of course, being a total non-event, while the latter just causing a spike in cheeseball consumption which eventually corrected itself.

It is likely that we will know the implications shortly. Negotiations with Congress have stalled due to their insistence on not having the proposed Bathroom Use Tax as part of the budget balancing program. “You just cannot tax the piss out of people,” a senior congressman lamented. “You got to draw the line somewhere on these so-called ‘creative’ taxes, and say we’re not going to take it anymore.”

Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the scary ones.

The Bizarreville Basketball Association (BBA) announced that it plans to lockout its players as a result of inability to come to a Labor Agreement with the Prima Donna United Players International (PDUPI).  The BBA says that it is unable to make money in the business in spite of raising ticket prices to an average of $100 per seat, installing luxo-boxes that go for 20 grand, and raising beer prices to 10 skins (12 if you want it cold).

Basketball industry insiders point out that part of the problem is the general boringness of the professional game.  Many fans are falling asleep in the stands, especially since they replaced the uncomfortable bleacher seats with regular full-backed seats.  Concession sales then fall dramatically by mid-2nd quarter.  Some teams have tried fan gimmicks like T-shirt cannons, ugly hair contests, and acrobatic dunking troupes to wake people up, but at best, it seems to only have a temporary impact.  Once play resumes, the logs start sawing again.

Sports pundits express hope that the new crop of college draftees may unearth some new players that have a little more personality than melba toast.  Jagmar “Melba Toast” Johnson, power forward for the Bizarreville Yanks, takes exception to that specific characterization, but also insists that the play is not that boring…especially in the last 2 minutes of the 4th quarter.  “I find that the snoring significantly dies down then, particularly if we can sneak in a power dunk or two.”  The feeling is shared by his teammate Lamar “M.C. Yawn” Shuffler, whose dry monotone remark was so boring that the tape recorder fell asleep.

Some fans think the BBA should implement a 4-point shot, to inject some enthusiasm like when the 3-point shot was adopted.  But others say that would encourage some hot dogs to just start firing half-court airballs, which could make the game even more boring…if that is possible.  Still others suggest the league should eliminate most fouls, take a page out of the Hockey playbook, and allow a more physical game with more frequent fights and pulling jerseys over heads.

“It’s getting that way anyway,” one Yank fan remarked.  “Why not just cut to the chase, and let the brawls begin…legally.  I think fans would love it, especially if there were more face-jacking and broken noses.  Put some boxing ring-like ropes around the court…two guys go up for a rebound, one guy ends up in the ropes.  You gotta admit…that would be fun.  Ultimate basketball.  I’d stay awake for that!”

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the sports themed ones.

At his recent budget balance press conference, the President suggested that billionaires need to have more skin in the game, and pucker up for higher taxes. This comment prompted a group of investigative reporters to seek out and survey some billionaires to get their reaction. The reporter consortium published their findings in yesterday’s edition of the Bizarreville Daily Moon.

The results were surprising. One hundred billionaires were found, mostly playing bad golf at exclusive country clubs, pounding martinis at swanky clubs, or sunning their wrinkles on various-sized yachts. When asked how they felt about a 3 or 4 percent tax bump, the general response was: “Huh? Beats the s#!$ out of me. Why don’t you go ask my Accountant. He’s that flunky over there mixing me a cocktail at the bar. Ask him to whip you up one of these peach mojitos. Have him splash a little moonshine in it, then hold onto the rail.”

The report concluded that clearly the issue of raising taxes on all 100 billionaires by 3, 4, maybe 5 percent would have very little negative pushback from the affected parties…most of whom would instruct their Accountants to go find some new tax shelter anyway, and start earning their keep. It suggests that it should be relatively simple for the Congress and President to come to quick consensus on this Easy Button tax adder.

But members of the More Tax Now & Forever advocacy group point out that this is not enough, not nearly enough, to cover the important spending needs of our time. They point out that there are still people here living below the poverty line, some with only one flatscreen TV, many who are forced to continue to use cumbersome, old-fashioned non-Smart cell phones. They point out that many Bridges to Nowhere are starting to crumble, let alone the Bridges to New Nowheres that were promised, but never built. They further point out that the proposed Unemployment Retirement program, which would provide important retirement benefits to people who have been dutifully collecting unemployment checks for up to 20 years, has still not been passed. They suggest that there are so many studies that could be done–investigating the mating habits of cockroaches, weed propogation in western deserts, and the kinetics of a slinky as it flops down stairs. But none of this important work can be done without bold new taxes. They plead that it is time to decide what kind of nation we want to be.

But as the tax debate continues, it seems apparent that billionaires will be asked to contribute more of their fair share. One billionaire CEO responded, “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just tell my Board to give me a raise to compensate for it.”

Disclaimer: all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even ones you would swear are true.

Bizarreville economists have dubbed the current economic climate as the Obama-nation Recovery.  It is different than most other recoveries in that it features no jobs, a pathetic housing market in the dumpster, and uncontrolled skyrocketing federal spending on stuff totally unrelated to helping the economy.

“Hey, you can’t have everything,” one of the Economic Council members commented.  “At least the banks are still open…they are still open aren’t they?  Yeah, they are.  I drove by one this morning.  Whew!”

Critics have called the Obama-nation Recovery a concoction of smoke, mirrors, spaghetti, and beer farts.  “Smells as bad as it looks,” commented an adversary, who wished to only be known as Mr. Onionbreath.  ” I think the smell receptors inside my nose have melted down.”

One ice cream shop owner expressed her concern about the prospect of an upcoming Double dip recession on her near-term business.  “There’s no way we can start giving a free 2nd dip to customers, just cuz the President says so.  If we’re forced, we’ll just have to raise our single dip price…maybe even our Kiddie dip price.  And I’ll assure you, that won’t make the mommas and grammaws happy.  Besides…and we’ve seen it before…when you start putting a 2nd dip on kid’s cones, it ends up on the floor making a mess.  And you-know-who gets to clean it up.  Have they thought about that?”

Members of the Economic Council have suggested that further recovery must start by incentives at the retail level.  “Stores need to start giving crap away…you know, the kind of junky, mold-encrusted merchandise that is not selling anyway.  Give it free when you buy a couch, or a swimsuit, or a set of bedsheets.  It all stimulates people buying…gets wallets out of their Captain Kangaroo pockets.  They love free stuff…don’t even care if it’s garbage that they would never use in 1000 years.  It’s like tossed beads at Mardi Gras parades.  It’s free.  It’s good.”

The Obama-nation Recovery is facing a stressful stretch, as the stock market has started behaving erratically, businesses have pulled back on capital investment, and congress cannot seem to quell their narcotic-like spending addiction.  Nevertheless, the President maintains his optimism in the spirit of the people, who are used to sucking it up and prepping for another pounding.

“People are resilient,” an administration spokesperson said.  “You throw them into a wall, they bounce back.  You drop 80 pounds of stool on their head, they rinse it off.  You drop kick them through the goal posts, they score.  It all works out.”

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even ones you’d swear are true.

The Bizarreville Congress just announced passage of a new law that will require all cigarette makers to put photos of dead guys on their packs.  Security was beefed-up during the press conference, expecting angry protests and disorderly behavior from various smoking advocate groups.

Quite the contrary.  Smoking advocates applauded the move, stating that it was the first time in recent memory that the government has done anything to help the ailing cigarette industry.

Turns out, the government will subsidize the artwork development, printing setups, and packaging modifications to adopt the Dead Guy specifications.  Each tobacco company will be able to choose its favored Dead guy art…among hundreds of funny-looking cartoons, caricatures of dead movie stars with superimposed cigarettes, and photos of various disfigured and toothless dead people pretending to be puffing away in the afterlife.

“I think it’s a hoot,” laughed one industry spokesman.  “I think this could be one of the best publicity enhancers we’ve seen in decades.  Did you see the Elvis artwork?  Man…I crack up every time I think about it.”

The industry spokesman was questioned whether he thought that young people would be dissuaded from smoking because of the graphic images of dead smokers.

“Are you s#!**ing me?  Kids are gonna snap these packs up like they were Slurpees at the 7-11.  Probably have that Elvis pack on back order from Day one.  Listen, Elmer, kids know that cigarettes are bad for you.  Duhhhh.  They know that swilling a 12-pack of beer, having pre-marital unprotected sex, driving 50 in a 30 zone, wolfing down triple cheeseburgers with extra-greasy fries are bad for you, too.  Double-duhhhh.  But let me tell you one thing…they’re gonna love these new cigarette packs (ha ha, ha).  What a riot!”

The spokesman was then asked how his company plans to change their production schedule.  “Called the plant this morning, and told them to crank it up 30 percent.  Just hope we can keep up.”

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are, of course, fictional.

Sure, sure, sure, the Economy is in the toilet…high-flowing unemployment, constipated GDP growth, housing taking continuous enemas (Beep, beep), Weiner’s weiner getting headline news (honk).  Jason Shlepberd at Mungtown Associates telling you to bale now and stick it all in gold, ammunition, MR freeze-dried burger meals, and TP futures.  Should you do it…well should you (quack, quack)?

Yes, absolutely…Jason are you listening to me?  Go, go now…before the snow-covered stadium collapses on your hypodermic needle-size noggin (crash).  And while you’re loading up your fallout shelter with sanitary napkins, consider buying this:  Undertakers WorldGroup.  Your buddies at Flunkster Munkster Corp have poo-pooed UWG for the past 8 months, due to their lack of earnings in a business that “the dumbest person in the history of Bizarreville should be able to figure some way to make money, or at least break-friggin-even” (ching, ching).  Hey, friends, I know the CEO, who has shared with me his “Corpse to Life” turnaround plan.  Includes cost containment measures such as more extensive use of recycling.  Pull out your January 2012 calendars, and mark it down:  $51/share, 40% gain from now.  Let’s go to the phones.

Booya, Jim.  Should I sell or hold my Fartgas Partners stock, now that the Chief Financial Officer has admitted to embezzlement, fraud, and inappropriate contact with his male admin?

Sell?  Are you serious?  Sell?  This company is poised for triple digit growth now that the Department of Energy has approved its product for use as a natural gas substitute in Power plants and industrial applications (pfffffttt).  That CFO?  I’ve known he was some kind of pervert for 18 months.  Probably been sniffing too much of their product in the test lab.  They’ll fire him, and hire some non-perv by next Thursday.  Let’s see…FGP was down 6 bucks in yesterday’s trading.  Listen, I’d be loading up on it, wheelbarrows full of Fartgas…maybe hot air balloons full.  Hey…possible product line extension!  You heard it here first, Mr. Fartgas.  I expect some royalty checks…next caller.

What are your thoughts on DTJ, Dialtone Jones…that company that makes those clunky, enormous cell phones that were popular 15 years ago?  Stock is selling for about 13 cents right now.

I’d wait till it goes down to a dime, then buy it like a grammaw at her last garage sale (boingggg).  Those big-ass phones are starting to come back…sorta retro fashion statement.  Saw one guy last week using one that had a rotary dialer on it.  Classic, sheer classic masterpiece (dit, dit, dit, dit, dit).  Listen, when they turn the corner on this retro market, they’ll start making serious money, shaky hand over trembling fist.  All their buildings and equipment are paid for.  They’ve reduced staff down to about 11 fat guys and a truck…at minimum wage and minimum maintenance, respectively.  Nothing but upside, my friend.  If it goes down to a nickel, remortgage your house, and load up on it like a 3rd trip to the carved beef line at the Golden Corral buffet.

That’s all the time we have.  See you next time on Crazy Money.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the business-oriented ones.

After Northern Bizarreville government workers were forced to have to pay 5 bucks a month toward their Health Care costs, a backlash emerged in the Unionistas.  One of their leaders, former Labor secretary Rodberd Reich, was particularly miffed, and called a quick press conference.  Reich, who teaches “Marxism, Communism, and other Liberal Whackisms” at Bizarreville College for the Low SAT Scorers (BCLSS), appeared desheveled as the organizers had forgotten to bring a stool for him to stand on, so he could get his head above the podium.  A heckler in the audience made a slurring remark about shipping all midgets to Funkwater Island, and was quickly whisked away by security guards.  Several other Anti-Midgites who had created a disparaging puppet show in the rear of the audience, were also asked to leave, when laughter began to get disruptive to the business at hand.

“Friends and comrades,” Reich began, “It is time for us to climb out of our Strato-loungers, put the beer back in the fridge, and start organizing again.  This little insulting incident up north is just the tip of the iceberg…that, incidently, is melting fast due to global warming.  It’s 5 bucks now, but soon it will be 6, 7, 8…how high might it go?  10?  11?  It could happen.  And all the work that you have done…your fathers and grandfathers have done…to suck the life out of corporations and big government agencies, will be spinning down the commode and into that billion dollar 8-stage, environmentally-friendly sewage treatment plant that produces water of better quality than Perrier.  Trust me, I’ve drank both.  It’s true.”

“Organize now, before it’s too late.  Next thing you know, they’ll eliminate free parking at employee parking lots, install pay urinals, and replace the Coke products in your vending machines with generic brand colas, taste-free oranges, and Fizzies…”

At this point, one of the legs of his stool broke.  He uttered a few curse words, aimed at tall people in general.  That little rampage seemed to shock audience members, most of whom were non-midgets.  A chorus of boo’s rang out, and a few tomatoes were hurled toward Reich, all missing the Secretary, but one smacking into the podium microphone, causing it to go into a piercing feedback screech.  The infuriorated Reich hustled off stage, flipping the double bird to the now hostile audience.

“You F*#%heads better wise up and get with the bloody f*#%ing program, before it’s too f*#%ing late.  Big Brother has got your number, and is gonna stick it up your tall person a$$#oles,” he shouted while dodging additional tomato mortar-fire.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction.  But you already knew that.

After days and days of dodging questions about whether the famous Twitter photo was a depiction of him, Congressman Anthony Weiner finally issued a firm denial that it was his weiner in the shot.  “Let me just clear the record,” Weiner stated.  “My staff has completed a thorough investigation of this matter, and has proof beyond any shadow of a doubt that the protruding member is not mine, nor anyone in my close circle.”

Weiner refused to go on record with the specific evidence of proof, but inside sources say that the sizing was the critical determinant.  The source said there was a time in his life when he might have been that large, but his liberalness over past decades would have shrunk it by 30 to 40 percent.  Furthermore, his pathetic voting record on tough-minded spending cuts would have essentially drained all the testosterone from his body, which in turn, would have caused another 15 to 18% shrivelling.  Urological experts agree that there is no way such a flaming gutless liberal could generate or maintain that size.

Congressman Weiner continues to bristle at the jokes between the male member and his proud family surname, according to his chief of staff L. Richard Schwantz.  “He has been teased, ridiculed, jabbed, and made fun of since he was 7 years old,” Schwantz stated.  “He has endured the cackles, smirks, and spit-takes everytime his name is announced in public.  For a time in college, he tried to get everyone to pronounce with the German pronunciation “Veener”, but everyone just laughed and said, ‘Okay, Weiner Boy.'”

The congressman is expecting to be the butt of an additional round of Late Night talk show jokes with this new revelation and associated rumor of sizing deficiency.  The Main stream press, however, is expected to continue to go easy on him, since the vast majority of mainstream reporters have suffered from the same embarrassing shrinkage affliction.  Some reporters have allegedly gone as far as employing prosthetics in public appearances to disguise their issue, and are likely to be extremely sympathetic to the congressman in their ongoing coverage, and may even offer some campaigning advice.

In the meantime, the congressman has deep-sixed his Twitter account to prevent any copy-cat weiner shooters from hacking into his account.  He has also changed his Facebook user name from Weiner Face to New York Hosebag, supposedly a throwback to an old family name on his mother’s side.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones you would swear must be real.

More congresspeople on both sides of the aisle are now belatedly recognizing that the Debt can stand no more raising.  This realization has apparently come after these lunks and lunk staffs had been barraged with phone calls from their 4th and 5th grade Math teachers, who scolded them on their failure to understand basic arithmetic…and in particular their seemingly total obliviousness to the chapter on “Subtraction”.  The scoldings have appeared to have hit home, as many voted down the recent attempt to raise the debt ceiling.

Mrs. Marge Flumpzit, who was the elementary school teacher of Harry Reid, was an outspoken member of this band of teachers.  Flumzit, who is now 97 years old, still remembers the precocious Reid who was always throwing spitballs at the girls in class while she was trying to explain how subtraction worked…and how it was quite different from addition.  Flumpzit was able, in those days, to be able to whack Reid with a yardstick or fire a piece of chalk at his ear if he was not paying full attention.  But, she says, it did no good as Reid would resume his spitball fettish moments later.  “The bad thing,” she lamented, “was that I’d have to go clean up those disgusting, slimy balls of snotty goo after class.  Some of them would literally stick to the wall.  Yeah, I don’t think that kid retained one lousy ounce of subtraction knowledge.”

Experts in the field of Mathematics Education have explained that this phenomenon is not that uncommon, particularly among dimwits.  Jonathan Wanker, the Executive Director of the Mathnerd Institute, says that kids with lightly loaded melons often struggle with the difficult concepts of subtraction and division, frequently turning to a variety of distractions, which may include daydreaming, writing little notes to classmates, or wetting their pants, as defensive measures.

The sad thing, Wanker states, is that all too frequently these subtraction-ignoramuses tend to find careers in Politics.  Their lack of fluency with Subtraction can, and has, become a real danger to the unsuspecting public, who often have trouble understanding how a congress person or senator can really be that dumb.  The public just does not realize, according to Wanker, that some people are not wired to process this “higher level” math, no matter how much tutoring or yardstick whacking they receive.

Wanker sas that, eventually, citizens may require that politicians take a simple arithmetic test, including plenty of subtraction problems, before being allowed to register as a candidate.  The test may have subtraction problems that are 5, 6, or maybe even 9 digits long to really test the skill level and competency.  This, he says, may not screen out all the numbskulls, but it could certainly make a dent.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones that sound so real.

Welcome to Presidential Idol.  Well, we’re down to 5 contestants who YOU have selected to become the next Presidential Idol.  Let’s get right to it.  First up to sing tonight for your votes is Barack Obama…

Will grab a hold of you…yeah.

Hold it, hold it, hold on, Dog (ha, ha, ha).  Listen, now I need to make this real, you know what I mean.  I’m not totally sure what KEY you were singing in…was that key even in the musical scale?  Whoa!  Think it was in the key of “J” or something.  Got a call from the Chairman of Karaoke International and he said Stay Away, Stay far far away, brother.  Anyway, even though you can’t hold a note, and the lyrics were askew from what the writer had written…despite all that…you know what?  I kinda liked it.  Yeah.  And you have a fan base out there, pretty good-sized fan base of tone-deaf groupies, that seem to love your quirky, pitchy, gravelly, off-beat kind of singing.  They lap it up like a pack of camels after a desert safari, dude.  So, guess what?  We’re putting you through to the next round.  Congratulations!!

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the simulated TV shows.

The battle continues in Capitol Valley on what to do about The Debt.  The Debt, as most people know, is an old ramshackle building next door to the Bizarreville Capitol where all the IOU’s are kept that have stemmed from the rampant mindless government borrowings to fund its wild and crazy spending spree over many years.

In early times, the IOU’s were neatly filed in beautiful oak file cabinets, alphabetized by lender, with an army of secretaries doing the filing in crisp manila folders.  As the IOU rate accelerated, the oak cabinets became jammed full, and they had to buy some cheap metal cabinets…later ratcheting down to cardboard cabinets.  But, after a while, the incoming IOU’s were just too rapid-fire, so they went with plain old brown boxes.  Soon after, when the job of “secretary” was eliminated by Bizarreville courts as being “too demeaning to the soul…a reprehensible exploitation of women…an excuse to have glorified waitresses shlepping coffee for a bunch of lazy suits,” the organized filing simply ceased.  IOU’s were just dollied into rooms, closets, and hallways, and dumped helter skelter.  Papers were strewn everywhere.

When all the available space was packed as tight as a colon on a no-fiber diet, the Elders determined that the only solution was to raise The Debt ceiling, and add another flat of rooms.  That would free up some space in lower floors, so they said, in case anyone wanted to navigate through the mess to pay off a few of the IOU’s.  Unfortunately, though, before the next floor was even roughed-in, it began to fill with new truckloads of IOU paperwork, promissory notes being shuttled in continuously.  The Bizarreville fathers hurriedly raised the ceiling again, and started construction of another floor.  The lack of time for architectural planning or construction oversight caused a few, mostly cosmetic, issues to develop which were corrected with careful gerryrigging.

The Spenders were happy with the solution of adding more and more floors.  Sure, the building was ugly, but it was functional, and really that’s all that mattered.  The IOU’s were in a place that was mostly dry except in torrential rainstorms.  And without secretaries, there was none of the constant whining and bellyaching about crowded conditions, as there had been previously.  Curtains were purchased for the windows, drawn closed, so that no one would have to see the mess inside.

The Ceiling raising solution was one that everyone could be happy about…that is, until the Bizarreville Building Engineer finally insisted on an inspection.  In his report, he pointed out that The Debt was an unstable, overloaded fire hazard that would likely crash to the ground within 12 months.  Naturally, he was fired the next day for his delusional scare tactics, irresponsible analytics, and offensive personal hygiene.

In his aftermath, however, the debate has continued to resound about the quality of the building and structural soundness.  Legislators point out that The Debt has become a tourist attraction, especially by foreign visitors who marvel and love to take photographs of it.  “The Debt has so much more character than that silly leaning tower in Pisa,” one world traveler commented.  “No comparison.  This photo is going up in my Rec Room next to a couple Andy Warhol soup cans.”

Rumors have started that maybe Congress would stop their manic hyper-spending, negating the need to raise The Debt ceiling anymore.  “Hope not,” another shutterbug answered.  “At least not until they add one or two more floors to this wobbly piece of crap.”

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones you would like to be true.