bizarreville

Bizarreville carmakers report that car thefts are down to a 20-year low, initially bringing about some excitement in Executive offices.  But, after further review, it became clear that pathetic design, ugly styling, and general car boringness were the biggest contributing factors to the decline.  Curiously, golf cart thefts have trended up in recent months.

The Car Thieves International Union (CTIU) agreed with the assessment.  “Yeah, dem cars are so freaking ugly, I for one would not be caught dead pilfering one,” commented the CTIU president.  The Union noted that even the stolen car parts were now harder to peddle, due to shoddy quality and lousy basic designs.  This has caused Fences to have to return the stolen merchandise for full credit.  There was even a recent case where a thief was clubbed over the head with a busted, defective tie rod from an unhappy Black Market customer who had frankly gotten fed up with poor quality goods.  “It’s becoming epidemic.  And it’s putting our entire  f#&*!$  business at risk,” cited an underground paint shop proprietor.

The insurance companies are naturally thrilled by the theft trend, and have gone on record to encourage all the car companies to go even further in adopting mediocrity, especially in car styling.  “Take that new model from Shanker Motors called the Thumb.  That car is so ugly my grammaw wouldn’t get inside.  It looks like a cross between a bratwurst and a…well…you-know-what.  But it works most of the time, and just doesn’t get stolen.  Would like to see more Thumbs out there, and other ‘Fingers’ for that matter.”  Insurers point out that this reduction in thievery will also eventually save money on insurance premiums…or at the very least, reduce the amount of the annual premium increases to the car owner…which they say is basically the same thing.

Meanwhile the car companies are just plain perplexed…but that is really nothing particularly new.  After all, they had thought they were making real cool cars, before they started realizing what was actually coming out the factory door.  “Hey, if the market wants junk, we’ll give ’em junk.  That’s something we know how to do (ha, ha),” an unnamed car exec said in jest.

Bizi Bank has been on hard times.  Of course, it all started when they made all those bad loans…millions and millions in stupid, numbskull loans approved by the Loan Board that, sadly, had that bout with marijuana addictions… what were they calling it?  Refer-pprovals, no waiting…how much do you need?  Have any nacho chips with you?

But the Board has been through rehab now and been thoroughly cleansed with hypnosis therapy, yoga, and fleet enemas.  They have been analyzed and evaluated by true loan specialists from the mob, who have given them a clean bill of health.  And they have taken a pledge to tighten back their anuses to pre-crisis level.

The fact remains that Bizi was given a $3 gazillion government bailout, footed by taxpayers, some of whom were not too happy about bailing out these dope heads.  They were especially angry when Bizi handed out honkin’ bonus checks to their fellow smoker-tokers, in a moment of “brilliant” political astuteness.  Articles in the newspaper were cruel calling Bizi leadership “Blagojevichian” in its wisdom…ouch.  Bizi fired back with an OpEd saying that the newspaper had one use, you could wipe with it…and even at that, there were a whole hell of a lot of better/softer wiping options.  Touche.

Meanwhile…citizens, already pretty unhappy with Bizi, were even more turned-off by this banter and started pulling their savings out.  Bizi had to move fast, but they knew what they had to do:  Toasters…toasters, and lots of them.  They offered a free toaster to each account who did not pull money out.  Luckily, they had still had some unspent Bailout funds remaining to be able to quickly buy a few truckloads of toasters.  Filled their whole vault with toasters where once there was cash.

It’s early to tell, but Bizi says toasters are moving fast.  Some customers have complained that the toasters are just the 2-slice kind with narrow slots that don’t do bagels…but they grab them anyway.  “We’ll give them as Christmas presents.”

The Geezer Club of Bizarreville was having its morning meeting and constitutional around the cracker barrel at the General Store, when the debate turned to troops in Afghanistan.

“I don’t think we should send any more of our fine young lads there.  Those Talibans are pure whack jobs, almost as crazy as that Floop family who live down at the Mung Pond.  Remember them? Remember when young Johnnie Floop…I think he was about 13 back then…allegedly dropped a deuce right in the City Hall fountain?  That’s when they found out that the fountain was tied into the entire water system…had to shut it all down and disinfect it.  Then some guy with a bag over his head, rumored to be his brother Dirk, streaked at that championship basketball game, tripped and fell on his you-know-what, and they had to bring out the Disinfectant team once again.  Had to postpone the whole game.  Those Floop kids just terrorized the town.” 

“Yeah, I remember those days…pretty gross bunch, them Floops. Lucky we had that Disinfectant squad.”

“Remember?  Bizarreville citizens got really flustered , and demanded action against those unadulterated dirt bags.  But that Floop family was pretty clever at dodging and weaving, denying any wrong-doing, slithering away when things got hot, covering tracks.  The authorities were puzzled until one clever citizen suggested a way to divert their jerk-ball energy into a nonsensical activity…the game of Roach Search & Destroy.  It was a perfect game for the knucklehead set…crawling around in the dirt to root out the little critters, then beating/scrunching them to a pulp.  Their household was a perfect setting for the game with crud and filth in literally every corner, attracting the game pieces by the thousands.  They created an internal competition among family members…not just for highest roach count, but also bonus points for extraordinary acts of squishmanship.  Mounted roach taxidermy on just about every wall.

“It worked.  They spent all their energy on that stupid roach game, and quit terrorizing the citizens.  Eventually had to dismantle the old Disinfectant SWAT squad due to lack of work.  So…anyway… that’s how we ought to deal with the Taliban… surreptitiously get ’em a game going that would divert their attention.  Maybe they could substitute goats or yaks or something for the roaches.”

“Pretty stupid story.  I need to hit the can.”

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.

Bizarreville elders have been following in earnest the goofy media flap regarding Rush Limbaugh trying to buy the St. Louis Rams NFL franchise.  The hot rumor was that the Owners would object to the buy because his cash was simply not green enough.

The Elders are going to try and recruit Rush to buy the Bizarreville Skunksprays football team.  “He would have been a mere minority owner in St. Lous, but would be a big-time solo owner here,” said Frank Spankhard, the current owner.  “He could buy the whole kit and kaboodle for a buck 2.80, and I’d even throw in an autographed picture of Herm Spurple, the Pro Bowl water bucket boy.”

The Skunksprays team value continues to diminish with its mounting loss record, now 0-7 for the year, and projections of another winless season.  Spankhard has considered just dismantling the team and walking away, but the League Board would not permit it.  In fact, just because he had the temerity to even suggest such a concept, they took away from him one 2nd round and one 5th round pick for the 2010 draft as a sanction penalty.  They also warned any further lip would cost him a 1st rounder.  Team management shrugged, smirked, and uttered a collective “Whatever”.

The Bizarreville Elders feel that Limbaugh could come in and revitalize the disgusting Skunkspray franchise.  He may be willing to pay (dare we say) market prices to get some non-pathetic un-bums.  Might even try to hire a coaching staff from somewhere other than Lame Brain Refrigerator College.  “Sure would be different having someone who actually knows how to attract an audience,” commented an arbitrary person off the street.

Opponents have responded: “Sure, maybe at first he might shell out dough.  But he’ll quickly realize that he’s paid a king’s ransom, and the team still sucks.”  When asked to serve up an alternative, a better idea, or any suggestion, the opponents just belched.

The elders have been calling the Limbaugh program all week, but haven’t gotten through.

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.

The Mayor was ecstatic when the News came out.  The distinguished Scandinavian-sounding gentleman on the other end of the line said he had just won the Nobel Peace Prize!  The Mayor was shocked and was tempted to say “Huh…errr, uhhh…for what?”  But he just thanked the person, hung up, and started dancing the Electric Slide around the room.

But deep inside, the Mayor knew he hadn’t done crap to deserve such an award.  Frankly, he was more known for stirring-up doo-doo, rather than building peace.  Promoting death panels for old grammaws, spending money like a drunken nuclear submarine crewmember on leave, handouts for any nitwit who whined on his shoulder, and spending all that money on that stupid low-cost 2016 Olympics proposition…just all created a lot of unrest in Bizarreville, not peace, certainly not peace.  The only thing he’d really done for peace was to buy one round of beers for 2 guys fighting in McFunk’s Bar…was that enough to merit such a prestigious award?  He did, after all, pop for imports  rather than cheap bland domestic beer brands….?

But then the truth came out.  The mayor had not won the Nobel Peace Prize.  He had won the Gobel Cheese Prize, an award recognizing a member of government who best provides fodder for comedians, humor/satire authors, and political cartoonists.  Named after 60’s deadpan comedian George Gobel, it gave special bonus points for nominees with a flair for pathetically understated fashion.  The mayor, normally seen wearing pants hiked up to his man-boobs, certainly scored high in that bonus category.

Turns out, the Mayor was nominated for the Nobel Prize, based on that bar incident.  But some English chap who had mediated a 6-person fight and bought the entire pub a round of pints got the nod for the prize.  “Yeah, that’s a legendary accomplishment in anybody’s book,” said the Mayor barely hiding his disappointment.  “Maybe I’ll get another chance to bust up a bar fight, and get rewarded for my Body of Work in the field…”

The Nobel committee had no comment.

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.

Bizarreville’s own auto industry, Shanker Motors, has been feeling the pinch lately.  Shanker has had a proud history, an automotive innovation leader in past years, coming up with such ideas as the self-cleaning ash tray, the power parking brake, the lighted hood ornament, and the optional dog seat in the trunk.  These ideas were years/decades ahead of their time.

But Shanker more recently has been beset with quality problems.  Bumpers would fall off when the velcro started getting old.  The “Smudge Master” windshield wipers never quite performed up to expectation.  Fuel gauges were often about a quarter of a tank out of calibration, causing some drivers to run out of gas at 2 in the morning.  This, combined with the fact that the cars were downright butt-ugly, drove the sales trend down in the past 5 years or so.  Market share was cut literally in half.

A year ago, the Shanker management team recognized the problem and did a reorganization, literally switching job titles of every exec.  It cost several million dollars in new office nameplates, furniture moves, business cards, memo pads, and new drapes.  To cut cost, they eschewed the 12-way adjustable lumbar support massaging swivel chairs for the more basic 8-ways.  They totally cut out the restroom attendants in the executive restrooms.  The management team conducted several off-site meetings, days and days of meetings, using 14 full pads of flipchart paper and 117 packets of Post-It notes. They developed mission statements, vision statements, strategy statements, charters, bubble charts, quadrant charts, and SWOT analyses.  They were serious.

But in spite of all these seemingly bold, brilliant moves, results failed to improve at Shanker.  Next, they brought in an HR consultant, who promptly surveyed the Shanker workers to probe into productivity/morale problems.  Survey results, combined with intense focus group interviews, clearly showed that if the workers were given a 7 percent raise, morale would improve.  In further analyzing results, the HR consultants estimated that the improved morale would produce a linear improvement in productivity, 7 percent to be exact. 

Management agreed, made the change.  But they quickly found that the consultant’s projections were off…by about 7 percent, give or take.  The consultants pointed out that there were “other factors” at work, but agreed to trim their normal fee by 5 percent as a matter of good faith.

It seems that Shanker prospects look bleak and they may be headed for Chapter 11.  In the mean time, the Purchasing Department has told their suppliers to either drop prices 10 percent or they would be given a kite to fly.  To be fair…it is a fairly nice kite with the company logo and a pretty red paisley background…but it does have a hand gesture illustration that might be considered a bit inappropriate when flying down on the beach.

Bizarreville Leaders are debating if there is some help that could be given.  But there is not much enthusiasm, since many of the Leaders have owned Shankers and, yes, have done that 2:00 am walk home. 

It still may be possible that a deal could be worked out to have them develop a line of taxi cabs…sort of the final link at the very end of the auto food chain.  Stay tuned.