bizarreville

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.

Bill Cronie, Bizarreville’s fine upstanding pharmacist, is very upset.  “The continuing talk in the News about Cronies being appointed to critical positions in the Administration has thoroughly besmirched our family name beyond repair.  The incompetent goof-balls and tax cheats receiving these important appointments…none of them are Cronies, none are even distantly related to any Cronies, not even by marriage.  They are dirt-bag nimrods who are drawn together by their vacuum of character and held together by the sticky goo they spew.  But no…no…no way are any of them Cronies, trust me.  Please call them Nincompoops.”

Elwood Nincompoop could not be reached for comment.

Recruiting efforts are now in high-gear to staff up the newly commissioned Death Panels in Bizarreville.  As you know, these are the panels that will ultimately decide if grammaw gets that 3rd hip replacement in lieu of a nicely rehabbed wheelchair…or if grampaw should get that appendix removed today, or just wait in line and hope for the best.  The Death Panel program has been a popular concept, particularly among the younger people, as a means of reducing spiralling health care costs and frankly helping solve the impending Social Security ballooning problem.  Critics have called it harsh, but became less vocal when it became apparent that Leaders were taking names.

Interviewers say that they’re looking for a strong set of Defiant Uber-ssertive skills in candidates for the job.  “You cannot be a bleeding heart, bed-wetting baby who wants his pacifier.  We will be looking for people with proven track records of starting fights in bars, climbing over weak people for promotions, telling the boss to Shove It, frantically yelling at Town Hall meetings, telling panhandlers to Get a Job, honking at bike riders…you get the idea.  If it happens they’ve pulled the plug on a close relative in the past…well, that would certainly earn bonus points.  Candidates with previous Boy Scout or Girl Scout experience probably should not apply.  People who have formerly coached Little League or any other kids sport should only apply if they can show that they yelled at the kids and quit at mid-season out of sheer frustration.”

Interviews will begin today at 2pm at the Hospital Emergency room.  Warning to all would-be candidates…interviewers will be closely watching you as you enter the ER.  Don’t fall into the trap by having a sympathetic look on your face as you walk by the pathetic moaner doubled-up in pain, or the young child bleeding out his ears.  It’s a test.  Keep that “Whatever…” look, and you’ll be good to go.  Good luck to all.

The Bizarreville Skunksprays lost another heart-breaking football game yesterday, an embarrassing loss to the Nerfville Nerdnuts 27-14, pushing the Sprays record to 0-4 and promising another mega-losing season.

“I thought we had a chance to win this one,” said Coach Schlumpp.  “First-off, the Nerdnuts are a pathetically lousy team.  But when the Nerds lost their 1st string quarterback in the First Quarter, their 2nd string quarterback in the Second Quarter, and had to put their Kicker in to take snaps…well, then I thought we had ’em.  That kid was just tossing up rainbows, but somehow the Receivers managed to gather them in and score.  And when the Nerdnuts’ main running back, the midget with just one arm, racked up 175 yards rushing…well, that was pretty humiliating to say the least.”

Fans left the stadium very disappointed but not too surprised.  They have grown accustomed to poor play, poor coaching, poor management.  Some fans have stopped attending, oft criticized for being fair-weather fans.  But they have reminded us that it’s been decades since they saw blue skies, and the forecast calls for rain and golf-ball size hail.

Management shows the face of being upset, but deep down inside they really don’t care if the team loses…the fans keep coming out, the TV revenue piles in, the dog and beer sales continue, even with ratcheted up prices.  They rationalize that there’s no guarantee of a winning season even if they pay big bucks for talent or knowledgable coaches…a brilliant strategy of maximizing profit margins.  They’ve even parlayed this strategy into trading draft picks for old decrepid has-beens and picking up undrafted walk-ons and stumble-ons.  Scouts continually scour the bottom of the stats charts and game low-lights using a novel points system that scores ineptness, confusion, mistake-making, and general lack of athleticism.  It’s helped find those little horse nuggets buried in the hay.

“It’s a Cost Control model of high-esteem,” said Professor Stewbeed of Bizarreville College’s MBA program.  “It’s a model that had shown past success among some upper Midwest professional sports teams, but the Skunksprays have taken it to an all new level.  Each cut of cost has produced a significantly lesser marginal revenue impact, thereby providing incremental EBITDA to the shareholder.  Bravo!”

“But what about the fans?” asked a prying reporter.

“Pffffft…next question?” smirked the Prof.

The Skunksprays face a tough opponent next week, the Murgatoid Marauders, undefeated and leading the league.  Vegas points spread is currently at 63 points, but many Bizarreville citizens think Murgatoid will not cover the spread.  “63 points??  That’s ridiculous.  I’m taking the points.”  The Skunksprays coach was asked if he is doing anything special to prepare for the game, and he responded, “We’ve bolstered our supplies of bandages, splints, and gauze…lots of gauze…and neckbraces, you can never have enough of those.”

Bizarreville’s committee has submitted its proposal to become the 2016 Olympic site.  Competition will be tough.  Chicago seems to be a front-runner, with its first-class facilities, park settings with skyline backdrop, restaurants/bars, and fun things to do.

Of course, Bizarreville has none of that.  The committee is pitching the Bizarreville bid on a cost/economics appeal, which is always a concern for the tightly managed IOC.  Bizarreville’s cost dismemberments include:

– Round up of partly rusted-out trailers, stacked on top of each other as the Olympic village. “Will almost look like one of those art-deco hotels at South Beach.” 

– Stoke a bonfire instead of the Olympic torch, full of traditional old pallets, old couches, and wood paneling from defunct basement rec rooms

– Upgrade the Bizarreville High School football field for the big track and field events with a fresh pack of real cinders instead of that artificial rubber crap.

– Use Shmefle’s pond for Aquatics.  Not much rehab necessary beyond removing a minor amount of pond scum, relocating a small frog population, and some air-freshener (or fans).

– Employ Honkers Edible Diner to cater the food, well-known for stretching a meal with creative additives and starch substitutes.

– Have some 50/50 raffles to cover expenses and create some real fun for attendees, a nice diversion from the goofy little competitions of people you’ve never heard of and will never see again.

Organizers say that the Bizarreville Olympics would cost about one-third of the cost of those primo sites, and would create a new model for Olympics of the future. Critics have called their proposal the “Junque Olympics” or the “Lame Games”, but the local committee dismisses it as Arrogance from the Arrogocracy (whatever that means).  Melvin Fermerfermer, the committee chairman, said “Running is running, jumping is jumping, diving is diving…what freaking difference does it make where you do it?”  They plan to construct temporary bleachers at the venues from a startup company called Rickety Rump… who will use older prematurely discarded stands to save money and provide a no-collapse guarantee.  Rickety would, however, take out an insurance policy with Lloyds of London, just in case the unthinkable happens.

Bizarreville plans to minimize the so-called excessive security found at previous Olympics.  The committee will ask each team to bring its own security and weaponry…a few thugs in black shades certainly wouldn’t hurt.  The concept of mutually-assured massacre is believed to be sufficient disuasion against would-be terrorists.  “The Mid-East countries may belly-ache about this policy, but we have a simple/concise answer for them, if the question should arise.”

The Bizarreville committee is confident that their 2016 bid will prevail, even though the odds seem to be stacked against them.  “Go to Vegas, and put a wad on it,” encourages Chairman Fermerfermer, puffing on a big foot-long stogey.

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 word is getting out that Taxes will go up if the new Bizarreville Health Care plan goes into effect.  Leaders previously promised no new taxes to fund Health Care, but then a local 5th grader found a mistake that the Budget Office made in their arithmetic.  The staff of PhD’s on the Bizarreville Economic Council were embarrassed, but said that the flaw was in their solar calculators due to all the overcast skies in the past couple weeks.

So now the Leaders are trying to figure who will foot the bill for the new funding needs.  They took a poll of the Citizens, who overwhelmingly voted to tax the Rich guys…percentage-wise, the vote was about 90 to 10.  Some pundits were concerned that this was the sixth time recently that taxes would go up on the Rich, and at some point that gravy train would need to end.  They said that the new tax would reduce jobs, as more and more companies would move investment outside of Bizarreville to more tax-friendly places.  They whined that you can’t keep giving all these other people free rides.

The Other side responded:  “Waaah, waaah, waaah…let’s all shed tears for the multi-millionaires.  Boo-hoo.  May have to get by with 4 butlers instead of the conventional 5.  May have to sell off one of the 8 Jags parked in the garage, the one that hasn’t been properly dusted in over a week (how gross).”  They responded that the Boards will just jack up their salaries higher to compensate for the higher tax anyway…the rich dudes may end up net ahead when all is said and done.  When asked about the impact on small business, they responded that the small guys are all getting Walmartized anyway…wake up, smell the decaf latte.

The Tax Fairness Congregate (TFC) said that Bizarreville is moving toward a culture of Tax Payers and Tax Consumers, a very dangerous trend, long term.  “More and more people are getting removed from the tax rolls via reduced rates, tax rebates for the untaxed, and a plethora of freebies, handouts, and bogus breaks.  It’s moving us rapidly toward socialism/marxism.”

TFC opponents, when asked about how they feel about Karl Marx, responded: “Was he the Italian guy with the funny hat, or the mute guy with the little honking horn?  No matter…Bizarreville could definitely benefit from a little more comedyism and humorism.”

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.”