bizarreville

Bizarreville leaders have continued to look for new/better ways to prevent the rascally public from reading and learning about upcoming legislation.  It’s been a challenge.  In spite of their sophisticated efforts to keep it all under wraps, information somehow has kept leaking out of cracks and crevices, as sneaky as a dutch oven at midnight.

A while back, Leaders had a brainstorm…they would write the bills in a foreign language.  Brilliant?  Not so… unfortunately, stupidly, they managed to pick simple-to-translate languages like Bosnian, Czech, or Mandarin, and in nano-seconds the translations were readily available on the web.  They tried a variety of security schemes, including using paper that would start smoldering the minute it was exposed to fresh air…even faster if the air was stale.  Still, the Underground found out that a natural, organic yellowish fluid would quickly extinguish the fire, and were able to foil that attempt.

But now they truly believe they’ve got it.  One nerdly staffer, recently uncloseted, discovered a unique ancient strand of Egyptian hieroglyphics, and wrote the current “Cap and Hoopskirt” bill in this obscure signology.  So far, no one has been able to crack it.  It’s premature, but there are some pre-celebrations happening in the hallowed halls.

Leaders are happy and relieved that their hard work of concocting convoluted, self-grandizing, earmark-loaded slimy bills will not be subject to a lot of cry-baby, hand-wringing, mamby-pamby scrutiny.  They feel that the whole “light of day” mumbo-jumbo is, and always has been, overrated…plus it undermines the critically important process of back-scratching, butt-kissing quid pro quo which defines how things work in this town.

Special security has been arranged for the Nerdball who discovered the ancient hieroglyphics.  He has been disguised by dressing him in a polo shirt, khakis, and dock shoes, taking away his well-worn leather briefcase and giving him a Blackberry…no one will ever suspect.

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.

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.”