bizarreville

The Bizarreville Tea Partiers assembled at the Monument Saturday morning, numbering in the hundreds of thousands.  Speakers talked about returning the nation to simple core values, prayer, personal responsibility, and pragmatic leadership.  Speaker after speader took to the podium to express his or her idyllic vision for the future. 

The crowd was initially very enthusiastic.  But they began to become restless, anxious, and soon became agitated when it became quite apparent that no tea was going to be served.  No earl grey, no english breakfast, no darjeeling, no afternoon delight.  No tea.

A small group of tea-drinkers in the back of the crowd started chanting, “We want tea.  We want tea.  We want tea.”  Before you knew it, the whole crowd seemed to erupt into the Tea chant.  The keynote speaker desperately tried to get the rally back on track by talking about tax reductions, investment incentives, and federal budget balancing…normally sure-fire themes.  But clearly the crowd wanted brewed refreshments, probably settling for anything of a brewed nature.

The speaker explained that the “Tea Party” was just a metaphor for the government’s wanton disregard for citizens’ input in regard to tax policy, individual freedoms, health care policy, government bailouts, reckless spending, and arbitrary law-making.  He explained that the nation was wandering in darkness, and needed a movement to help shine the light on their leaders’ misguidedness.  A citizen in the front row yelled out, “Yeah, we’re with you on the darkness thing.  But we still thought you were springing for the tea, man.  I’m parched.”

Eventually some of the rally organizers scrambled, bought out the tea inventories at nearby convenience stores, and started handing out bottles.  But by this time, a large throng of partiers had bailed, and were rumored to had reconvened at several nearby watering holes.

“Next time, don’t forget the friggin’ tea!” the keynote scolded as he stormed out of Monument Park.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fictional, even the ones that seem pretty darn real.

Due to the flood of requests to allow readers of Bizarreville to get a glimse inside our book, Tales of Obamaland, below is an excerpt from one of the 21 fables.  This fable is titled “Labelmania”, a fun satirical story about the medical breakthrough of the century and how corporate lawyers “helped” things along.  It’s just a portion of the fable…sorry, have to buy the book to get the rest of the story.

LABELMANIA

In market tests in Shmooville.

Get your own copy of Tales of Obamaland to find out how this crazy fable concludes.  Buy a copy of the book for a friend who is taking things just a little too seriously and needs to lighten up a bit.  Buy it for a lawyer.  Just click on Amazon.com or any of the other e-retailers in the sidebar to the right.  And thanks for your support for Bizarreville.

Followers of the religion Vegetism are not strangers to controversy.  Their faithful have faced the scorns of many naysayers who have criticized their unusual worship of plants, fruits, and vegetables.  But their latest initiative has created an uproar in the non-Vegetism population.

It all started when the Vegites announced plans to purchase property to build an enormous worship site near Ground Zero, obviously regarded as a sacred place by many people.  It got even more heated when it became known that the Vegite worship site would, in fact, be a gigantic 50-foot high compost pile full of potato peelings, grass clippings, skunk beer, stale fruit, and other vegetating crud that would normally find its way into a garbage disposal. 

Opponents have claimed that the people responsible for the 911 disaster may well have been on some kind of nutty, vegetable diet causing short-circuits in their reasoning power.  Vegite supporters insist there is no evidence, no proof, no information whatsoever that supports such a goofy notion. 

People who are close to the opponents but refused to go on record say that there is a hidden agenda reason for opposing the Vegite shrine.  They say that the pile will just stink to high heaven.  Merchants in a 6-block radius will not be able to stay open during hot summer days because of the overwhelming stench from this pile of decaying garbage.  They say they asked whether the stinky pile could be enclosed, but the Vegite leaders had refused saying that the compost pile will not properly biodegrade inside.

It is not clear how this battle will end.  Administration officials say that this is a free country and people should be allowed to build what they want, be able to worship the way they want without undue/arbitrary restrictions.  One insider said that he thinks it is funny/ironic that many opposers are free enterprise supporters on most other issues, but for some reason, oppose this one because it does not fit their own agenda.  “You can’t have it both ways,” he said, while chowing down a vegetable hot dog.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction.

“Good morning, it’s 7:42 and we’re back with Fat Talk.  Are you as outraged as I am about these new proposed regulations in Bizarreville that would put a 50-cent tax on every can and bottle of non-diet soft drinks?  I mean, first it was the flap about having to pay for 2 airline seats if you were over 275 pounds…now this?  Call me at 1-800-CHUNKSTER, lines are open.  These feeble attempts by the government to thin us down to some pre-determined limit have gone too far, and it’s high time we rebel.  Our layers are bought and paid-for.  But here comes Big Brother again feeling a new social calling to manage personal behavior.  1-800-CHUNKSTER.  First call is from some skinny guy in Flumplard.”

“Yeah, first time caller, long-time listener.  You know you fat slobs sit around all day eating box after box of Oreos, bag after bag of nacho cheeseballs, Twinkies by the carload.  You don’t exercise, you don’t jazzercize, you never consider dieting, you just eat, fart, and s#!$ around the house…”

“So…..what’s your point?”

“My point is:  you and your tub-master listeners need to stop continually jamming your pie-holes.  Your obesity is affecting your health, and all of us skinny taxpayers are picking up the tab.  Most of you are too fat and too lazy to work, so you end up sucking away on the government dole.  Even without a job, you somehow still find ways to overeat, even if it mean sacrificing the roof over your head to get that double cheeseburger.”

“You sound like you need some Anger Management therapy, my friend.  There’s a good therapist …right next to the Main Street Bakery in Flumplard…mmmm…best peach cobblers I’ve ever eaten.  Like a peach explosion in your mouth.  And cupcakes.  Once bought a dozen of their red velvet cupcakes…melt in your mouth awesome.  Try it.  Next caller…?

“Hi.  I was going to make a point about the soft drink tax, but you reminded me of another bakery in Flumplard.  It’s right on the corner of 4th and Flumplard Boulevard…called Creamy Dreams, or something like that.  They make their own fudge that they spread over giant pecan danish pastries.  Never had anything like it.  You should try it.”

“Mmmmm…sounds good.  I may go there after the show is over.  You know, while we’re on the subject of bakeries, I just heard a rumor that a new business is opening up in Shlonktown to DELIVER fresh bakery items to your home…right to your front door.  That’s right …something we have been advocating for years…reminiscent of the old bread trucks, but this time with trays of all kinds of yummy baked goodies.  Don’t even have to get off the couch.  Call me if you know anything about this at 1-800-CHUNKSTER.  It can be such a hassle to traipse down to a bakery a couple times a day.  And, if you’re like me, you smell the place and never want to leave…here’s another skinny guy on the line.”

“Why don’t you just move into a bakery?  Do your whole show from inside a freaking bakery every day?  That way you could just blather for 3 hours about all the smells and new concoctions the baker is whipping up…put all your listeners into a sugar-induced fantasy trance…”

“Not a bad idea….hey, Johnnie, put that on our list for next week.  Man, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.  Got any more of those Ho-ho’s or Ding-dong’s hidden in your console back there, Johnnie?  Be honest, you chubby twerp.  Hand ’em over.   Back in a minute….”

The advancement of Mr. Alvin Greene, Democratic nominee for the Senate from South Carolina, has inspired a brand new segment of the Bizarreville population to consider seeking government office.  The so-called “air head” sector has become a larger and larger political force in the country, and many feel it is about time for this group to be fairly represented.  Besides, most everyone has realized that you do not need to be that smart to be in the Senate anyway.

Mr. Greene started this movement by surprisingly capturing the South Carolina Senate Democratic primary.  He was an unemployed man who had just been involuntarily tossed out of the military after getting numerous poor evaluations, citing him as an ineffective leader who lacked organization and was unable to express thoughts clearly.  He ran in the primary with basically no money, no campaigning, no website, few appearances…somehow managing to win overwhelmingly.  Pundits were initially confused about the outcome, until they determined that the jugheads, bean brains, and noodle noggen citizens in the state rallied together, came out in force to vote, and pushed him to easy victory.

Even though Mr Greene has some sort of college degree, he is appealing to the constituency of illiterate, uneducated knuckleheads who want a voice…even if it is a voice that can’t utter a coherent thought.  Other low-IQ people are now considering a run at political office, according to officials at the National Association of High School Dropouts and Beauty School Dropouts.  “Our members are sick and tired of smart, educated people thumbing their noses at them.  And they are particularly sick and tired of lawyer types and other elitists who drive around in their Buicks, and couldn’t care less about people who just happen to have mush between their ears.  Our members are starting to figure out where the polling places are, and believe me, they will start showing up on Election Day… if they don’t forget.”

Senior Senators were initially taken back by the fear of having dozens of low-IQ’ers part of their esteemed body. They considered trying to pass a quick measure to establish a minimum 50 IQ standard to be qualified to serve in the Senate.  During the debate, however, it was pointed out that many of the current incumbents might not pass the 50 IQ standard, so the issue has been tabled for now.  Some Senators are taking it in stride, and think the new wave of nincompoops could actually work to their advantage.  “Smart people can be a disadvantage,” said one Senator.  “The smart ones tend to ask too many questions on every bill, over-analyze every paragraph and clause, argue points ad-nauseum.  Getting a few drones in here will make life much simpler…just vote this way, and shut up.  I’m starting to like it already.”

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones that seem pretty darn real.

With the Bizarreville public school system in such an utter financial mess and facing infrastructure collapse, officials have formed committees, task forces, and special focus groups to help develop solutions.  The School Commission retained noted pollster Dimbleweed and Frumpp Inc. to gauge public acceptance/relunctance to enact a tax increase to aid the struggling school programs.  Over 2000 people were surveyed and interviewed from a cross-section of citizens.

The poll found that 49% of people surveyed favored a tax increase to pour good, new dollars into previously failed school programs.  39 percent opposed any sort of new tax, while 12% did not understand the question.

Initially, analysts thought this was a shocking result.  On closer examination, however, the picture became clearer.  Nearly all of the 49 percent favoring increased taxes were people who pay no taxes themselves, and are card-carrying bonefide lunks who sponge off the system.  Exit poll interviews with them revealed a strong desire to soak the rich a little more, especially those with jobs, savings accounts, credit cards instead of debit cards, and/or families without one or more deadbeat dads.  Interviewees felt that the best way to solve the school system problems was to piss away more money at it, especially since it was not their money.  One interviewee, to make a point, dropped his drawers and peed on a nearby mailbox. 

“Education is important,” another survey-respondent said, “and we need to support our schools.  In fact, we need to give all the teachers a raise, build some new buildings, and rehire teachers who were fired just because they’re not so good at teaching.  And while we’re at it, we need more free lunches with better food besides just pizza and salads.  And different flavor shakes besides just chocolate and vanilla…get some variety.”

It is still not certain how the Commission will use these poll results in determining how to bolster the sagging system.  Taxes may be part of the answer, but since fewer and fewer people actually pay tax anymore, there will need to be a broader-based solution.  A sub-committee has been formed to deal with non-tax proposals, but so far has not come up with any ideas.

Federal officials have been outspoken about states wanting to take illegal immigration control into their own hands.  They have been particularly disturbed about Arizona’s proposed law which would give the right to law enforcement to check residency status for scoundrels who rob a convenience store, drive like reckless maniacs, or beat up an innocent child.  Candidates running in primary elections in many other states have stated they support the Arizona law, and would push to have it adopted in their state, if elected.

Government officials have threatened to file law suits over these laws or proposed laws to head them off at the pass.  They say that the federal government has firm quotas on how many illegals are allowed to enter the country, and if states start cracking down, they may fall short of meeting their quotas for illegals.

“We had several months last winter where we fell disappointingly short,” said Illegal Immigration Czar Jose Mafunknutz.  “We tried to open the borders more, even offered free tacos and beer at several border stations, but still could not seem to draw enough interest.  Volume has picked up recently, but we’re afraid that when cold weather starts hitting the midwest, there will be another falloff as the potential aliens elect to just stay home.”

Malfunknutz is very concerned about the potential for profiling if the Arizona law becomes template for other states.  “You cannot discriminate against a person just because he or she is involved in drug trafficking, drunken driving, causing a public nuisance by peeing in alleys, or all of the above.  That is clearly profiling, and totally illegal.  We have staffs of lawyers who will protect the rights of the drunken public pissers to the fullest extent, and warn all police officers that we will go after their badges if they engage in this type of blatant discrimination.  Come on…let’s all get along…after all, when people gotta go, they gotta go.”

State governments seem unfazed by the federal sword rattling, and are proceeding with crack-down plans regardless. 

All stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even the ones that seem so real.

The President and his crack staff of spendaholics had made campaign promises to not come up with any new taxes.  But they still had the insatiable appetite to spend, spend, and spend a little more.  Like a 400-pound chowhound sitting behind a plate of savory double bacon cheeseburgers, the temptation was simply irresistable.  Yes, they would engorge themselves with those meaty burgers…but how would they pay the tab?  What sucker could they get to pick up the check?

The President had an idea….roll back old tax cuts.  Naturally that wouldn’t be a tax increase, per se.  It would just be the expiration of a tax decrease…in his mind, a totally acceptable loophole that could withstand the “depends on what the definition of ‘is’ is” kind of legal scrutiny.  Moreover, it would be an action that the President could undertake and have a complete illusion of a clear conscience.  After all, he had previously made speeches about the millions of job loss avoidances from his stimulus programs….this latest idea was certainly no more a truth-stretcher than that one.

So, they rolled back the Bush tax cuts, all of them:  the ones that benefited the filthy rich bastards, the ones that helped the semi-filthy middle class creeps, and the ones that gave a spark to the not-too-filthy lower incomers.  Oh, there was joy in the White House, and high-fives all around as the nasty tax cuts finally met their maker.

But then, Gilbert Shnoodle, senior adviser to the President, suggested they go ahead and roll back the Reagan tax cuts.  “Sure!” cried the staffers, “Why not?  Why not take a little more hide away from all those greedy SOB’s?”  So, they immediately passed legislation to cancel those old Reagan tax cuts, driving top marginal rates to 70 percent.  By this time, the martinis were flowing freely, and any inhibitions about being a  radical dirtbag flew out the window. 

Another staffer suggested:  “Why stop there?  There have been many Presidents who have cut taxes over the years.”  Before you knew it, they had rolled back the Nixon, Kennedy, Eisenhower, Truman, and Hoover tax cuts.  By the time it was over, the average tax rate was 62%, and the top marginal rate was 94%.  The staffers were so ecstatic, they went ahead and had a toga party.

There was some public bemoaning and bellyaching about this new radical tax policy.  But Administration officials insisted that the President completely abided by his promise of no new taxes…never said anything about unearthing some of the golden oldies.

All Stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even ones that seem sorta real.

The Senate hearings for the newly appointed general started off very well, with the general spewing well-rehearsed answers to scripted questions.  Naturally, he was extensively questioned about B.O., the B.O. incident, and body odor in general.  Of course, his lack of smell impairment was weaved into every response, further punctuated by the fact that he himself smelled like he had not showered in about 2 weeks.  His fragrance of dead fish floating in a sulfur spring made the point to all the senators on the panel.

But, as they probed beneath his odorous surface, the found several disturbing nuances in his background.  Allegations came forth of tax fraud, soliciting prostitution, and most importantly, speaking when not spoken to.  The first 2 charges were basically dismissed by the senate committee panel, deemed not critical to confirmation.  “Tax law, after all, is a confusing mess of non-understandable garblety gook and ambiguous jibberish,” said one senator.  It was echoed by several other senators, who at one time or another had been accused of dodging tax, when they claimed that the system they themselves devised was just too damn complicated. 

And solicitation was considered by the panel to be a soft crime in Bizarreville.  People such as the general are under intense pressure…fighting wars, filling out interminable bureaucratic report forms, trying to look busy, etc….a person in such a situation needs a release.  And besides, as evidence presented itself, General Munkfard only offered her 50 bucks, which wouldn’t have gotten him even a toe suck. 

But the last charge was a huge concern.  “It’s a question of character,” the committee chairman said.  “It is unconscionable that any officer, let alone a general, cannot understand this basic expectation.”  A specific example was presented when Munkfard was speaking to a general 8 years ago without having filled out a request form ahead of time, or even getting verbal permission.

“He just came out and talked,” an eyewitness said.  “No Form 3471-B was filled out, no Attachment 13F, none of that.  I didn’t have a 3471-B with me at the time, or I would have offered it to him.  I had a 3471-A, but not a “B”…doggone it…not a “B”.  I tried to warn him, but he just went on talking, like he was talking to some buddy in a bar.  It was shocking…shocking.”

The general still has a good chance of being confirmed by this Committee, who just needs to approve a warm body to run the stupid war.  It is unlikely that the President will find another senior officer with a nose handicap, and the committee members understand this dilemma.  Voting is expected by week’s end.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction.  Sorry to those who thought this was a scoop.

The President announced that he could no longer tolerate smart-alec insubordination and disrespect in his commanding general.  So he put his ass on a slow boat to Cleveland, and fired him on the spot.

The General had told Lazy Funk magazine that he didn’t care for the President’s choice of underarm deodorant.  “He’s got B.O., and the cheddar cheese fragrance of the roll-on (that he apparently gets from Cracker Barrel) makes the whole Oval office smell like a 400-pound jogger,” said the General.  “If he’s going to shop at the Barrel, maybe he ought to see if they have something a little less dairy.”

Even though the General has had a distinguished 35-year career, and has led the nation in defending against nasty enemies and lunatics while risking his life, the B.O. comment was just too mean, too cruel, and very inappropriate, according to the President.  “The General should have just held his freaking nose like the rest of us,” an Insider said.  “Maybe he could have just shot him a Ralph Lauren fragrance gift pack for Christmas, and let nature run its course.”

The General said he has had a lot of offers and looks forward to joining the private sector.  Several cologne companies have allegedly made him attractive offers to be their spokesman, parlaying his notoriety as a sudden odor expert, and a solid defender of the right to not have to breathe stale air.  “It’s in the Declaration…life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness…no way you’re going to be pursuing happiness in a stink pot,” he said.

The President appointed General Lucius Munkfard to the post as his replacement.  Munkfard is a highly decorated officer, who coincidently lost his sense of smell in Vietnam during heavy chemical bombing many years ago.  He said he can pretty much withstand any foe, whether it be enemy combatant or just pure unadulterated stink.

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

The President, in a desperate attempt to change his pansy image, attended the National Asskicker Society meeting this week.  Members unanimously voted him Honorary Chief of the Society for “showing the mean angry face of a determined bully who meant business and would take no prisoners.”  The President was humbled so much in this designation that the Board almost decided to take the honor away from him.

The Chairman of the Society, Elfred DeJong, officially known as the F#?%Head Supreme, said that the President has made great strides in flushing out his inherent weenyness that had made him the lapdog of the bleeding heart liberals.  “But we need to see more than just a snippet or two of tough talk,” he said.  “We need to see him chasing down those Washington idiots across the White House lawn and literally be kicking their asses along the chase.  We want it to look like a bloody Three Stooges routine.  He needs to be Moe.  That’s when we’ll be truly convinced of his ability to earn the honor bestowed upon him today.  We’ll be watching.”

A spokesman for the President said he is going to seriously try hard to be an A-1 Asskicker, even though it runs against all his natural instincts.  He has started watching old James Cagney face-slapping movies, and some Clint Eastwood Dirty Harry movies to better learn classic jerkism.  He has even considered pulling out the old strap on his kids.  The President has cancelled his memberships in the Mamby Pamby Society, the Gutless Wonders Association, and the Men With Tears.  “He’s committed.  There will be no tear sheds around here, believe me.”

As the President left the National Asskickers Society meeting, he tripped on his shoelace and fell flat on his face.  “There’s still work to do,” the President said as he brushed off his Armani suit.  The Society Chairman said that they could always retract the honor if he returns to acting like a boob.

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

Nancy Pelosi…come on down!!  You are the next contestant on the Price is Fright.  Whooop, whooop, whooop.  Okay contestants, here we go.  Johnny, what’s the next item up for bid?

Bob, the next item is….a package of 100 fresh new jobs!!!!  These are not just any jobs.  They are jobs for people with no skill whatsoever.  From Slob Mart, your source for thumb-twiddling that keeps people busy…but not too busy.  Nancy?

I’ll bid $100 billion.

Wow, Nancy, that’s about $ 1 million per worker.  Remember this is just wheel-spinning type work, not brain surgery.  Harry?

Yeah, that’s way too high for jobs that are basically make-work jobs.  Come on, give me a break.  I’ll say $78 billion.

Okay, now we’re getting serious.  Joe….you’re next…

I’ll bid one dollar.

One dollar for 100 jobs??  Are you just plain nuts, are you smoking dope, are you a babbling nincompoo…..ooops, never mind.  Okay, one dollar.  Barack?

It’s not as simple as just bidding for jobs at some arbitrary price.  It’s about the impact this type of job creation will do to the overall national economy.  These 100 jobs will be a catalyst to spark job creation on a broad scale, across each and every industry, from autos to computer information systems, from high-end consulting to low-end toilet cleaning.  And how do you measure the value of creating these jobs?  You can’t ….

Barack, Barack….please, man.  Just shut up.  Shut your cake hole, and give me a freaking bid already.

$62 billion.  There….you happy now?  You dirty, good-for-nothing mother mrrrrr,  mrrrrrr, mrrrrr, mrrrrr….

Thank you.  Retail price….$62 billion!!  Barack, you got the number precisely on the dot.  How did you ever do that?

It’s easy, Bob.  He’s the one who makes up the friggin’ numbers.  He pulls the number out of thin air, and pooof, it’s a done deal.  If he would have said $200 billion, the answer you would have shouted would have been $200 billion.  Are you that naive?

Harry, it sounds like there is a little resentment building there in your craw.  Am I right?  A little jealousy going on between you and the big guy?  Are you getting your little snoot in a wrinkle?

No, Bob.  I don’t care if he always wins.  I mean we’re all winners when we dump $62 billion to create jobs in the important “unskilled” element of the labor force…the guys who can’t walk and chew gum…the poor fellows who add zero value to our national productivity.  We know that if the government doesn’t do it, no one will.  Certainly the private sector won’t do its civic duty by offering these poor deadbeat souls a job.  No, Bob, I’m happy and proud to be playing the game, and frankly can’t wait for the next item up for bid.

(Buzzzzzz).  I’m sorry, but we’re out of time for today.  But please join us tomorrow, when our contestants will be bidding on a research study to evaluate the consistency of hedgehog bowel movements.  Until then,  good night friends.

Disclaimer:  all stories in Bizarreville are fiction, even game shows