bizarreville

When the President instructed all citizens to jump off the Fiscal Cliff, Johnnie was reluctant.  He had been a staunch supporter of the Chief Exec, even voted for him in the November election.  He particularly liked the way the President said he was going to go after those nasty rich guys who had good jobs but were not paying their fair share of taxes.  Johnnie knew that those guys were going to have to jump off an even bigger, steeper cliff.  And, well, it served them right for being so damn greedy.  But as Johnnie approached the precipice, he began to wonder…began to question this brand of leadership:  trust me, I’ve got your back.  Johnnie looked around and did not see anyone with a life line that would take care of his back, his front, or any other body part for that matter.

Johnnie had been watching the TV news.  His favorite station, Channel 7 Marxwitness News, had interviewed a left-leaning senator who confidently explained that it was not really a fiscal “cliff”, more of a fiscal playground slide.  “Well then why do they call it a cliff, if it’s only a slide” he thought.  “And why, when I look down this fall-off does it look like I will need an EMT squad when I hit bottom?”

He inched forward, loosening a few pebbles that tumbled down the cliff…bouncing along on the jagged rocks until they finally launched themselves for uninterrupted treks to the bottom.  Is that how he would tumble…carom off a few rocks, causing some minor bruises and lacerations before being pushed away from the rocky surface for the bullet train to the bottom?  Or would he snowball down the cliff, painfully tumbling round and round like some Hanna Barbera cartoon character?

Johnnie backed away for a minute.  He began to wonder why it was necessary that he jump off the cliff.  After all, he had done nothing wrong, nothing unscrupulous.  Well, there was that one time that he padded his expense account on that training trip…but he would gladly refund the $3.50 now to avoid this calamity.  His neighbor Fred was a lot more unscrupulous.  Fred even lied on his resume about that time he got canned…said it was his own decision to leave the company.  Baaah, he was drop-kicked like a worn-out rugby ball.  He ought to be jumping off the cliffs of Dover.

Then he remembered the President’s speech last week, explaining how jumping was everyone’s patriotic duty.  Johnnie, if nothing else, was certainly a patriot.  He knew he could never go back into town and have everyone accuse him of being an unpatriotic piece of chicken crap.  It would be a life of shame, hiding from ridicule and finger-pointing of fellow citizens…turning away from the whispers and head shakes from friends who thought they knew him better…being uninvited to Thanksgiving football watching by embarrassed family members.  Being called a Jumpless Wonder.  No, that would never do.

Johnnie looked down the face of the cliff one more time.  Hey, he thought… he might just get a little banged-up, but come out surviving.  He could buy himself a tee-shirt proudly saying “I survived the Fiscal Cliff jump”.  He could wear that shirt to Thanksgiving Day football next year.

He gulped hard, inched a little bit forward…a little more…a teensy bit more.  Then the alarm went off.