Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Flash, Bang Bang

Flash, Bang Bang

“Gimme all ya ‘oney! Said gimme all ya ‘oney!” July 4th, 2010.
Flash. Bang, bang.
Take it all—I swear, it’s all I have!”
Reload.
Nah, it isn’t! ‘e’ll get dah same if yuh don’t cough up! I’ll drop ‘er,’ll do it man, ‘ll do it!”
Click.
“It’s all I have, man, this entire year I’ve had nothin,’ nothin’, man!”
“’Ou dun’ got nutin’, man? ‘Ou ain’t got nutin? I ‘orked here eight years, I know ‘ou got money! ‘Ntill ya shut me out!”
“These r ‘ard times, man, we both know that”—
“No. You wouldn’t know the first thing about ‘ard times.’ ‘Ntill now.”
Flash. Bang, bang.

July 5th, 2010.
Just like the president of the United States, every mayor sits down with his administration and discusses pressing issues and threats to the jurisdiction they represent every morning.

“Well, Mr. Donald, we have a list of very serious issues to discuss,” said his aid Carlos.

“Oh?” Mr. Donald, the mayor of Brooklyn, looked expectantly at his aid over the top of his glasses.

“Firstly, the people are angry with your campaign performance.”

“Again? Write them a check. Dedicate $20,000 to the educational system.”

His aid nodded, scribbling away furiously as he took down notes.

“As for the homeless”—his aid began—

“Buy 5,000 sleeping bags to keep them warm.” Mr. Donald looked thoughtful, and scratched his chin.

“Poverty rates are up to 20%, sir. Close to 1 in 5 people in the city are homeless.”

Mr. Donald nodded, acknowledging his aid. “These are tough economic times. And tough economic times call for drastic action. Make that 6,000.”

His aid flipped a page, and continued to write. “Our team has been working around the clock to find solutions to deaths due to gang violence—”

“Put down “lower gun regulation.” The people need to have the resources to stand their ground.”

“Did you come up with that idea, sir?”

Donald looked at him, face blank and posture composed. “Of course.”

Scribble. Carlos’ pen went from left to right, skipped a line, danced across another line—

“Back to education for a second; they said we are not promoting “quality education” for kids today”—

“Not promoting it? We bought them T-shirts last week.”

His aid nodded in agreement. “Yes, but we may need to explore additional strategies”—

“Additional strategies? Those T-shirts had “Stay in School” written across it. There was a picture of a man driving an Aston Martin, for God’s sake.”

“Right, but they complained of a lack of funding”—

“We’re already sending the $20,000. Get the private school parents to start paying their fair share; everyone in public or private deserves an equal opportunity
to succeed.”

“Sir, I recommend we rather fundraise at local community centers to gather funding for the public schools”—

“No. Private school kids should be guilty of their crime.”

Hesitation: then Carlos scribbled away. “I’m assuming, then, media distortion, benevolent demand, the u”—

“Yes. Oh, and—about the homeless—make sure to get heat-retaining sleeping bags. Sleeping next to hundreds of people is less than ideal; with the right sleeping bags, I’m sure they’ll be fine outside.”

Carlos paused, looking over his notes. “Homelessness, media slant, sleeping bags…I think we got it all.” Carlos closed his notebook and put away his pen. “Breakfast will be at ten,” and left the room.

Donald reached for a remote to turn on the news. He paused to smile at a piece of paper, relishing its presence.

On Donald’s desk was a multitude of confusing papers with quick initial scribbles of ideas. He pushed a few aside and looked at one which said, according to the title, “TO BE INSTATED:”

To kill the Mind, one must make thy enemy place greater interest in common intelligence than individual.

To kill virtue, you must criminalize it.

To hide theft, you must close the backroom doors.

To disguise poverty and systemic collapse of order, you must have a scapegoat, one that is motivated by profit.

Ayn Rand was wrong: it is not good that money is the product of intelligence and of man’s ability to think; both are the grossest act of sin.

Self-reliance must be killed and all must surrender for the common good; to assume otherwise is not only birth of the individual but consequently the death of government. Emerson is a fallacy.

Mr. Locke may have guided us to life, liberty, property, but he has a right to only one.

Schools with their inherent collectivism will, and must, produce “consumers for life.”

Man does not have power or right over his own Mind. Only I do.

Smiling proudly at himself, Donald turned on the news and watched his inauguration speech, watching the body language, posture, and emphasis, simply blown away. That’s how you win 51.8% approval rating, he thought with a grin on his face.

He stretched and sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head as he watched the speech, the 51.8% smiling, the children jumping up and down, the women screaming wildly. The camera panned across hundreds of tiny little heads and cycled upwards. It viewed blue, red, and white fireworks as they danced across the sky, streaming through puffy clouds as they crackled and popped—

Flash, bang bang.


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