The People's Cube - Political Satire

I am here, on the 22nd floor of the Grand America Hotel in Salt Lake City and things could not be worse. I've had a headache for a whole 24 hours. It started last night--I can't think why. Normally I only get a headache from wine that I pay for but this bottle was on a room-service cart, going to a room that was not my room so why should I get a headache from drinking it? I told the boy that something had fallen off the cart just around the corner and when he went back to check on it, the bottle left with me. I'm as good about seeing the vintage of a bottle of wine as our Many Titted Empress is at weighing someone's wallet while it's in his pants. Or as The Chosen One is at filling up a balloon from across the room.

I suppose the bus boy will get fired for that but I'm not likely to run onto him at Davos and so screw him. Well, I certainly did. And that wine still gave me a headache. Is there no justice?

This morning I was lying in bed this morning, composing myself and trying to channel dear Karl Marx, by thinking good socialist thoughts, to get rid of that headache. I was saying my Hail Marxes: It's for the children™. It's good to be green™. Buckle Up. It's the Law™. Only Use One Sheet to Wipe™.

And as I was getting some serious alpha patterns going, there was a horrible sound beneath the window.

A car wreck, and a big one. And then the crying. Some fool woman was crying that her husband was bleeding and would someone get an ambulance? She would not shut up so I threw everything over the balcony that I could get, only making my headache worse, except my luggage of course, and anything that I'd happen to come across that I wanted to take home with me, but despite having lamps and ice buckets pelting the ground around her that fool woman would be concerned for her husband.

I'm a little bit harsh of course--there's nothing wrong with the lower orders feeling concern for their own, and in fact I encourage it in my proles, for if they care for each other it's less that I have to pay for. But I absolutely draw the line at their little sorrows being amplified by the wailing of sirens and flashing lights, none of it helping with my headache.

As they say in Hollywood, my headache, your heart attack. Which is sensible only when I'm saying it. I think that, come the Progressive World of Next Tuesday™ I shall declare that Salt Lake is the noisy city and shall level it, not letting one stone stand on another. That'll teach it to make noise when I'm hurting from stolen wine.

And anyway, these rubes tend to vote, and I can hardly type the word, Republican.

A screaming woman and a head splitting headache. Just thinking about it is giving my mind crimes to think about (making it hurt too).

Commissar Theocritus wrote: That'll teach it to make noise when I'm hurting from stolen wine.

Not "stolen" comrade. When we take something that should belong to us - it is "redistribution." When somebody takes something from us - it is "theft" and later the "Gulag."

Ah, yes, Vodkov, you are right. I could have considered it an extralegislative tax. For it will never do for the proles to have too much for then they get uppity.

But Jeez. The sound of that woman's screams still ring in my ears. All right, woman, if he kicks, the State will get you another. You're still strong enough to be a good brood mare for the party.

Commissar Theocritus wrote:...Some fool woman was crying that her husband was bleeding and would someone get an ambulance?

Aaah, I cannot wait until next Tuesday when the Party of Obama will provide FREE healthcare for all! Then, her husband will not have to WAIT for the treatment he is entitled to!



...Unless, of course, it is something the Party has deemed as ineffective or wasteful of the People's resources. Like ambulances. But why should the toil of the workers be wasted on a dead person? Can't she carry him to the mortuary?

Opiate, I don't care WTF she does as long as she does it quietly. After all, it's all about me, isn't it? To have my repose disturbed. If she <i>had</i> to be in a car wreck, do it in front of the Tabernacle. That's a half mile to the north and I bet there are some Mormon doctors hanging around there.