4 Sale
by Rick Tornello
4 Sale, yep that’s
what the Library of Congress posted on the
Government Web Site, “The Bill Of
Rights, 4 Sale.”
The new Congress, controlled by the Right-Wig-Tea-Bags
had decided to sell the Bill of Rights to the
highest bidders, with a first edition copy to
boot, in order to cut the deficit and to
allow their moneyed crony/backers the unmitigated
right to do as they pleased.
By owning the BOR, the new
holders could enforce whatever part they chose to,
whenever they wanted, and they could contradict
themselves if so desired. It was a win- win
situation for all concerned. Concern was only an
issue for those with the money who by necessity
needed to be concerned. The poor and middle-milked
classes had no actual say in matters, nor have
they ever. It’s just been a façade
perpetrated every few years in a circus called
elections.
In a joyful extravaganza,
the famous auction house, Smootheoverbees
conducted the auction on the floor of the Senate
to full world wide video viewing. The
planet was glued, the ratings the highest ever.
Protesters were locked away in internment camps
in Siberia and the high desert and left to starve
as did POWs in Russia during the Second War of
Crony Capitalism.
Would General Eclectic, or
General Mildew or The Central Kingdom pony up?
Bets were being madly made in Lost Wages, Nuevo
Mexidope.
What happened was a total
surprise.
You all heard of SETI, the
search for intelligence somewhere in the universe,
obviously not here. Well, They showed
up. Apparently scientists figured a way to jump
back in time from the ABELL 520 Cluster, aka
Train Wreck Cluster, and decided to invest in the
this planets’ futures on the Universal
Commodities Exchange.
****
“Going once, going
twice, do I hear 3 billion metric tons of gold, 3
billion, 3 billion.” The slam of the Senate
gavel ended it as the President of the Senate,
declared, “Sold to the ABELL 520 Cluster for
250 billion metric tons of gold.”
The gold was deposited in
the vaults at Ft. Hardknocks and the numbered
Swisscheese accounts of each Right-Wig-Tea-Bag
member. The Train Wreck Group now had
unrestricted right to do as they damned well
pleased.
‘It’s nothing
personal, just business’ was the mantra for
the newly super powerful. It reminded me of an
old refrain from some friends of mine from NY and
NJ. I wasn’t fooled.
****
“Hey Frankie,” I
called. “You see this.” The Papers of
State have just been auctioned off to these
astrogeeks from somewhere 2.4 billion years away.
They just paid in gold. Look at the Senate floor,
their climbing over each other.”
“Yeah, gotta hand it
to them, those RWTBs really had big cajones to
pull that one off. Now we’re gonna see some
real action. BTW Johnnie, no talking to
anyone, the big boys have an in on this one.
Seems as if one of the Bosses kids is an
astronomer working the SETI project and knew
about it before it hit the press. He got and
inside line, sort of like having options on
Google before it went big. Well he told G.F.
and G.F. handed him some money and made
some phone calls to who the fuck knows, and I don’t
want to either, but the point is our family now
owns NY, NJ, and get this, we have options on a
few new pieces of business.”
“How’s it gonna
work?” I questioned.
“We’re part of
their syndicate as they call it, pretty funny, no?
They get a percentage of all they claim are
theirs and we get to do what ever we want with
the rest. We own the local contracts. We can’t
be touched. What’s more, we’re going to
purchase a few other countries’ paper. These
guys from Abell 520 are out here purchasing up a
bunch of other planets too, as I understand from
the little pigeon. So we get in on the ground
floor. The idiots from RWTB have no clue what’s
gonna hit them.”
“Whata you mean?”
“Hey, gavone!
Johnnie, We OWN IT. We Fucken OWN IT. Well,
520 owns it, but we are the muscle and it has it
benefits.”
“Old style, new form.
Any problems from the citizenry expected?”
“You gotta be kidding.
Mouth off and gone to who knows where. You gonna
chase these guys through the universe? Don’t
think so. They are the only ones with the
vehicles. It’s one way, our way or the space-way,
no suit, get it?”
“Yeah, I got it. So
who provides the muscle just in case some general
in some country doesn’t like the New Order?”
“Most have bought in
and are being enlisted into these SETI’s
military. They get to play with new toys and no
questions. They actually work for us. Oh BTW,
cousin, there are benefits to this you wouldn’t
believe, if you know what I mean. Just don’t
let the old lady know. Dead is dead and you can’t
enjoy it being off line. If we’re not kings
we’re damned close.”
“So Frankie, what
happens after they get what they want?”
“They leave and it’s
a waste land. But we’ll be gone by then. Or
they terraform it to a playground for other
planets and we, our families run it like a giant
Wisneylany. I would bet on the latter,
since the populations will be used to taking
orders from the BOSSES.”
****
I had to hand it to Frankie.
He had it figured out. It was pretty good. Luck
was a lady to us, and we wouldn’t disappoint
a lady of such high stature. We played these
games on a smaller scale compared to this
syndicate. We were good and trusted soldiers.
“Hey sweetie, I said
to the waitress, “please,” I’m
always polite to the help, “please get me a
drink and a round for the house too.”
“Life is gonna be
great. You know what, it ain’t much
different anywhere. We’ll do just fine.”
By,
Richard Tornello © 2012
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