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Senator Hubris Staff Meeting & Discussions Concerning the DOJ

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Senator Hubris plopped into a padded chair situated at the head of a table lined with sycophant staff members and immediately reached into the basket of croissants placed in front of him.

“Any good news this morning?” he asked around a mouthful of pastry.

“Well, we got the attorney general on the run,” one excited staff member piped enthusiastically.

“I called our press operatives to make sure they report his guilt,” press secretary Bob smiled in satisfaction.

“Is he?” Hubris asked while eyeing the basket.

“Doesn’t matter,” another staff member reported, “he’s guilty until proven innocent.”

“Technically,” Bob hesitated, “he’s completely innocent but we have the media on our side as well as many members of congress eager to play along. Our delays at cabinet membership changes have successfully kept the DOJ populated with our hirelings and they have orders to assure his guilt. We even have support from across the aisle.”

“Support?” Hubris grabbed another croissant.

“Yeah,” an older staff member cleared his throat before continuing, “They knew there was nothing and were very willing to support an investigation of nothing – but we trapped them with this new accusation and now we can hoist them on their own petard, so to speak.”

“Excellent,” Hubris beamed at his brilliant group of cohorts.

“What about research, Sally?” Hubris pointed at the only woman on his staff. “Have we got anything else?”

“We…ll,” Sally hedged by shuffling her papers, “We have a connection where his plane was on the tarmac of an airport at the same time as a passenger plane carrying two foreign ambassadors.”

“Of course!” Hubris pounded the table, “We can accuse him of a clandestine meeting.”

Sally shook her head slowly, “Not sure if we want to link planes on tarmacs with attorney generals and secret meetings. The ice may be a bit thin in that arena.”

“I know what you are inferring,” Bob remonstrated, “and our media minimized the reports on those meetings with our DOJ and besides – the constituents have already forgotten the incident.”

“What about the fact,” an exuberant member repeated himself, “the Fact, I say – that the new AG ate at a restaurant that had immigrant servers with visas originating from the country in question.”

“Huh?” Hubris joined several staff members looks of incredulity.

“Meetings with foreign waiters,” the young man continued, “cunningly made to look innocent but when we question him…”

“Ah…, Did you ever direct orders to foreign nationals during the campaign?” Hubris’ smiled like a Cheshire cat in a Disney movie.

“He’s bound to say no,” Bob leaned back in his chair and dreamily looked at the ceiling.

“Did you accept bribes from foreigners…?”

“A refill of his coffee cup,” Sally chuckled.

“Did you give money?”

“Tipped the waiter, no doubt,” Hubris amazed his staff at being the only person they knew who could sneer in delight.

“I’m really glad we can feed the media with accusations that will drown out that last speech,” Bob pursed his lips in satisfaction.

“Yeah – I was afraid we would have to live with that for over a week,” Hubris agreed.

“I also have some leaks programmed to reinstitute the race factor,” Bob’s assistant finally joined the conversation. “This idea of bringing jobs to the inner city is definitely a racist act.”

“There is a danger in allowing people to get jobs and education beyond our control,” Sally offered some analysis. “Minorities with jobs can move out of the generous havens we provide. They could even buy books and begin reading unsanctioned treatises that talk about humanity, history, and character. We really need to keep people unemployed and dependent. Think of the consequences if all our constituents uncovered the truth. We need to control the minorities and make the others feel guilty. Our power depends on it.”

The entire staff nodded in agreement, save one.

“Huh?” the original speaker remonstrated, “I can tell you as a community organizer that we OWN the inner cities.”

Bob frowned, “I wouldn’t put it quite that way,” he murmured.

“We only control the food, housing, and education,” Hubris instructed. “This administration will never get by our years of academic indoctrination and control of the media.”

“To your credit Alphonse,” Bob turned to his assistant, “we only own the social media and teachers union. We always tell the people they are free to choose among the choices we provide.”

“Well, if you want a riot, Alphonse looked chagrined, “I can get you one.”

“Thanks Alphonse,” Hubris tried to lighten the moment. “You have done an excellent job in the past and rest assured we will call upon you and your peculiar talents quite often in the near future. By the way – I had the bank funnel millions of dollars of ‘penalties’ largess into your social justice organization.”

“Is that legal?” Sally questioned.

“Of course,” Hubris quickly replied. “The funds are a penalty and we put into law a provision to allow penalties to be placed into a slush fund of ‘our’ choosing instead of returning funds to customers who were ripped off by banks and other institutions. You see, it’s not a tax and involves no tax payer monies. It’s even a legal tax deduction for those involved. No political financial constraints or ethics overhead and the only people losing money are those people who were not compensated for being ripped off. And they will never know.” Hubris chuckled before continuing, “We can fund all sorts of organizations and community events, including Alphonse’s group.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alphonse twitched his head side to side in nervous enjoyment, “the demonstrators’ wages have been rising along with the violence requirements.”

“Well it seems our people in the DOJ still have control so is there any other new business?”

The staff became quiet until Hubris directed a question to a small man seated at the far side of the table, “Harry – what about the huge history book that I am writing? Have you finished it yet? Might have to make it into two books with all that stuff I gave you, eh?”

Harry stuttered, “I wrote exactly what you told me but the fact checkers have questioned most of the content.”

“How many pages have I written so far?” Hubris pressed.

“Only ten pages are left but that includes the table of contents which looks like we may be losing another page,” Harry looked down at the table in shame.

“Fire those checkers and put back that content,” Hubris huffed. “What have you got for the back cover dialogue?”

“Its gluten free,” Harry replied, thankful he had something positive to report.

Senator Hubris and Government Grants

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Senator Hubris took his seat at the head of a long table filled with corporate businessmen, staff members, and university representatives.
“Is this room secure?” Hubris leaned towards the staff member to his right. The staff member on his left heard a quiet puff and leaned away from the senator.
“Yes senator, the room is quite secure,” the right man whispered.
“No news people?” the senator furled his eyebrows.
“No, sir,” the right man shook his head, but held up a hand, “Ah, but there is a MZN representative here.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” Hubris smiled, “As long as no FAX people are present, I think we may proceed.”
A stately man wearing a tweed jacket, raised a hand, allowing everyone to see the fine leather patch on the elbow of his university uniform.
“Yes, professor,” Hubris acknowledged the man.
“Harrumph,” the professor cleared his throat and dropped his hand, allowing a heavy ring to knock against the tabletop, “We had a concern about Global Warming that may have significant impact on our economy.”
“Please be more specific, if possible,” Hubris leaned forward, feigning interest. The staff member seated to his left coughed loudly and excused himself with a wave of his handkerchief.
“Well, just perhaps,” the professor hesitated, “What if…I mean to say; what if some degree of global warming actually does occur?”
“Oh come on now,” Hubris flapped his jowls by shaking his head. “You have seen the modifications to the hard data, have you not?”
“Well, some of my students did inspect the information,” the professor’s face turned red.
Hubris folded his hands on the table and spoke patiently, “So you know we modified the data prior to 1950 and lowered the temperatures, while, er, ah, adjusting all the later temperature data to be a bit higher, ah, for the most part. All the information now definitely displays a general rise in temperature using scientific methods. You all, who represent our supporting elite members, stand to make a fortune regulating carbon credits as well as, water, power, and food. The world is our oyster. What is your problem?”
“What if global warming actually does happen?” the learned man looked worried.
“Well, duh, professor,” Hubris snorted, “You know very well there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it and you have always known that. The issue is to bilk a fortune in regulation dollars from the idiots who think we can.”
“Now that’s uncalled for, senator,” a CEO drew attention by firmly placing his hand on the table, eliciting a loud knock from his heavy ring. “Booger got into deep trouble for calling voters stupid.”
“All right, all right,” Hubris relented. “Booger didn’t lose his job, get fined, or suspended, and he was right, of course. He never should have apologized for saying something so obviously verifiable, even without manipulating the data. But we can let that debacle pass. Say, this isn’t another shakedown is it?”
“Well, science isn’t free, you know,” a professor beamed intelligently.
“The manipulation of information is quite arduous and costly in terms of man hours and cover-up expenses,” another educator stated with authority.
“There are some grants that require federal funding, senator,” a woman spoke from the far end of the table.
“Look, you guys have glutted the budget already,” Hubris shook his head and waved his arms. “Some of this stuff is looking too obvious, even for,…ah…ordinary voters. I’m not supporting another rabbit massage study.”
A burly man, seated next to the woman, raised his arm, “There is a specific pedophile study we thought interesting.”
“Oh, no,” the senator remonstrated, “Not another trip to the Middle East.”
Several seated people piped suggestions at the senator.
“Same sex mating habits of Yeti?
“No,” Hubris hung his head.
“Groundhog suicides?”
“Already been done,” Hubris sighed.
“Animal husbands?”
Hubris shook his head at the woman.
“Funeral service bias towards the living and its impact on the deceased?”
“Not a chance,” Hubris shook a finger at the originator, “I remember you, Smith, and don’t even try to bring up necrophilia again.” The man slumped in his chair.
A previously quiet man rapped his ring on the table for attention, “May I suggest a study concerning the habitat loss of deer ticks caused by hunting?”
“Hmm,” Hubris looked about to relent.
“The poor ticks are losing ground,” the man reported. “No pun intended.”
“What pun?” the right man whispered.
“Green peace will support that study, if a grant is supplied.” A well dressed man nodded approval.
“So will PETA,” another man stated. “Poor ticks are needlessly starving every year.”
“And they have no representation, like the spotted owl or desert tortoise,” an adamant voice pleaded with sincere emotion.
“Or smelt,” another representative added to the cacophony.
“Save the Homes of Indigent Ticks,” is a study definitely worthy of a federal grant,” a professor chanted.
The room resounded with the knocking of rings on the long conference table. Their support of the S.H.I.T. study was unanimous.

Senator Hubris Devises New Taxes

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The large man seated at the head of the conference table brushed off the pile of crumbs that had accumulated on his stomach, “I gathered you all here to discuss new innovative taxes to shore up our administration. As you all know, we need money. The wealthy people are leaving the country and investing elsewhere. We can only double their taxes and that is not enough.”
“Senator,” piped a young staffer, “We all know the very wealthy couldn’t support our spending for a couple weeks if we took everything they owned. Doesn’t matter if they leave.”
“Maybe we should close the borders to keep them in,” suggested Brian, the deputy chief of staff for Senator Hubris.
“Won’t work,” Hubris huffed, “Damn Republicans would use the border closure to cover the other direction and that would ruin a large future voting block.”
“We need to keep dividing the citizens into groups that are manageable,” agreed another staffer.
“Cigarette taxes are booming a black market but no one would notice if we added another forty cents per gallon for gasoline.”
“Great idea,” Hubris reached for another tax payer funded doughnut, “Gas prices are down now and we could always blame the oil companies for the upcoming higher prices.”
“Why not tax fetuses as additional carbon generators?” asked Eleanor, the senior legislative assistant.
“Carbon tax on babies?”
“China would go along with that one,” Brian admired the woman’s initiative.
“Now, that is a good start,” Hubris talked around the doughnut in his mouth. “Let’s hear more.”
“We could tax white people,” offered a young man looking sheepishly at the gathering.
“Who are you?” Hubris demanded.
“Sven, I’m the case worker you hired last year,” the man nervously reached for the water pitcher on the table.
“Oh, yes,” Hubris acknowledged. “Tax white people for what, may I ask?”
“Uh,” Sven hesitated, “For being white. They already feel guilty for all the wrong doing they have done, are doing, and will continue to do in the future. They deserve being taxed.”
“Good idea, Sven, but there are too many of them,” Hubris shook his jowls. “They could catch on and vote against us in the future. We need to divide them into smaller groups that can blame each other for the condition of our nation. Like veterans, but don’t tax them anymore as they are becoming a hot potato, so to speak.”
“Citizens are already donating for the promised services we refuse to provide,” Brian added. “We came out ahead on that one.”
“What about a cow tax?” Eleanor sat back in her chair. “Not the meat, but a tax on each bovine would help offset methane emissions as farmers dump their livestock.”
“Great idea,” Hubris became jubilant. “A bona-fide twofer. Now that’s a good example of a minority that has little effect on the popular vote, Sven. Farmers can be taxed because we can threaten to reduce their subsidies. Also, there aren’t that many of them to make a difference.”
“Taxi cab drivers?” offered another staffer.
“The cities already tax the hell out of them but we can look into adding another federal tax on all commercial vehicles,” Brian expanded the tax base of his compatriots idea.
“Think of minority groups that should feel guilty and can’t successfully fight being taxed. Smokers are a superb example,” Hubris explained thoughtfully.
A myriad of suggestions flew around the table:
“Doctors.”
“Fishermen.”
“Gun owners.”
“Real Estate brokers.”
“Plumbers.”
“Lawyers.”
“Huh, Lawyers?” Hubris’ brows furled. “Are you crazy? Lawyers will write the new tax laws. We need them to make our edicts undecipherable to all the commoners. Can’t tax them; besides there are too many of them.”
“Without lawyers we would be forced to abide by the constitution, Sven,” Brian was good at augmenting and explaining concepts. “We need them to be on our side.”
“We could try spending less,” Tom, the mail manager, offered.
Hubris pointed a fat finger at Tom, “You’re fired.”

Senator Hubris Meets the Aliens

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“They are gathered inside the room behind the vault door, Senator Hubris,” the marine sergeant pointed to a metal door further down the corridor.
“Harrumph,” Hubris replied without looking at the marine, “Hope they have coffee and pastries. Ten o’clock is too damn early to start a meeting.”
The marine rushed past the waddling senator to open the heavy door. The senator tucked his shirt into his pants and humped his shoulders to straighten up his appearance while waiting for the thick metal door to be opened. He stepped past the opening, where the corridor continued into a large rectangular room containing a long table hosting several strange looking beings.
“Sss, blascktigcap,” a creature rose from his seat extending four arms, in what seemed to be a friendly manner.
“Is this a joke?” Hubris snorted.
“This is not humor, Senator,” the being with four arms spoke halting English. Each word ended with a strange click. “We are representatives of several planetary species, belong to the United Galaxy Homeworlds, UGH. Your president assigned you to confer with us over certain needs that are required from earthlings.”
An alien with a nose resembling an elephant’s trunk made sounds resembling laughter.
“I shall be your translator,” Four arms pointed to a plush chair at one end of the table. “You may call me Four,” the creature tried mimicking a human smile but the fangs perturbed the senator.
Hubris walked slowly to the chair, noting the various creatures seated on both sides of the table. The center of the long conference table had three pitchers of water strategically placed next to cloth covered baskets.
“Hmm,” Hubris drooled, “You do have pastries.” A toad hopped from the basket unto the table when he reached under the cloth.
“What the…” Hubris farted in surprise.
A reptilian looking ‘thing’ grabbed the toad with a four fingered claw and ate it before Hubris could sit.
The ‘elephant nose’ made laughing sounds again.
Hubris sat, “What’s this about? Let’s get down to business. Are you here to make donations to my campaign?”
A varied cacophony of whistles, grunts, and trumpeting sounded from all the UGH representatives.
“Yes, of course we are honored to donate to your campaign,” Four replied, handing Hubris a check inscribed in his name for one billion dollars. The check was drawn from the Intergalactic Bank. “But we need your assistance to avoid a possible war that could engulf the entire galaxy.”
“Is this check any good?” Hubris waved the paper in front of him, (for a good reason).
The green alien appeared to become a little greener.
“Of course the check is good,” Four sat with all his arms on the table. “We have been banking through the Federal Reserve for over fifty years now.”
“You have?” Hubris looked incredulous.
“Why do you think the Fed has never been audited?” Four gave Hubris a blank look. He repeated the senator’s question in some alien tongue.
Several creatures nodded, one thumped a tail, and the elephant curled his nose.
“But to the point, Senator Hubris,” Four continued, “We, well almost all beings living in this galaxy, appreciate earth’s efforts in keeping galactic peace for over a thousand years. Unfortunately, there are those among us who do not believe the capacity of the human endeavor towards war. It has been so long since we have had to use humans, you see. We have asked you to be here, as a convincing voice, to further the cause of peace and avoid the catastrophic mutual total destruction that will occur if humans are employed in hostile enterprises. As such we hope that earth, may again, save the universe by threatening recalcitrant planets with our employment of earthlings in a peace-keeping capacity.”
“Humans keep galactic peace?” Hubris’s jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide as he looked at the various ‘representatives’ around the table.
“Oh, yes,” Four responded, “We supply the technology and employ humans for the dirty work.”
“For the last thousand years?” Hubris’s lisped and spittle dripped on the table.
“Of course, we also furnish training,” Four sounded bored, “Slings at first, then bows and guns, but now video games support the machines we use.”
“We excel at video games,” Hubris was surprised by the pictures and videos that suddenly appeared on all the walls, floors, and ceiling. A myriad of video game videos demonstrated the prowess of human play.”
“That’s better, Hubris,” Four commented. “Your dialogue will be instantly supported by an electronic search for information supporting your statements. The results will be displayed, as you can see.”
“You mean it’s like Google?” Hubris craned his head to see all the videos.
A roar of upset aliens disturbed him. They appeared to be very angry.
“Ah, don’t use that sound, Senator,” Four explained, “The harmonics resemble a curse in several languages. Just tell us all about the ‘human’ condition and predilection towards war.”
“Hmm,” Hubris thought quickly, perhaps the lectures he gave his constituents might serve. “Humans have been known to murder fellow humans, but that is the fault of guns…”
A very loud buzzer filled the room with a painful sound.
“Sorry, Hubris,” Four instructed. “The buzzer will blast upon any untruth. We must, for the sake of galactic welfare, be honest in our dissertations.”
“Well, global warming…” Hubris began.
“BUZZ!”
“Tea party insurgents…”
“BUZZ!”
“Oh, come on, Four,” Hubris complained. “I have been teaching my voters this material for years.” Hubris jerked his head back and forth, expecting the buzzer to erupt in sound.
It remained quiet. Videos of Hubris displayed his campaign lectures.
“Actually, most violent deaths are accomplished with blunt objects,” the Senator began to enjoy his role as peacekeeper. He waited. Silence. Alien eyes and sensors focused upon the politician.
“Yeah,” Hubris smiled, “we like to get down and dirty. A baseball bat or piece of iron does the trick. Silence.
“We pay men and women to live their adult lives in military organizations, where they train to kill people who may threaten us.”
Hubris felt the impact of the intense stares he received from the table occupants.
“Many of my opponents constituents are racists and…”
“BUZZ!”
“Well, my voters believe they are,” Hubris amended, “I informed them.”
“Those others hate clean air…”
“BUZZ!”
“Clean water…”
“BUZZ!”
“I divide folks by showing how they have been victimized by other folks who may be different, have more material things, get better education and health care, nicer homes and good jobs. My folks will vote for me because it’s easy to get them to blame others for their condition. My people hate those other people. Just think about how much they would like to get their hands on your stuff and take it away. You guys are very different.”
“You mean racial hatred inspires humans to kill?” Four asked.
“Oh, you betcha,” Hubris beamed in his chair. “Especially black against white, or white against anything.
A murmuring began to grow amongst the seated aliens. It appeared to get more robust as different entities pounded the table, giving Four blatant looks of disapproval.
“What’s wrong?” Hubris asked.
“They think the buzzer is broke,” Four looked desperate. “They don’t believe any race could be that stupid. It is beyond comprehension. They will disband this effort unless I can prove the buzzer is still working.”
“But this is what we have done to manipulate the masses,” Hubris explained. “We don’t think of ourselves as humans because our politics and schools indoctrinate us to be racially divided. We kill each other over these differences and we kill others just because they think differently. We even tortured and killed the person who initiated one of our most honored religions that teaches peace and love.”
The aliens around the table were obviously becoming infuriated.
“We elect politicians who are honest and …”
“BUZZ!”
“Harrumph,” The senator cleared his throat, “At least my boyfriend knows my ethics are above…”
“BUZZ!”
Several aliens gave the senator a quizzical look but the room began to quiet. Most of the representatives returned to their seats.
“We give honor to our warriors,” Hubris announced. “We especially honor our dead warriors. When we go to other countries and kill people, we leave rows and rows of monuments to our fallen. Mothers walk among these rows looking for the names of their dead progeny.”
“We care for our warriors who are wounded…”
“BUZZ!”
“Ok, ok, we don’t give a shit for the wounded but we try to keep it quiet and minimize the expense of providing for them,” Hubris backtracked.
“But we do give medals to the dead!” Hubris tried to get a reprieve. “And we teach our men that violence is manly. We show war videos to our children. Wow, I remember some of these older movies. Hey, there’s John Wayne,” Hubris began to enjoy the displays. “That one looks new and interesting – don’t think I’ve seen that one yet. Hey Four, can you get me a copy?”
“It hasn’t been released yet,” Four shook his head. “We get everything. We even have a copy of your laptop but porn isn’t the issue so get back on the subject, please.”
“You can’t get a copy of my…” Hubris began.
“We have also assisted your, uh, NSA or B, whatever – we can get any information we want,” Four calmly replied, (with a click at the end of his sentence).
“Seems pretty obvious that we humans are a war oriented race of fighters who are rewarded in our society for killing whatever opposes us or, in many cases, whoever we are hired to kill. When we aren’t killing other people, we kill animals to eat. Millions of animals are slaughtered every year just to make sandwiches. We raise them so we can kill them.”
Hubris noted Four’s nod of approval.
“And if you think our army is too small, we are prepared to field hundreds of thousands of well armed ‘civilians’ if your alien recalcitrant has a good flavor…” Hubris waited for a buzzer to go off but the room remained quite silent. “Every year we have a hunting festival that puts over half a million armed citizens into our forests looking for critters to shoot and eat. Half a million hunters in my state alone. There are fifty states in our union. Do you have a sample of your problem alien that we can roast, fry, or barbeque?”
Vivid videos and pictures displayed during this period of Hubris’ recitation seemed to upset several of the alien participants. One spewed some foul smelling lumpy liquid on the table. Another ejected something that formed a puddle under his chair. The lizard looking individual took a keen interest in the videos, however, frequently licking his prognathic mouth with a wiry tongue.
“The hunters are our most peaceful armed citizens,” The senator hit his stride, “Do you want descriptions of our pillaging and raping capabilities? We do other things besides killing and eating.”
“No, Senator Hubris,” Four put his hand over the senator’s mouth. The images on the displays continued, to the dismay and discomfort of those seated at the table. “I think your dissertation has adequately described the impact of releasing humans upon an aggressive population of war mongering life forms. Of course, you know this meeting never occurred and the knowledge of other extant intelligent life is highly classified. Or would you prefer to have your mind wiped?”
“No, no,” Hubris waved his hands, “I don’t think that will be necessary. I should be going now as I have much work to perform. You know, I perform many services for my people…”
“BUZZ!”

Written by poyhonen

October 23, 2014 at 4:45 am

Senator Hubris’ Proposal for Mass Taxation

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Senator Hubris sat at the extreme end of a rectangular table. Seven other important participants attended this classified meeting. One member sat opposite the senator in a large padded leather chair, the others sat three to each side of the table. The names of the attendees are redacted for security purposes.
“I have come to address a very important issue concerning the safety of our world,” Hubris looked at the participants with a serious visage.
“Can’t be anything new, senator,” the head seat responded with a wave of his hand. “If it was some new threat, I would have seen it on Fox news.”
A murmuring grew from the other seats:
“They always tattle the bad news.”
“Damn Fox.”
“Aren’t they the ones who always lie?”
“That’s what we tell the voters, but I record them so I can watch late at night when I am alone.”
“If I wanted to see a regurgitation of my own talking points, I would watch MSNBC.”
“Good thing Beck is gone.”
“Harrumph,” Hubris twisted in his hard wood chair. “Gentlemen, this is serious,” Hubris shouted. “I beg you to listen.”
“All right senator,” the man at the head of the table thrummed his fingers. “Please continue.”
“Thank you,” the Senator leaned back in his chair. “Scientists have discovered that the earth is wobbling upon its’ axis.”
“Uh, they discovered that in Newton’s time, Hubris,” one man shook his head slowly and poured some water into a glass.
“Ah, yes.” Hubris exclaimed. “But the tsunami in Japan and other earthquakes have demonstrated that the mass changes in the northern hemisphere directly impact the amount of wobble. As America grows we develop more massive structures, skyscrapers, homes, roads, and billions of tons of garbage. All this construction and debris amounts to more mass. We also import heavy items from abroad and distribute them within our country. All this collection of mass exacerbates an imbalance in the earth and accentuates the already existing wobble.”
“I think he has been watching CNN,” the comment brought some quiet laughter from the senator’s audience.
“But you are all missing the key point that this knowledge brings to the table,” Hubris push his chair back and wobbled to his feet.
“This precession has been reported to have caused the last two ice ages,” Hubris continued with a wagging finger.
“I didn’t read any such report,” a listener voiced concern.
“You don’t read anything until after it’s passed, madam.” a sardonic voice whispered.
“Hey, lay off her,” another participant scolded, “She can take credit for one of the biggest dupes in political history. She’s a credit to my insurance, and, er, campaign contributions.”
“I thought Al Gore pulled the biggest…”
“Hey, don’t sell your carbon credits before the smoke settles – she helped get us one sixth of the economy to distribute.”
“Sour grapes, my man,” a attendee smiled, “I told you to sell Solyndra.”
“We must stop this arguing amongst ourselves,” Hubris sputtered, “Can’t you see that we can tax construction?”
“Wha, huh,” the man at the head of the table awakened, instantly stimulated by the word ‘tax’.
“What’s this,” he demanded, “We can tax? What, who, and for how much?”
“All those wealthy people that own homes, businesses, and large buildings can be taxed based upon the weight of the buildings they own,” Hubris beamed a smile and returned to his seat.
“Oh, that is a lot of tax,” someone mumbled.
“We can make it retroactive,” Hubris enjoined, “establish a new department of mass, and we can even tax garbage.”
“I’m not sure about this,” a lady hung her head.
“You’ll get a waiver,” the lead chair offered.
“I’m for it!” she smiled.
“It may be a hard sell,” Hubris tried to control his enthusiasm, “but it will save the planet in the long run.”
“That’s easy,” the man seated at the head of the table exuded confidence. “If you like your building, you can keep your building.”
“You’ll have access to Trump’s fortune,” a heretofore quiet member now had an opinion. “We can weigh his garbage and tax his construction for our economic weight distribution agenda.”
“How long is this, er, long run you mention?” a member asked a key question and the room grew quiet.
Hubris puffed out his chest and spoke from a rehearsed talking point, “Well, I was told the precession period was between 19,000 and 24,000 years but that’s not important because when we change the mass of the earth, all the past data goes out the window. Damn axis shift ended an ice age only 12,000 years ago, but the total effect is very gradual so if we tax the mass structures now we can avoid the impact upon the earth’s axis shift in the following years.”
“Years, shit,” one member argued. “You mean centuries, Hubris.”
“No problem,” the head of the table seemed agreeable, “we can keep that info to ourselves until we have computer models made to support our view.”
“I have already awarded grants for studies to be performed by several universities,” Hubris proudly put both palms on the table.
“Uh, oh,” offered a thin man with grey hair, “what if they make their study results public?”
“Oh, I learned from the masters of global warming,” Hubris nodded. “The studies I awarded were all for proving that the mass of the northern hemisphere changes the earth’s axis in a relatively short time. Nothing like a panic to get people moving.”
“Brilliant!”
“I think I’ll fund some of those studies too,” offered an attentive member.
“Offer a large enough grant and you could get Santa Claus proof of life from most universities. Some reporters will even offer pictures.”
“Hey, Santa voted for me last election.”
“Me too, and I’m in a different state.”
“He voted twice for me and all his elves voted too.”
“Some of those elves are dead, I think.”
“Voters may die but their votes live forever.”
“Wait a minute. Is this meeting being recorded, other than that stenographer?”
“Definitely not,” Hubris injected himself into the ongoing table talk. “And to keep it private; I signed in to participate in a meeting on the further regulation of Girl Scout cookies. My record is clear. This assembly never happened.”
“I’m here for a meeting to regulate private tree and grass cutting.”
“I’ve got some staffers writing regulations to limit the number of toilet flushes per household.”
“Not sure I like that one…”
“We’ve got waivers for us.”
“I’m for it!”
“I’m here to attend a conference limiting gun ownership to muskets only…”
“Loser.” the lead chair shook his head.
“I brought the young congressman with me to review global warming initiatives that will regulate individual consumption of broccoli, cabbage, and other foods that may cause Global Warming flatulence.”
“But I like hard boiled eggs and beer…”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got waivers.”
“Count me in!”
The man seated at the head of the table addressed the young politician, “You have been fairly quiet. What do you think about taxing the weight of buildings, stockpiles of materials, and the mass effects concerning Global Wobble?”
“Well, actually,” a younger attendee spoke for the first time, “the amount of mass does change the precession of the earth’s axis and the our orbit affects the melting of the northern ice, which in turn, changes the ocean currents and we are talking about hundreds of gigatonnes of additional water. In fact, we are due for another ice age in only 30,000 years.”
“Where the hell did you learn that?” the grey haired man became belligerent.
“My wife’s father is an astrophysicist,” the young man replied.
“Must be a damn republican,” grey hair retorted.
“Uh, yeah,” the younger man hung his head and looked down at the table. “He is,” the man admitted. “Sorry.”
“I think we can hire thousands of people to support the IRS in getting the tax weight of all those homes and buildings,” grey hair ignored the young man and addressed the group.
“Hey, a positive answer to unemployment,” added a woman.
“And the taxes can pay for them,” another member rejoined.
“I think taller buildings should be taxed more,” offered the man sitting in the head chair.
“I agree,” several voices chimed in at the same time.
“People may start living underground,” one thinker spoke his thought out loud. “How do we tax them?”
“I say, let them live underground,” grey hair offered.
“It would make for a nicer view from the golf courses,” offered the head chair.
“Yeah, give tax credits for demolition of above ground buildings!”
“Great idea!” the table members grew excited.
“Talk about a level playing field…”
“Living underground uses less energy.”
“A definite twofer,” exclaimed the head chair. “And an end to terrorist bombings of tall buildings. We can redistribute the tax income to our voters and lock in our elections.”
“Gosh, he’s a real problem solver, this man,” the woman speaking almost swooned in delight.
“All right, Hubris,” the head chair continued, “we have a consensus and you will lead the roll out for this new initiative.”
“I’m not sure I’m the right one for this task,” Hubris looked worried.
“You surely don’t expect any of us to get involved with another rollout, do you?”
“But some of the people will complain about the government forcing them to relinquish their homes and live underground,” Hubris complained.
“And all those people living above ground can be labeled as looking down on the decent folk who love the earth and live in it.”
“Besides, it will be their choice to stay in their homes and be taxed or move underground and live like the rest of the country. Of course, they can keep their homes if they want.”
“Uh, hey wait a minute…”
“We’ll get a waiver for ourselves, don’t worry,” the head chair announced.
“I’m in!”
“What about floods?” the young man continued looking at the table but they could all hear his sentiment anyway.
“Who will know?” the grey haired man smiled a knowing smile.
“Voters won’t care anyway,” added another, “They had over thirty years warning about floods in New Orleans and no one offered to build a dike. Voters will elect anyone who offers them a free ride.”
“True, we still get their votes.”
“Of course we can issue federal pumps, should some flooding take place.”
“Nah, just blame Bush for any floods,” the speaker raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.
“It has worked before.”
“It always works.”
The table laughed in unison.

Written by poyhonen

October 23, 2014 at 4:38 am

Senator Hubris’ Proposal for Mass Taxation

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Senator Hubris sat at the extreme end of a rectangular table. Seven other important participants attended this classified meeting. One member sat opposite the senator in a large padded leather chair, the others sat three to each side of the table. The names of the attendees are redacted for security purposes.
“I have come to address a very important issue concerning the safety of our world,” Hubris looked at the participants with a serious visage.
“Can’t be anything new, senator,” the head seat responded with a wave of his hand. “If it was some new threat, I would have seen it on Fox news.”
A murmuring grew from the other seats:
“They always tattle the bad news.”
“Damn Fox.”
“Aren’t they the ones who always lie?”
“That’s what we tell the voters, but I record them so I can watch late at night when I am alone.”
“If I wanted to see a regurgitation of my own talking points, I would watch MSNBC.”
“Good thing Beck is gone.”
“Harrumph,” Hubris twisted in his hard wood chair. “Gentlemen, this is serious,” Hubris shouted. “I beg you to listen.”
“All right senator,” the man at the head of the table thrummed his fingers. “Please continue.”
“Thank you,” the Senator leaned back in his chair. “Scientists have discovered that the earth is wobbling upon its’ axis.”
“Uh, they discovered that in Newton’s time, Hubris,” one man shook his head slowly and poured some water into a glass.
“Ah, yes.” Hubris exclaimed. “But the tsunami in Japan and other earthquakes have demonstrated that the mass changes in the northern hemisphere directly impact the amount of wobble. As America grows we develop more massive structures, skyscrapers, homes, roads, and billions of tons of garbage. All this construction and debris amounts to more mass. We also import heavy items from abroad and distribute them within our country. All this collection of mass exacerbates an imbalance in the earth and accentuates the already existing wobble.”
“I think he has been watching CNN,” the comment brought some quiet laughter from the senator’s audience.
“But you are all missing the key point that this knowledge brings to the table,” Hubris push his chair back and wobbled to his feet.
“This precession has been reported to have caused the last two ice ages,” Hubris continued with a wagging finger.
“I didn’t read any such report,” a listener voiced concern.
“You don’t read anything until after it’s passed, madam.” a sardonic voice whispered.
“Hey, lay off her,” another participant scolded, “She can take credit for one of the biggest dupes in political history. She’s a credit to my insurance, and, er, campaign contributions.”
“I thought Al Gore pulled the biggest…”
“Hey, don’t sell your carbon credits before the smoke settles – she helped get us one sixth of the economy to distribute.”
“Sour grapes, my man,” a attendee smiled, “I told you to sell Solyndra.”
“We must stop this arguing amongst ourselves,” Hubris sputtered, “Can’t you see that we can tax construction?”
“Wha, huh,” the man at the head of the table awakened, instantly stimulated by the word ‘tax’.
“What’s this,” he demanded, “We can tax? What, who, and for how much?”
“All those wealthy people that own homes, businesses, and large buildings can be taxed based upon the weight of the buildings they own,” Hubris beamed a smile and returned to his seat.
“Oh, that is a lot of tax,” someone mumbled.
“We can make it retroactive,” Hubris enjoined, “establish a new department of mass, and we can even tax garbage.”
“I’m not sure about this,” a lady hung her head.
“You’ll get a waiver,” the lead chair offered.
“I’m for it!” she smiled.
“It may be a hard sell,” Hubris tried to control his enthusiasm, “but it will save the planet in the long run.”
“That’s easy,” the man seated at the head of the table exuded confidence. “If you like your building, you can keep your building.”
“You’ll have access to Trump’s fortune,” a heretofore quiet member now had an opinion. “We can weigh his garbage and tax his construction for our economic weight distribution agenda.”
“How long is this, er, long run you mention?” a member asked a key question and the room grew quiet.
Hubris puffed out his chest and spoke from a rehearsed talking point, “Well, I was told the precession period was between 19,000 and 24,000 years but that’s not important because when we change the mass of the earth, all the past data goes out the window. Damn axis shift ended an ice age only 12,000 years ago, but the total effect is very gradual so if we tax the mass structures now we can avoid the impact upon the earth’s axis shift in the following years.”
“Years, shit,” one member argued. “You mean centuries, Hubris.”
“No problem,” the head of the table seemed agreeable, “we can keep that info to ourselves until we have computer models made to support our view.”
“I have already awarded grants for studies to be performed by several universities,” Hubris proudly put both palms on the table.
“Uh, oh,” offered a thin man with grey hair, “what if they make their study results public?”
“Oh, I learned from the masters of global warming,” Hubris nodded. “The studies I awarded were all for proving that the mass of the northern hemisphere changes the earth’s axis in a relatively short time. Nothing like a panic to get people moving.”
“Brilliant!”
“I think I’ll fund some of those studies too,” offered an attentive member.
“Offer a large enough grant and you could get Santa Claus proof of life from most universities. Some reporters will even offer pictures.”
“Hey, Santa voted for me last election.”
“Me too, and I’m in a different state.”
“He voted twice for me and all his elves voted too.”
“Some of those elves are dead, I think.”
“Voters may die but their votes live forever.”
“Wait a minute. Is this meeting being recorded, other than that stenographer?”
“Definitely not,” Hubris injected himself into the ongoing table talk. “And to keep it private; I signed in to participate in a meeting on the further regulation of Girl Scout cookies. My record is clear. This assembly never happened.”
“I’m here for a meeting to regulate private tree and grass cutting.”
“I’ve got some staffers writing regulations to limit the number of toilet flushes per household.”
“Not sure I like that one…”
“We’ve got waivers for us.”
“I’m for it!”
“I’m here to attend a conference limiting gun ownership to muskets only…”
“Loser.” the lead chair shook his head.
“I brought the young congressman with me to review global warming initiatives that will regulate individual consumption of broccoli, cabbage, and other foods that may cause Global Warming flatulence.”
“But I like hard boiled eggs and beer…”
“Don’t worry, we’ve got waivers.”
“Count me in!”
The man seated at the head of the table addressed the young politician, “You have been fairly quiet. What do you think about taxing the weight of buildings, stockpiles of materials, and the mass effects concerning Global Wobble?”
“Well, actually,” a younger attendee spoke for the first time, “the amount of mass does change the precession of the earth’s axis and the our orbit affects the melting of the northern ice, which in turn, changes the ocean currents and we are talking about hundreds of gigatonnes of additional water. In fact, we are due for another ice age in only 30,000 years.”
“Where the hell did you learn that?” the grey haired man became belligerent.
“My wife’s father is an astrophysicist,” the young man replied.
“Must be a damn republican,” grey hair retorted.
“Uh, yeah,” the younger man hung his head and looked down at the table. “He is,” the man admitted. “Sorry.”
“I think we can hire thousands of people to support the IRS in getting the tax weight of all those homes and buildings,” grey hair ignored the young man and addressed the group.
“Hey, a positive answer to unemployment,” added a woman.
“And the taxes can pay for them,” another member rejoined.
“I think taller buildings should be taxed more,” offered the man sitting in the head chair.
“I agree,” several voices chimed in at the same time.
“People may start living underground,” one thinker spoke his thought out loud. “How do we tax them?”
“I say, let them live underground,” grey hair offered.
“It would make for a nicer view from the golf courses,” offered the head chair.
“Yeah, give tax credits for demolition of above ground buildings!”
“Great idea!” the table members grew excited.
“Talk about a level playing field…”
“Living underground uses less energy.”
“A definite twofer,” exclaimed the head chair. “And an end to terrorist bombings of tall buildings. We can redistribute the tax income to our voters and lock in our elections.”
“Gosh, he’s a real problem solver, this man,” the woman speaking almost swooned in delight.
“All right, Hubris,” the head chair continued, “we have a consensus and you will lead the roll out for this new initiative.”
“I’m not sure I’m the right one for this task,” Hubris looked worried.
“You surely don’t expect any of us to get involved with another rollout, do you?”
“But some of the people will complain about the government forcing them to relinquish their homes and live underground,” Hubris complained.
“And all those people living above ground can be labeled as looking down on the decent folk who love the earth and live in it.”
“Besides, it will be their choice to stay in their homes and be taxed or move underground and live like the rest of the country. Of course, they can keep their homes if they want.”
“Uh, hey wait a minute…”
“We’ll get a waiver for ourselves, don’t worry,” the head chair announced.
“I’m in!”
“What about floods?” the young man continued looking at the table but they could all hear his sentiment anyway.
“Who will know?” the grey haired man smiled a knowing smile.
“Voters won’t care anyway,” added another, “They had over thirty years warning about floods in New Orleans and no one offered to build a dike. Voters will elect anyone who offers them a free ride.”
“True, we still get their votes.”
“Of course we can issue federal pumps, should some flooding take place.”
“Nah, just blame Bush for any floods,” the speaker raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.
“It has worked before.”
“It always works.”
The table laughed in unison.