Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement
Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas. In Vegas they form an alliance with Jefe, the Southwest Czar, to take a short cut to the Emerald City. The trip lands them in Vancouver, Washington, slightly South of the destination. Driving North, they are greeted at the edge of Seattle with a large explosion. Saving the life of Czar d'Oz, they were given the keys to the kingdom, which they turned to their advantage.
[2121. Pike Place Market, in Seattle. A round table across the street from the original Starbucks, which forms the background. Summer. A player on ukelele is off to stage left.]
"America's my girl..."
Martin: Can't complain.
Zeda: Things just couldn't be better.
Julius: I've got something to go on about it, but let's hear from you all first. Peter: how is the election forecast? I heard our Vortex might lose some clout.
Peter: Oh, the usual. Only the candidate with the name 'Obama' seems to have any national credibility. The alternative parties seem to be a bunch of morons, overt criminals, or knuckle-dragging historical throwbacks, as always. The irony is that, for all the Obamas and the Czarocracy have held power all this time, those opposing ne'er-do-wells still manage to foil the best-planned lays of mighty mice and socialist men.
The Obama strategy seems to be (a) Fear the Army of Strawmen, and (b) re-conquer them every election. We've got a few new ploys to make the Flyover Czar and the Northeast Czar look more stupid than usual. And we just broke up another plot to infiltrate the social networking system, like those two Czars did last mid-term.
Julius: Yeah, but the legerdemain is so much more tolerable if you just join the Vortex and participate therein, as we've discovered, haven't we?
Martin: Yep. [Flexing limbs.] Got an iron fist on the supply chain. Staying in spare parts is a breeze. It's tedious, though. I keep having to explain 'fair' for the new meat. After a while, they figure out 'fair' is whatever works for me. They quit asking. Then they start working to arrange stuff. They figure out 'fair' can support them, too. Just as long as it supports me in the end. The chain of command is a beautiful thing. Once everyone is onboard. Eternals are Eternals, Brutals are Brutals. You try to leave the routes open for them to move up. Like we did. But mostly the Brutals are content.
Julius: Sweet, sweet patronage. It's what made Rome great, and it's the glue holding America together. Zeda: how is the acting career going?
Zeda: I'm enjoying it. Getting the scripts past the censors is tough sometimes--
Peter: Sorry to hear that. Are any of them getting too uppity? I can have them re-assigned to voter registration or some other task that will have them dealing with Brutals. That usually helps them be less full of themselves.
Of course, you do understand the need to keep the Brutals pacified, don't you? It's a delicate balance, making sure we hold what we've got. The less clever must be trained to buy into the various "justice" and "rights" myths that we perpetuate, while that entitlement choke-chain stays just loose enough.
Zeda: Yeah, sometimes I want to just do a classic work, like an Oedipus Rex or a Waiting for Godot without having it turned into a variation on the theme of "Beelze-Bush the Anti-Obama", or "opposing the Obamas is racism", or "America the guilty-ful".
Peter: Is there still room for artistic expression while remaining loyal to the group of 17 Eternal Czars?
Zeda: Oh, sure. Let's not look the gift whores in the mouths. Things could be so much worse. I'm just wondering if things couldn't be better if the outcome of all the novels and movies wasn't always predictable.
"...but she has lost her way..."
Julius: An interesting thought. What I wanted to tell you guys about is a cache of history books I found at a dacha in the Cascades. No more detail than that, lest there be repreisals against the original owner. Which should clue you that I'm only telling you this in the strictest confidence--we could lose everything if word gets out.
The thing is that American history is like a parabola. Freedom increased from the Revolutionary War to the Federal Reserve Act. By then, the US government had diminshed the power of the 50 States via income tax and direct election of Senators. Once they had their own bankers, the American aristocracy could germinate. It rose like bread on a yeast of debt and globalization.
The Tea Party movement of the first Obama administration was the last gasp of the original, independent American spirit. However, the neo-aristocrats had such a grip on the media that no amount of exposed scandal could shake their grip.
The Tea Party movement of the first Obama administration was the last gasp of the original, independent American spirit. However, the neo-aristocrats had such a grip on the media that no amount of exposed scandal could shake their grip.
Too, the knowledge that the amount of debt was so staggering, the pain of facing the decades of systematic larceny, made the glib words and cheap assignments of blame very easy to accept.
Like Israelites in a desert of debt without a Moses, it was easy for the American people to reject freedom, to scuttle the rigors of preparing for a promised land, and to return to the predictable comfort and occasional whip of their overlord of old.
Like Israelites in a desert of debt without a Moses, it was easy for the American people to reject freedom, to scuttle the rigors of preparing for a promised land, and to return to the predictable comfort and occasional whip of their overlord of old.
So that parabola of freedom peaked about 100 years ago. We came here from Topeka those years ago to try to escape this modern American debt slavery. The cache of books I found has writings from as late as 20 years ago discussing the efforts around the country to build a network of people dedicated to the spirit of the Founding Fathers, not the neo-aristocratic people who followed them. Are you interested in taking on some risk? Some adventure? Some action to resurrect the ideals upon which this country was founded, not this horrible, decadent Vortex of progressivism?
Peter: I've always felt that change must occur within the system through evolution, not revolution.
Martin: My oath is to support and defend the Constitution. That has been amended to include all of the writings and speeches of Barack Hussein Obama. Maybe you can show that the whole thing isn't working. But I doubt it.
Zeda: Look. I've made it big. I don't feel that guilty about it. And if I do feel guilty, I do an ad supporting the Obamas.
Julius: It was an idea. As adventurous as our road trip in TOTO those years ago. Forget I said anything. Are we allowed to ask how things worked out between you and Barry Cuda?
Zeda: No, but obviously you want more than that. Let's say that he was a slow thinker, in terms of that old lyric by that forgotten local band Heart: "If the real thing don't do the trick / You better think of something quick." Politicians: can't live *with* them, and the more kinetic alternatives will land you in jail.
"...so hear me now lament."
[The ukelele player at stage left picks up a lilting, sad little waltz tune and croons:]
America's my girl,
but she has lost her way,
so hear me now lament.
She only wants to play,
to primp and toss and twirl,
though all the cash is spent.
For all the wise would say,
"You've got to pay the rent,
before the hair you curl,"
To slavery she's bent,
on sugar daddy day,
though he be a squirrel.
That foolish element,
the pig's snout with a pearl,
still prattles on so gay.
What if she gave a whirl,
and tried to leave a dent,
by offering a NAY?
Let freedom's flag unfurl,
facing fascist flambé,
becoming confident.
but she has lost her way,
so hear me now lament.
She only wants to play,
to primp and toss and twirl,
though all the cash is spent.
For all the wise would say,
"You've got to pay the rent,
before the hair you curl,"
To slavery she's bent,
on sugar daddy day,
though he be a squirrel.
That foolish element,
the pig's snout with a pearl,
still prattles on so gay.
What if she gave a whirl,
and tried to leave a dent,
by offering a NAY?
Let freedom's flag unfurl,
facing fascist flambé,
becoming confident.
Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith
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