With the Best of Economic Intentions.

Reedsy hasn’t deemed it necessary to give us a ‘Satire’ category yet. I guess satire mainly appeals to the disillusioned that have had the scales fall from their eyes to rain down to their feet like Autumn leaves. This little effort below is crass and uncouth, and I had fun writing it. ************************************************************

 I think I should be able to put one over this prick. He’s not a prick really, - he’s my friend. He says he is a businessman, yet spends half his time coaching kids. He must have some ulterior motive and when I find out what it is, it’s 'curtains,' not for him, but his silly pipe-dreams.

I’ll teach him to try to take the ‘high moral ground’ with his environmental posturing and trying to piss on me from a great height. He may look good on his posters with his ridiculously white even teeth. Nobody gets born with such a good set of gnashers like that.  

 We used to be closer friends before he got all ‘holier than thou,’ then he really went to the pack. I swear he thinks he can walk on water now, but I’ve got a couple of sets of lead boots for him to wear and we’ll see what happens to that flashing smile that all the ladies are enraptured with.  

 Of course, I’m not really being malicious, I’m doing it for his own good. I want to remind him of the time when he had his feet firmly on rational ground, ‘cos I miss our ‘piss-ups’ when we would shag anything that moved. Nothing kinky, mind you, they did need to have the right ‘kit of tools.’ 

 The one thing my friend couldn’t argue with was my evidence that the accumulation of dosh is far more rapid by way of a military contract than an environmental one. I am raking it in at least five times the amount by making ‘cluster bombs’ to rid the earth of superfluous citizenry, rather than trying to leave them hungry by planting leafy green vegetables for them to eat. I’m sure his rational self knows a sensible ‘God-Fearing' country is raised on steak. Juicy, blood dripping steak just having had a touch of the iron skillet. That’s white-man’s food and has enabled the ‘Free World’ to be at the top of the economic pile. 

 The ‘powers that be’ have deemed that we need to ‘clear-fell’ any obstructions to the oil-fields, and I, as a rational, hand on heart, flag saluter, concur. Commerce makes this world a desirable place to inhabit, and throwing scraps to the undeserving will clutter up the playing field. 

 It is unfortunate that we have just lost a leader that knew we were the only country in this world worth saving, I mean, in the fullest sense of the word. He had a clear insight into what needed to be done, but imbeciles dragged him down before he had finished the job. We could have had a whiter world by the end of 2024 and just with the aid of a simple button. Who would be around in those ‘God Forsaken’ countries to protest afterwards? 

 We have the muscle; very little brain is needed. Maybe some of our preferred leader’s cohorts will manage to inveigle themselves into this more ‘wishy-washy’ future incumbent’s attention and turn him into someone with a firmer backbone. He’s reached the age of second childhood now, so always liable to throw his toys out of the cot. However, once the reins are more firmly in his hands, he’ll soon know which side of his bread is buttered and who will be there to change his diaper. 

 I didn’t pay out millions to depend upon the vagaries of a population that doesn’t know the difference between a Congressman and a Senator; Who cares? My Lobbyist smooths these differences out to a simple financial consideration. Certainty is the criteria that governments need to be able to function well. We can’t have a fickle population upsetting our ‘apple-carts.’ Give them the illusion of change, but make sure the reins stay in sensible hands. I’m sure this present pensioner will protect our ‘time-honored’ tradition of business before welfare, or else.   

 Might is right, and my friend will soon realize this truism. In the end he will thank me. As I said, I miss him. 

 *** 

 The world is overpopulated by the wrong sort of people. We need ‘God-Fearing’ white Christian small family pill-popping to this end, people, to keep this world safe and pure. Like wild birds, if you keep feeding the riff raff, they will multiply. They are not happy, they cannot even afford sensible clothes to wear, and often, don’t have a knife and fork, not to mention a spoon, to eat their meals with. We will be doing them a favor by letting them depart for an existence with a sensible God. 

 My Lobbyist assures me that there will be plenty of money to convert my friend’s, almost money-losing facilities, into a more profitable production of items that make the free-world a more commodious place to live in. Eventually, he will be grateful and his beaming smile will once again grace some of the ‘flesh-pots’ that we love so well. 

 Naturally, clandestine and military are almost synonymous in this modern age, and I’m thankful that it is so. I retain many tons of dioxin left over from when we were cleansing the Far East of its perverted ways, but of course, we didn’t use enough. ‘Cold Feet’ is what some governments suffer from, and despicably, ours suffered this complaint in a deplorable measure. Hence, I still have quite a store of this chemical and it will come to the rescue of my friend now. 

 My friend has developed an aquaponic system which he will distribute at cost-with-very-little-plus, to the people with very little wherewithal so they can carry on over-populating this world. This I seek to disabuse him of by way of my undercover friends from -none dare speak their name,’ by way of dropping a few gallons of this liquid into the overseas project farms water supply. He will be grateful to me in the long run. 

 *** 

He’s had time to lick his wounds now and get over the debacle. I will go and visit him brandishing a superb contract that will get the light reflecting off of his teeth into every nook and cranny. We will soon be carousing throughout the neighborhood's best drinking and filly establishments in our fine city. We will regale all and sundry with our splendid accompaniments to the best of Country music provided by that rough bearded community. Money will be pouring out of our ears, to use the jargon of a yesteryear.  

 There here is, running toward me and toting a fine example of one of the guns I produce. I hope he keeps his finger off the trigger. They are set to not require much of a pull. This model fires quite a few rounds a minute and I wish he would point it up in the air. Hell’s Bell’s, he doesn’t look grateful at all. Ouch, ouch, the bastard’s shot me, and all I did for him!