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PrintNovember 18, 2010
Tales of 57 States: The Peasants Revolt
Alas, it came to pass late in the 2nd year of the Reign of His Obamaness as POTUS of the 57 States that the peasants of the Realm began to revolt against the Donkey Clan in particular, and the Ruling Class in general.
Now these peasants were the descendents, not so much in blood as in character, of the serfs of long ago who revolted against the Third George, King of the Limies. Though they had once been a stiff-necked people, when transgressed against, over time their cries of "Don't tread on me! and "Give me liberty or give me death," had become "Give me a double mocha latte, or give me something free."
Though once a people who had unleashed their dogs of war on George's dragoons, they had become wards of the Ruling Class sheep dogs, and their defiant "naw" become a compliant "baaaa". But, behold, when circumstances dictate, things do, indeed, change when the character of a people is not destroyed by years of being sheared.
As is wont to happen when peasants awaken from a collective fleecing, one day a new battle cry was heard in the Realm. "Don't touch my junk!" It was similar to "Don't tase me, bro," but more serious. Much more. That is, for all except a Senator named Claire "That's the way I like it, ah ha" McCaskill who described the feeling she felt, from the one called Big Sis, as "love taps". But I'm getting ahead of the story.
It began with angry young men who represented...well, let's say, a view of the world that perceived others, those not simpatico with their beliefs about existential matters regarding alleged metaphysical realities, as unbelievers unworthy to further mark the planet with their carbon footprints.
Now, it happened that in response to a man-made disaster brought upon the Realm by these angry young men, the Ruling Class, which had long had one hand thrust deep into the pockets of the peasants that held their purses, moved their other hand in close proximity to the peasants' private "junk" -- a euphemism for, you know, private parts.
It had been many long decades during which the peasants had been without power to hinder Tiny Tim Geithner and his predecessors from removing their coins from their pants at will. But, when the Legionnaires of Big Sis, who herself had once been in charge of full-body cavity searches in the Arizona women's prisons, began to thrust their paws down the pants of the peasants in order to protect them from the angry young men who represented...well, you know what they represented...those probing fingers were not perceived by the peasants as indicating an affection such as was felt by the Senator from the Show Me State. Or, maybe she was from the Feel Me, Touch Me state once heralded by singing minstrels called the Who.
In response to the un-love taps the peasants felt as they climbed aboard the wagons, carts and carriages that carried them across the Realm, among many of them was once again heard, as in the days of the Third George, the "naw" of a stiff-necked people.
Upon hearing their voices, Big Sis snapped her rubber gloves and said, "Fine. So just walk, peasants."
