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Showing posts with label Joe Arpaio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joe Arpaio. Show all posts

Sunday, December 10, 2017

403. Future

“Hey Big Dope.”

“Hello C.W.”

I assumed it was C.W. The shape was of the late Carl Sagan, but since he is dead, there’s no use pretending. I was in the shop working on a project when he wandered in. He didn’t say anything, just walked around and fiddled with different tools. This distracted me, so I told him to stop.

He held up a caliper and said, “Good tool. They once used something like it in science classes.”

“They don’t use them still?”

“Not since they don’t have science classes anymore.”

That got my attention. “They what?”

“Don’t you keep up with things?

“What does that have to do with science classes?”

“I can’t believe you just asked me that. You know as well as I that your species hasn’t taught science since the second year of Mike Pence’s presidency.”

I stopped what I was doing and turned off the machine. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Your ignorance. You might as well be asking if I’ve been committing CNAV.”

“C.W.,” I said, “you have me totally confused.”

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know what Church Non-Attendance Violation is.”

I didn’t respond.

“Have you been so busy out here that you’ve been guilty of C…,?”

I interrupted him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That’s okay. The penalty for the first offense is just a week in re-education camp. I can attest to that.” He paused for a few seconds. “Oh, and have you filed your Personal Unacceptable Behavior Enemies list? They are due by the end of the year.”

“Have you gone berserk?”

“Not at all. FBI Director Madoff has stiffened the penalties for noncompliance this year. He says fully developed and verifiable PUBES are critical to the moral welfare of the country. He just arrested three women and two men for shaving theirs, shaving names off their lists of known gays, that is.”

“Director Madoff?”

“Now don’t tell me you don’t know who Bernie Madoff is?”

“I thought I did. But …”

“I wouldn’t mess with him. He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“What?”
 
The future can be scary. - C.W.
“Emperor Trump, President Arpaio, and General Kushner have ordered him to help Secretary of Defense Moore join forces with the new Secretary of State, and begin cleaning up what used to be the Middle East. They say that the radioactivity has subsided enough. I think they intend to start on Texas after that.”

“New Secretary of State? What on earth are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t heard they appointed Franklin Graham to finish out Sarah Palin’s term after she became Secretary-General over at the UN.”

“I haven’t,” I said. “And did you say ‘General Kushner’ a minute ago?”

“I’m beginning to worry about you,” he said.

“The Kushner I know has no military experience. You must be making stuff up.”

He shook his head in disdain. “Look,” he said. “We have no military anymore, so what difference does it make who the head of it is? What is it with you about expertise? Treasury Secretary Osteen isn't even an economist.”

“C.W.,” I said, “we’re going to have to sit down and talk for a few minutes.”

“First sensible thing you’ve said all day.” A shudder went through his body. “Wait one.” He shuddered again. “I’m receiving a report. I think maybe it’s about what they plan to do with those teenage girls they caught reading novels.”

“Girls reading novels?”

“Yeah, can you imagine what kind of mess they would have if there were any boys still left around?” He shuddered again. And again. Then he said in a weak voice. “No. Are you telling me the truth? How embarrassing. How did it happen? I’m ready when you are.” He turned to me and said, “I’m going to be off-presence for a moment or two.”

“What’s the matter?”

“During this morning’s adjustment transmittal, they got my Constant Relative Adjustment Positioner out of sequence.”

“And?”

“My CRAP has been off by nearly seven Earth-years ever since.”

“C.W.,” I said, “Before you go, answer me this about the things you said. Are these the shadows of the things that will be, or are they shadows of things that may be, only?”

“Oh,” he said. “That will be up to you.”

I've had no further intercourse with the form of C.W. Future, but I will try live upon the Total Resistance Principle, ever afterwards; and may it was always be said of me, that I knew how to keep my love for America and its people well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!


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Sunday, August 27, 2017

389: Redemption

“What on Earth?”

“I’m packing.” It was true. C.W. had a bag with essential items laid out and appeared ready to depart on some journey or other. I hoped he wasn’t going in his present form, the Galilean, since he would never make it through the first checkpoint. I suspect that a white robe and sandals on a Middle-Easterner would set off profile detector alarms all over the airport.

“Going somewhere?”.

“You remind me of the man who met a friend who said he was on his way to his brother’s funeral.”

“And?”

“The man asked, “Oh, did your brother die?”

A glimmer of hope appeared. “Going back to Falloonia?”

“No the dungiderphicupageen hasn’t run out there yet.”

“The what?”

“What you call the ‘statute of restrictive boundaries.’ We have them there too.”

“Oh, you mean a statute of limitations?”

“There you go repeating what I say again.”

“What was your crime?”

“You don’t have a word for it in your language.”

“Serious, eh?”

“A case of improper identification. That’s all.”

“Oh?”

“The word for ‘Elder-kin’ is very similar in Falloonian to ‘willing young thing,’ if you really must know.”

“Aaah. So where are you headed?”

“To Washington.”

“To Washington? Where in Washington?”

“A redemption center.”

“What are you going to redeem?”

“Not what, how? Hand me that, will you?” He pointed at a what appeared to be a set of cat o' nine tails.”

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Express my desire for redemption.”

“Your what?”

“Redemption. Our representative in the East has learned from a source that they are setting up redemption centers where the unsaved can be pardoned and returned, with the proper display of contrition, to the fold.”

“What fold?”

“The right fold.”

“As in ‘the appropriate fold?’”

“As in ‘the right fold.’”

“Aaah.” So, does flagellation serve as a justification for being brought into the ‘right’ fold?”

“I don’t know. I thought it might help. I can’t promise to vote right since I can’t vote, and I have only as much money as you are willing to give me. I don’t think you would extend me a large amount for this particular purpose.”

“You got that right. So, you think this seeking of a pardon on Earth might help with your, uh, little situation in Falloonia?”

“Oh heavens no.” He stopped and chuckled. “Listen to me, ‘oh heavens no.’ You’d think I was homesick. We have rules in Falloonia.”

“Rules?”

“More like guidelines that we follow without fail. We don’t bend them for political purposes. Otherwise we would be no better than … .” He stopped before he said it.

“But you said you were going to seek redemption.”

“For forgiveness, actually.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

“For being a stranger in a strange land.”

“You are seeking a pardon for that?”

“Exactly.”
 
I don't think I heard that
ex-sheriff say that. - C.W.
"Are you going to express remorse?"

"The last one they pardoned didn't have to."

“Do you have any supporting evidence that you plan to take?”

“Only something Dad said.”

“And that was?”

“Do not deprive the foreigner or the fatherless of justice.”

“That’s only one line of the many things he said.”

“It only takes you people one line from a holy scripture to form a national policy.”

“Do you think it might work in your case?”

“It hasn’t yet, but Dad and I are the eternal optimists.”

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