As the election gets ever nearer, I wonder what it would be like should Obama win?
I wrote this piece in March 2012, and reprint it here because, while containing a certain degree of tongue firmly planted in cheek, it conveys some truth about expectations should Obama win.
I hope you enjoy it!
Visions of forests, lakes, waterfalls and
bikini clad girls swirl through my mind as the remnants of teenage
memories and old man’s dreams efficiently wash away any logic that
stubbornly claims ownership of my sleep.
And
yet, through the colors and sounds of summer fun on mountain lakes, I
recognize a noise that is out of place. My mind struggles to hear the
noise between the laughter and raucous shouts of myriad memories. There
it is again…a loud hissing noise, perhaps closer to a groan…or a growl?
It fills the early morning quiet, and then is gone in an instant.
I
recognize Sierra’s voice…distressed, loud…her big girl outdoor voice
booming as she runs back and forth along the patio outside our bedroom
door. This is not the same voice she uses when greeting the occasional
stray dog that trespasses on our yard, and certainly not the voice that
she uses to warn strangers that if they enter, they will be eaten….no,
this was a voice I had not heard before…a voice full of urgency,
pregnant with warning, and vibrating with uncertainty.
I
shake my head to clear the cobwebs, mostly unconvincingly. The mercury
is creeping past 60 degrees and I know it is going to be another perfect
day. One advantage of living here is the weather….beautiful one day,
perfect the next. The alarm had not yet gone off, and I took a moment to
be thankful that the shrill alarm would not disturb my dreams this day!
Sierra’s barking, however, was another thing, bringing me back to
almost wakefulness as it matured into a more aggressive warning.
I
heard the strange sound again. This time it is closer, louder…and
definitely more like a hissing growl than a groan. Very loud. It split
the eerily quiet morning like a thunderclap…and then was gone once more.
I could smell an odd scent hanging in the air…it was almost like
sulphur and ozone, but not quite. I tried to place it as I had smelled
it before but that part of my memory had not yet awoken…it was still at
the mountain retreat!
Stumbling
from bed, I went to the patio door where I was greeted by a very
distressed Sierra. She hid behind my legs, shaking and growling. She
peeked past me from time to time, the guttural growling raising the
hairs on my arms and legs. I looked outside, and saw ….nothing.
Tuesday
is trash pick-up day, I remembered…the fog slowly clearing as sleep
became a faint memory. Sierra must be barking at the trash man as is her
normal Tuesday morning ritual…but if that is the case, why is she
cowering behind my legs and not down by the gate where can watch the
trash man jump when she reminds him that this is HER place? Nope…it
can’t be that…and besides…that doesn’t explain that haunting noise and
the odd scent hanging in the air.
There
is the noise once more. Closer now. Loud enough to waken the dead….and
the scent is much stronger. I take a deep breath and with Sierra close
to my side step out onto the patio. I look toward the direction of the
sound, briefly wondering why the normal birdsongs are not present, but
again see nothing. Sierra takes a step forward and immediately barks and
growls, looking skyward. Following her gaze, I finally see it.
Hanging
in the sky like it was attached with hooks was …well…as I was about to
mouth its name, the earsplitting hissing/growling noise reminded me of
dragons of old, and this image was magnified by the fire that was coming
from the belly of this beast.
With
growling and fire emanating from its belly, it continued to hang
there….no more than 20 – 30 feet above our back fence….waiting to pounce
if we moved a muscle. The colors in the bright morning light were
blinding, such finery as to compete with the finest peacock. And yet,
such fearsome sounds.
Sierra
looked up at me as if to say…”I told you dragons were real….and now,
here is one ready to swoop down and catch the unwary in its talons and
take it away, never to be seen again!”
Ever
so slowly, the dragon passed overhead….seeming to be no longer be
interested in us. Sierra watched intently, growling stubbornly, as it
left to find a less protected target.
Just
like children, dogs do not need stories of monsters and dragons to
convince them that such creatures are real. They already know.
“The
“Katchers” were out early today”, I muttered as I breathed a sigh of
relief and made my way to my government issued height meter. The morning
ritual of weighing myself had been enhanced by the need to check my
height every day…my very survival depending on my being at least 5ft
10in tall!
Damn that Obama…damn Obamacare…damn “Apart Height” that march to slavery that Obama implemented in his 3rd
term….oh how I wish America had listened back in 2012 when she had the
chance to end this tyrant’s power grab…but it wasn’t to be.
Looking
at the calendar it hard to believe that it is already March of
2018….just 6 short years since Obama was re-elected for his second term.
How could we have possibly been so blind to have re-elected this
monster…and how could we have gotten to this point in such a short time?
Being
something of a history buff, and needing to record the truth for future
generations (the real truth – not the government truth as told by the
state run media) I sat at my government issued desk, and pulled out my
tattered diary with handwriting using homemade ink…faded and
inconsistent, it was hard to make out some of the words …the paper was
the best I could find, and the ink was only as good as the last batch I
could make from the juices of government provided fruits and vegetables.
The art of handwriting had become unnecessary in this utopian age of
computers and keyboards….but nothing written on a computer could be kept
from the all-seeing eyes of the government controlled media barrons….so
for my own protection, paper and homemade ink was the only solution.
Turning to the first page of the diary I note that things happened very quickly.
As
soon as the votes were counted on November 6, 2012 and it was apparent
that Obama was going to win by a small margin, he leaped into action,
calling Congress together and setting out his agenda for the next 4
years.
Three
days later, explosions at an oil refinery in Houston killed 17 workers
and pumped clouds of noxious and highly poisonous gases into the air.
The evacuation process was hampered by Hurricane Samantha which blew
ashore as a category 5….never known to have happened at this time of the
year before. A day earlier the hurricane had destroyed 3 deep drill oil
rigs in the Gulf, spilling thousands of gallons of oil into the gulf
every hour, in what is now hailed as the worst oil disaster the world
has ever known.
(Some
time later evidence was found that may have linked the oil rig
disasters and the refinery explosion to a shadowy group known as “Cold
Fish”, an eco-terrorist group with ties to Rahm Emmanuel and the Obama
administration, but none of this could be proven.)
In
any event, Obama sprang into action, closing down all oil operations in
the country until further notice. The EPA was instructed to ensure all
operations ceased and given authority to close down all refineries, all
research activities, all drilling activities…anything that even smelled
like it could be related to oil closed down.
The
price of oil on the global markets reacted almost instantly reaching a
high of $680 a barrel. By the time this oil reached the gas station as
gasoline, it was priced at $34 a gallon!
The American economy stopped overnight.
Obama
could not believe his fortune…within days of winning re-election he had
been handed the ultimate tool for the fruition of his long term goals.
In
short order and with the full support of the unions, he nationalized
the energy industry, the motor vehicle industry and the finance
industry. Farming and food production followed. Education and the media
were the second to last to feel the swiftness of his actions.
And finally, medicine was nationalized.
This
was left to last as he already had significant control of the industry
through Obamacare…and that is where we, the people, made our biggest
mistake.
You
see, while it was clear that the balance of power had changed…that
fewer people chose to work for a living, instead choosing to vote for a
living (hence Obama’s re-election)…it was not clear how Obama was going
to keep the economy running, even a socialist economy needs workers, and
with more and more people choosing not to work, it did not take a
Rhodes Scholar to understand that disaster was not far away.
But there was Obamacare…therein was the solution.
With Obamacare it was possible to mandate what level of care should be provided…and what would not be provided.
How could Obama use this to his own ends?
His
first thought was that the elderly could be denied treatment until they
had served a certain number of months or years working for the
government….a neat idea except that he also understood that the elderly
and the sick would not be the most productive. No...he needed a better
solution.
He needed a way to get control of the lives of the young, the healthy, and the strong.
The solution came to him one night as he was sipping Crystal Champaign and watching the March Madness basketball games.
He
noticed that the taller players may have been getting more of the ball,
but it was the shorter players that were setting up the plays, had more
energy, were faster and really were the engines of the team.
The
engines…the engine….his mind saw an opportunity…what if the energy of
the smaller people could be harnessed to work in the factories, the
farms, the mines….what if we could use these “engines” to drive our
economy?
And with that single thought, the tragedy of “Apart Height” was born.
It was simple really….
Use Obamacare to mandate that every person must register with their health provider and that on their 18th
birthday they must present themselves for a government provided free
medical exam. As part of that exam, everybody who was under 5ft 2in
would be deemed to be in need of specific medical care, including a
regimen of physical activity combined with a diet of high proteins,
limited starches and daily vitamin supplements.
It
was in the best health interest of these short people to be assisted
through this health problem….the government would provide all their
needs…while they worked to build the cars, the farms, the furniture, the
entertainment that a civilized society needs.
Apart
Height….it soon became apparent that many people over the age of 18
were also shorter….and Obama had a very elegant solution.
Since
the country was now nationalized and everybody worked for the
government, there was no longer any need for income taxes…the IRS had
thousands of trained agents who no longer could justify their existence
as tax collectors. They could easily be retrained as “Katchers” and sent
out to locate anybody under the 5ft 2in height limit….catching them and
transporting them to the special government facilities that would look
after these folk.
And so it was…Katchers were dispatched far and wide in search of short people.
But
the people were addicted to stuff…their demands for more and more free
stuff became stronger and stronger….and Obama knew that his reign would
only last as long as he could keep his addicted people happy.
To give away more free stuff…he needed to produce more…and to produce more, he needed more workers.
But
that was a simple problem…it was easy to slowly increase the Apart
Height limits…so each year since 2013, the height limit was increased.
Slowly it crept up, until today…where it stands at 5ft 10in.
Where will it be next year? I suspect somewhere over 6ft!!
And
all the time, more and more people are being taken by the “Katchers” to
work in the production houses controlled by the government…while less
and less people were tall enough to avoid the forced labor regime.
But an addicted people is a hungry beast…ravenous for freebies, and a never ending desire for more, more, more…
It happened in February 2018….the great Apart Height Escape.
You
see, Obama had forgotten that intellect is not dependent on size. He
forgot that man strives for freedom and when he is pushed far enough,
will do anything to protect that freedom.
Six
years of government sponsored slavery was enough time for the short
folk to organize, to plan, to create underground railroads ready to
spirit them away when the time came.
And
on one cool morning while the guards were still sleeping off the excess
of the night before, a nationwide jail break occurred.
Short
people ran for the safety offered by millions of tall folk who knew in
their hearts that Apart Height was wrong….that they would rather die
than give up their freedoms that way.
The
addicted remained in their drugged haze, too fat and stupid to know
what had happened or why….too tied up in the latest episode of
Washington Wives to care about their own future, let alone that of their
neighbor, friend or even their families. As long as the government teat
was offered and they could suck, they were happy.
When
Obama learned of the jail break he dispatched the Katchers….armed with
automatic guns they were ordered to shoot on sight…and if a tall person
got caught in the crossfire, so be it.
He
would teach the people of America who was in charge. The benevolent
dictator who fed the addictions of his people became the fearsome tyrant
overnight.
As the machine carrying
the Katchers moved away…I sighed quietly and settled in for a nap before
writing today’s entry in my diary…..
Visions
of forests, lakes, waterfalls and bikini clad girls swirl through my
mind as the remnants of teenage memories and old man’s dreams
efficiently wash away any logic that stubbornly claims ownership of my
sleep.
And
yet, through the colors and sounds of summer fun on mountain lakes, I
recognize a noise that is out of place. My mind struggles to hear the
noise between the laughter and raucous shouts of myriad memories. There
it is again…a loud hissing noise, perhaps closer to a groan…or a growl?
It fills the early morning quiet, and then is gone in an instant.
I
recognize Sierra’s voice…distressed, loud…her big girl outdoor voice
booming as she runs back and forth along the patio outside our bedroom
door. This is not the same voice she uses when greeting the occasional
stray dog that trespasses on our yard, and certainly not the voice that
she uses to warn strangers that if they enter, they will be eaten….no,
this was a voice I had not heard before…a voice full of urgency,
pregnant with warning, and vibrating with uncertainty.
I
shake my head to clear the cobwebs, mostly unconvincingly. The mercury
is creeping past 60 degrees and I know it is going to be another perfect
day. One advantage of living here is the weather….beautiful one day,
perfect the next. The alarm had not yet gone off, and I took a moment to
be thankful that the shrill alarm would not disturb my dreams this day!
Sierra’s barking, however, was another thing, bringing me back to
almost wakefulness as it matured into a more aggressive warning.
I
heard the strange sound again. This time it is closer, louder…and
definitely more like a hissing growl than a groan. Very loud. It split
the eerily quiet morning like a thunderclap…and then was gone once more.
I could smell an odd scent hanging in the air…it was almost like
sulphur and ozone, but not quite. I tried to place it as I had smelled
it before but that part of my memory had not yet awoken…it was still at
the mountain retreat!
Stumbling
from bed, I went to the patio door where I was greeted by a very
distressed Sierra. She hid behind my legs, shaking and growling. She
peeked past me from time to time, the guttural growling raising the
hairs on my arms and legs. I looked outside, and saw ….nothing.
Tuesday
is trash pick-up day, I remembered…the fog slowly clearing as sleep
became a faint memory. Sierra must be barking at the trash man as is her
normal Tuesday morning ritual…but if that is the case, why is she
cowering behind my legs and not down by the gate where can watch the
trash man jump when she reminds him that this is HER place? Nope…it
can’t be that…and besides…that doesn’t explain that haunting noise and
the odd scent hanging in the air.
There
is the noise once more. Closer now. Loud enough to waken the dead….and
the scent is much stronger. I take a deep breath and with Sierra close
to my side step out onto the patio. I look toward the direction of the
sound, briefly wondering why the normal birdsongs are not present, but
again see nothing. Sierra takes a step forward and immediately barks and
growls, looking skyward. Following her gaze, I finally see it.
Hanging
in the sky like it was attached with hooks was …well…as I was about to
mouth its name, the earsplitting hissing/growling noise reminded me of
dragons of old, and this image was magnified by the fire that was coming
from the belly of this beast.
With
growling and fire emanating from its belly, it continued to hang
there….no more than 20 – 30 feet above our back fence….waiting to pounce
if we moved a muscle. The colors in the bright morning light were
blinding, such finery as to compete with the finest peacock. And yet,
such fearsome sounds.
Sierra
looked up at me as if to say…”I told you dragons were real….and now,
here is one ready to swoop down and catch the unwary in its talons and
take it away, never to be seen again!”
Ever
so slowly, the dragon passed overhead….seeming to be no longer be
interested in us. Sierra watched intently, growling stubbornly, as it
left to find a less protected target.
As
I watched the hot air balloon float serenely overhead, my mind searched
frantically for a remnant of a dream ….but could not find it….
….it had something to do with short people…or tall people…or Obama….what was it?
While
I don’t remember the details, I know that to re-elect Obama in November
will be the worst possible thing that could happen to this great
country.
There is only one way out....do NOT vote Obama!
…..devereaux
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