Sunday, July 13, 2014
Dina Fonestone was walking her black cat along the sidewalk of Republicrat Valley Park. This was the same route she always took on her days not sitting in the seat of the United States Senate, a seat of which she has held since about the time the Federal Reserve was established. As she entered through the opening gate, she came across one of those peasants she always saw as simple-minded and unable to care for himself.
“Mrs. Fonsetone! Mrs. Fonestone!” the
poor peasant cried out. Sigh. She
must donate her charitable omniscience to this poor creature the universe has
heartlessly bestowed upon the world.
“What is it, dear boy?” She asked.
“Did you hear about what happened in the
next town this morning?” he exclaimed. “Someone has lost all of the income tax
information they were supposed to keep for seven years when their computer
crashed! They forgot to back up the files on their hardrive, but instead of
trying to recover these files they ended up destroying the original hardrive
that contained them! Such a tragedy! The court ordered them to hand over the
documents, but they ignored the court order and destroyed them anyway. Then
when they pled the fifth when asked why they did this, the judge had no choice!
There were police cars everywhere! They had to bust in the front door, ransack
the person’s house, freeze all their accounts, garnish all wages and sell all
of the assets in their name before throwing them in jail for tax evasion! Such
a tragedy! Such a horrible tragedy!”
The poor peasant finally paused to
breathe while looking for Mrs. Fonestone’s reaction.
“Well,” she began, “it looks like the
person had what was coming to them for breaking the law and not paying their
fair share.” She smiled, assured that she had provided the simple man with comfort
in their legal system.
“You think so, Mrs. Fonestone?” he
asked.
“Don’t you worry, dear,” she coddled.
“The government will take care of everything.”
“Are you sure about that, Mrs.
Fonestone?” he asked, a puzzled expression forming on his face.
Rolling her eyes, she choked out an
annoyed tone as she replied: “Of course I’m sure, peasant. Why would you think
I wouldn’t be?”
“Because, ma’am,” he began, “it was at
the White House.”
Immediately Dina began pointing a
furious finger at the peasant, shouting “TERRORIST EXTREMIST! OVER HERE!”
And the poor peasant was arrested,
indefinitely detained, and executed without trial.
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