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Mars Day 11: The War Room

I’m down inside the war-room, although the term “war-room” might be a bit fancy for my current digs.  I never thought I’d need a war-room, but as it turns out I do.  It’s in the basement of the “white house”.  I’m trying to escape detection, so I’ll have to whisper.  Truth be told they didn’t put a basement in this house, so by basement I mean a sort of a sideways gofer hole.  I’ve never before dug a hole so deep and so far and so fast.  My fingers are frozen to the nub.  Those little people have shown me a side to their nature that I was not aware of.  Their like tiny Tasmanian Devils! 

As you know, my house is made of snow and ice, so when I wouldn’t open the door…those annoying little green and brown and yellow and red urchins started burrowing right through the outside walls.  I was dead asleep when I started to hear them banging on the door.  A short while later I started to hear scratching and clawing on the walls.  I thought I had mice.  Then their little rat-heads started poking through the walls.  I thought I was seeing things.  Imagine colorful little red, yellow, green and brown heads popping in from all directions.  I thought it was a Muppet invasion!

Thank Gork I managed to make such a good friend of Ablo.  I had no idea that he was so highly regarded when I approached him.  But he is.  That was a stroke of luck.  Ablo is upstairs trying to calm them down so’s they will listen to an alternate proposal from my last initiative.  I call it operation “debt ceiling”.  I modeled it after something the United States Congress keeps approving.  You see, rather than trying to cap to our spending to match our revenue…we simply borrow the money.  And the beauty of this program is that we can keep borrowing until it is literally impossible to repay our creditors.  And then we can buy even more time by printing money.  Oh, sure, there might be a wee bit of inflation, but people will get used to paying higher prices after a while. 

By the time the Gore hits the fan, I’ll be retired, with a big fat bank account, and it will be someone else’s problem.  And if they bitch and moan I’ll point the blame at the current administration and remind them of how good people had it when I was in office.

And if you think you can’t stomach my solution, I’ll prove that you can.  Go find your wee ones; your little new-born babies and your little grand-babies.  Pick them up in your arms and look them in their precious innocent little eyes and say to them, “Little fella, someday this will belong to you.” 

Kinda puts a lump in my throat just thinking about it.

Sounds like it’s all quiet on the on the frozen front.  Time to poke my head out and see if Albo was able to set the table for my big speech tomorrow.  Til tomorrow then…