SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY
Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod 3
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away in the Land of Nod, King Barry was pondering what to do next. He had temporarily won over the Trolls by besting their champion in match play 5 mulligan’s to 4 (being black Irish, King O’Bama had the obvious advantage having taken lessons from a kinsman, Sir Rory McElroy of the Orange Irish, who just happened to be in town that week).
To succeed in saving Nod, King Barry had to win agreement from the Ogres who lived on the Hill closest to the King’s palace, the white house mentioned earlier. The Ogres were a fractious, ill tempered, unpleasant lot…and that’s when they WERE drinking. The Ogres were sort of like the Delts from “Animal House” with many of their “members” on double secret probation (see John Ensign, David Vitter and the guy with too wide a stance).
When the Ogres were sober, which, fortunately wasn’t often, things really got bad. They’d throw brickbats, bon mots, soliloquies, filibusters, gerrymanders and the occasional Lutheran at the White House, but like most noxious gas, it evaporated before causing much damage, other than grinding the process to a halt.
Like their Troll counterparts under the bridge, Ogres were divided into Right Handed and Left handed. They, too, could not get much done without help from the other hand. Unfortunately one hand usually didn’t know what the other hand was doing, so nothing substantive was accomplished. Because there were only 100 Ogres, each Ogre had more power than the average Troll (1 of 485). He believed he was “entitled,” “special,” “unique,” more easily “bribed” err given campaign contributions with no strings attached “wink, wink, nod, nod.” They usually dressed in Panama hats and Seersucker (the name says it all) suits, unlike the Trolls, who wore little, apparently not caring when they exposed their shortcomings.
The top Ogre was a Left-handed dude named Harry, whose home turf, outside the Beltline, had been founded by three guys named Guido and their “family” (cue music from Godfather 1 here). The “family” figured Land of Nodders would fly 2,000 miles to a god-forsaken desert to throw their shekels, guilders, and Benjamin’s down a rat hole as long as Ye Olde Rat Pack performed and their rooms got comped. And to no one’s surprise, the rat hole in the desert became THE vacation destination for the folks of Nod and the wide world. The “family” got filthy rich, sold out to corporations (read: and you think the “family” are crooks, fugittabodit), and moved to Antigua.
Though Sir Harry was not a “family” member, he definitely kissed a lot of ring (well, I couldn’t very well say ass), ate a lot of ziti, and dressed like he was from Jersey (another mystical land populated with aluminum siding contractors, guys named Antonio and women named “Snookie”). Because of that and a lot of sucking up to the Mormon’s, Sir Harry got to be Top Ogre. He could deliver to King Barry an agreement. But at what cost to our hero? Do the words “get out of jail free card for your “family” buddies under federal indictment” sound familiar?
Tune in next time to find out these and other questions like why is Sir John of Stewart a more trusted news source than Faux News and why is there air, on of Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod in SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Thursday, June 30, 2011
SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY 2
SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY
Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod 2
You remember the last time we left King Barry the First O’Bama he was stuck in the quagmire that was INSIDE THE BELTWAY, the dismal swamp where Nod’s Founding Fathers had located the Land’s capital.
King Barry vied for control of Nod with the Ogres, Trolls, and Orcs, the 9 Dwarves, Fairies, Pixies, and assorted gremlins, to name a few.
The Trolls lived under the bridges that were the gateways to the Beltway, harassing Billy Goats Gruff and occasional tourists from Kansas, while controlling what came into and out of the swamp. They looked on themselves as the “peoples’ representatives, probably because they were want to show off their “members” to female people while telling their tea bagging constituents how much they believed in family values.
There were generally two types of Trolls. Left- handed Trolls and Right-handed Trolls. In practice they were pretty hard to tell apart, as when they spoke (out of orifices located next to their anuses), the gases they emanated befogged one and all.
The Left- handed Trolls, according to the Right-handed Trolls, believed in death panels for the elderly, socialism, and dandruff for all. Right-handed Trolls, according to The Left- handed Trolls, wanted to dissolve the safety net, privatize the internet, and make all The Left- handed Trolls wear hairnets. Or something like that. One could never quite be sure due to the befogging Troll gas.
What was certain was that while under the bridges, they ate squirrel on a stick, drank Sterno, and fought about everything. Because the Trolls only had one hand apiece, no heavy lifting could get done unless the Trolls worked together, and with 485 Trolls, the chances of King Barry getting a majority of them to agree to anything (except food, porn and bridge accommodations) were about as good as Lucas doing a new Star Wars – “The Jar-Jar Binks Story – The Empire Throws Up.”
Yet if King Barry were to save the Land of Nod from the evil forces without and within, he must reach an accommodation with the Trolls. How? He asked his leprechaun advisors if he should try reason. After the laughing and guffaws died down, they suggested a duel to the death on Ye Olde Congressional Golfe course. The biggest, baddest, meanest Troll, Sir John of Sobbing accepted the challenge. Though King Barry was much better on the hardwood than the greens, he kept his ball in the middle, while Sir John was always found in the right rough, so far right that even some of his fellow right handed Trolls couldn’t find him.
The match ended with victory for King Barry and a commitment from Sir John to play nice, at least until after they raised the debt ceiling or twenty thousand miles, whichever came first. Sir John’s Troll buddies might have criticized him for accepting the challenge, but they were too busy tweeting pictures their ye olde genitals to unsuspecting maidens to notice.
So King Barry has won his first victory, but there are many more battles to be won if King Barry is to save the Land of Nod and Western Civilization as we know it. Find out next time if he can pull it off in Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY.
Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod 2
You remember the last time we left King Barry the First O’Bama he was stuck in the quagmire that was INSIDE THE BELTWAY, the dismal swamp where Nod’s Founding Fathers had located the Land’s capital.
King Barry vied for control of Nod with the Ogres, Trolls, and Orcs, the 9 Dwarves, Fairies, Pixies, and assorted gremlins, to name a few.
The Trolls lived under the bridges that were the gateways to the Beltway, harassing Billy Goats Gruff and occasional tourists from Kansas, while controlling what came into and out of the swamp. They looked on themselves as the “peoples’ representatives, probably because they were want to show off their “members” to female people while telling their tea bagging constituents how much they believed in family values.
There were generally two types of Trolls. Left- handed Trolls and Right-handed Trolls. In practice they were pretty hard to tell apart, as when they spoke (out of orifices located next to their anuses), the gases they emanated befogged one and all.
The Left- handed Trolls, according to the Right-handed Trolls, believed in death panels for the elderly, socialism, and dandruff for all. Right-handed Trolls, according to The Left- handed Trolls, wanted to dissolve the safety net, privatize the internet, and make all The Left- handed Trolls wear hairnets. Or something like that. One could never quite be sure due to the befogging Troll gas.
What was certain was that while under the bridges, they ate squirrel on a stick, drank Sterno, and fought about everything. Because the Trolls only had one hand apiece, no heavy lifting could get done unless the Trolls worked together, and with 485 Trolls, the chances of King Barry getting a majority of them to agree to anything (except food, porn and bridge accommodations) were about as good as Lucas doing a new Star Wars – “The Jar-Jar Binks Story – The Empire Throws Up.”
Yet if King Barry were to save the Land of Nod from the evil forces without and within, he must reach an accommodation with the Trolls. How? He asked his leprechaun advisors if he should try reason. After the laughing and guffaws died down, they suggested a duel to the death on Ye Olde Congressional Golfe course. The biggest, baddest, meanest Troll, Sir John of Sobbing accepted the challenge. Though King Barry was much better on the hardwood than the greens, he kept his ball in the middle, while Sir John was always found in the right rough, so far right that even some of his fellow right handed Trolls couldn’t find him.
The match ended with victory for King Barry and a commitment from Sir John to play nice, at least until after they raised the debt ceiling or twenty thousand miles, whichever came first. Sir John’s Troll buddies might have criticized him for accepting the challenge, but they were too busy tweeting pictures their ye olde genitals to unsuspecting maidens to notice.
So King Barry has won his first victory, but there are many more battles to be won if King Barry is to save the Land of Nod and Western Civilization as we know it. Find out next time if he can pull it off in Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY 1
SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY
Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod 1
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away there lived a mighty king, who stayed in a very nice White House, with his lovely queen and two darling daughters. His name was King Barry the First O’Bama (black Irish, don’t ya’ know) and he was the most powerful potentate (gotta’ love the alliteration) in the wide world. Yet he was beset on all sides in the Land of Nod, for he was forever doomed to be stuck INSIDE THE BELTWAY.
The Beltway was the vortex in the Land of Nod, where all things good were sucked in, then spewed out in the form of onerous mandates, ethanol subsidies and Newtisms. You see, when the Founding Fathers, err founded the Land of Nod, they plopped the capital smack in the middle of a dismal swamp (which might explain why the Ye Olde Nationals play like toads). To said swamp, the Land’s governing hierarchy hied to and congregated, leaving the Land glad to be rid of them. Sticking them all in one place seemed wise, indeed. Unfortunately, they grew fruitful and multiplied (see John Edwards) and created a quagmire of such epic proportions that not even Cecil B. De Mille could do it justice.
This bog of bottom feeders had not been seen in human history since Roman times. These folk made names like Vandal, horde, and Visigoth sound like a walk in the park compared to what was found dwelling INSIDE THE BELTWAY.
You had Ogres, Trolls, Orcs, the 9 Dwarves, Fairies (seriously), Pixies, and Balrog’s (though those were mostly cab drivers), vassals (gotta’ watch the spelling there), serfs and assorted Leprechauns, banshees, sprites, gremlins and Episcopalians.
The governmental processes in the Land of Nod had been devised centuries before by the aforementioned Founding Fathers, who must have been on crack when they did ordain and establish the thing. In giving the King, the 9 Dwarves, the Ogres and the Trolls virtually co-equal governing powers the FF’s thereby assured that nothing would really ever get done. That might have been ok when it took six weeks to get from Philadelphia to Boston but now with Ye Olde Amtrak it only took five. Life moved faster. Government needed to act quicker, to be more responsive. Yet INSIDE THE BELTWAY, tectonic plates moved faster.
King Barry O’ knew he needed to get things done like last week if he wanted to keep his job, to say nothing of his head (the people of the Land of Nod were real sore losers). The last king, George the Dim ll….. had totally screwed things up. The economy was in shambles, Nod was fighting two wars they should have never been in, and the Prime Time TV lineups sucked. George the Dim ll was held in such low esteem that he could hardly get a book deal…and that was with Ye Olde Readers Digest.
Can good King Barry work his way out of the morass? Can he get along with the strange denizens INSIDE THE BELTWAY? Don’t fail to miss the next exciting episode of Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod in SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY.
Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod 1
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away there lived a mighty king, who stayed in a very nice White House, with his lovely queen and two darling daughters. His name was King Barry the First O’Bama (black Irish, don’t ya’ know) and he was the most powerful potentate (gotta’ love the alliteration) in the wide world. Yet he was beset on all sides in the Land of Nod, for he was forever doomed to be stuck INSIDE THE BELTWAY.
The Beltway was the vortex in the Land of Nod, where all things good were sucked in, then spewed out in the form of onerous mandates, ethanol subsidies and Newtisms. You see, when the Founding Fathers, err founded the Land of Nod, they plopped the capital smack in the middle of a dismal swamp (which might explain why the Ye Olde Nationals play like toads). To said swamp, the Land’s governing hierarchy hied to and congregated, leaving the Land glad to be rid of them. Sticking them all in one place seemed wise, indeed. Unfortunately, they grew fruitful and multiplied (see John Edwards) and created a quagmire of such epic proportions that not even Cecil B. De Mille could do it justice.
This bog of bottom feeders had not been seen in human history since Roman times. These folk made names like Vandal, horde, and Visigoth sound like a walk in the park compared to what was found dwelling INSIDE THE BELTWAY.
You had Ogres, Trolls, Orcs, the 9 Dwarves, Fairies (seriously), Pixies, and Balrog’s (though those were mostly cab drivers), vassals (gotta’ watch the spelling there), serfs and assorted Leprechauns, banshees, sprites, gremlins and Episcopalians.
The governmental processes in the Land of Nod had been devised centuries before by the aforementioned Founding Fathers, who must have been on crack when they did ordain and establish the thing. In giving the King, the 9 Dwarves, the Ogres and the Trolls virtually co-equal governing powers the FF’s thereby assured that nothing would really ever get done. That might have been ok when it took six weeks to get from Philadelphia to Boston but now with Ye Olde Amtrak it only took five. Life moved faster. Government needed to act quicker, to be more responsive. Yet INSIDE THE BELTWAY, tectonic plates moved faster.
King Barry O’ knew he needed to get things done like last week if he wanted to keep his job, to say nothing of his head (the people of the Land of Nod were real sore losers). The last king, George the Dim ll….. had totally screwed things up. The economy was in shambles, Nod was fighting two wars they should have never been in, and the Prime Time TV lineups sucked. George the Dim ll was held in such low esteem that he could hardly get a book deal…and that was with Ye Olde Readers Digest.
Can good King Barry work his way out of the morass? Can he get along with the strange denizens INSIDE THE BELTWAY? Don’t fail to miss the next exciting episode of Ancient Tales from the Land of Nod in SOMEWHERE OVER THE BELTWAY.
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