Thursday, February 2, 2012

View From The Moon

Last week I spoke of the challenge of maintaining my sanity as I am housebound recovering from pneumonia. One of the practices I do nightly at 6 for attitude adjustment is to watch Rachel Maddow. I’m indebted to her for the inspiration to compose the following satire.

Recuperating in my Lazy-Boy the last two weeks I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate how to accomplish Romney’s vision of solving our national crises.
Firstly, self-deportation. I am high on his list of undesirables, as are most of my LGBT friends. This also incudes the bulk of my artist clan, for anyone with their own vision is discouraged from belonging to his society. Secondly, converting to the middle class, the class that really matters to him.

At the same time, we could attain Newt’s dream of farming on the moon by 2025.
All of these goals could be accomplished in one swoop by convincing those of us in the undesirable categories (including Newt’s half sister) to self deport to the moon.
Since the Super Bowl is about to happen, I think we should buy three minutes to advertise my concept at half time. I wonder if his Super Pac would finance us? By the way, wardrobe malfunctions would be required in the moon congress at 2pm daily, thus avoiding any cover up operations. Everyone not in congress would be employed as a lobbyist, thus achieving universal middle class, or maybe even upper middle class, as the lack of gravity would allow us to bounce higher and higher. The job of a lobbyist would be to supervise bridge games with the new rules: NO Trump. We might also have to staff the PALE INN.

On the moon we would have many temples. In fact each person would have his/her own, as long as it didn’t weigh too much. Entrance would be allowed to anyone with a thought in his/her head. It would be a utopian society, for only wise old women or men acutely testosterone deprived would be allowed to rule, with the possible exception of older men with erectile dysfunction. All illegals would be welcomed, especially those who know how to milk cows and grow vegetables, which includes all the Mexicans in California and Arizona. Every moon resident would be required to subscribe in principle to joining the middle class, for the day might come all of us would have to stand on the moon’s equator to balance things. War would be out of the question for we would all know that any form of physical aggression might tip the scale throwing us out of orbit, and who wants that?

In order to keep from being bored we’d have convinced Ellen to self deport to lead moon dancing. Skinny-dipping and streaking competitions would be encouraged. At 4pm each day volunteers would hostess the TEASE party where food stamps would be freely distributed. Each citizen would initiate a raucous caucus on the day the lunar eclipse approached. Occasionally all residents might be called out to stand asteroid watch and/or to repair the safety net which Romney wisely included when he accepted our self deportation application. But I doubt any of us would want to return. What’s your hunch?


Beth Bourland said...

To Newt I say: Good idea, you go first!! Remember the theme song of "The Jeffersons"? Mooovin' on up, to the top, to a dee-lux apartment, in the sky... yeah, we're moooving on up!!!

Pat'nJomama said...

I'd say you're recovered, up'n at'em! Clever beyond my mindset today ... fun to read, no Trump, OK. You could submit this to the local rag, expect part-time employment as "social critic" offering advice. Suggestion: watch for CIALIS smugglers, send them back.