FSG Blog
March 8, 2013

I’ve Seen the Future, Brother – It Is Murder

March 9, 2028


The United States Congress and the President last night engaged in their landmark 100th ritual Debt Ceiling-Raising Meltdown.

As always, the President entered last, amid catcalls and shouts of “YOU LIE!” The president appeared to receive these pleasantries in the spirit of the proceedings, cheerfully hurling imprecations and dire warnings of imminent destruction upon the heads of the attending representatives.

The vegetables were supplied for the occasion by various large agribusiness conglomerates, most of them Asian-dominated producers of genetically modified food-like substances.

The Singapore Square-Ship Tomato, developed by the government of that doughty island nation, once again proved most popular among the hurlers of the starboard Republican side, who favor it for both its aerodynamic qualities and the welts it predictably raises due to its sharp corners.

The southpaws of the Democrat side, as usual, stocked up on cannonball-sized heads of overripe lettuce, shipped by slow river barges around the Horn for optimum fermentational obnoxiousness.

The President wore an Armani suit and a red power tie, covered by a translucent 2-mil thickness garbage bag guaranteed to repel all but the heaviest artillery.

The First Lady’s ornamental helmet was the talk of the ceremony, and featured a pattern of sewn-together pink promissory note fragments in quadrillion-dollar denominations, mounted on strips of Kevlar.

The House chaplain, a Reformed Scientologist, gave the invocation at 11:59PM, the last possible minute, as stipulated by long-sanctified custom. (Until 2025, the invocation used to be given an hour before the deadline; this was done under the pretense that there was a possibility of compromise between the two sides, a pretense that was abandoned that year when both sides reached an agreement that they would sooner be flayed alive than commit actual government in partnership with the Nazi Stalinist America-Killers of the other side.)

Once the President made his ritual three requests for some show of bipartisanship, he withdrew slowly backwards from the parlor, shaking the dust, mud and detritus of the chamber off his rubber boots with each step.

Then the Congressional leaders of the two parties were ceremonially shoved toward the middle of the House floor, resisting all the way, meeting in the center and making a great pretense of disinfecting themselves the closer they got to the members of the other side.

At the moment the two globular clusters of drunken (non-)legislators were about to make contact, the two maximos jefes of the parties moved toward the front and approached each other warily, donning rubber gloves, and simultaneously pasted little Hitler mustaches on each other’s upper lips.

The gallery went wild at this climax of the proceedings, no matter how expected, and registered their intoxicated approval via a thunderous shower of vegetable matter that thudded onto the crania of the elected representatives of the glorious American people.

The Texas delegation as usual brandished their firearms and blasted gigantic holes through the roof of the hall, bringing large chunks of masonry down onto their heads, rendering several of them insensate, though regular attendees insisted that this was their normal state.

Creditors of the United States, as well as representatives of the latest bereft generation of young adults, none of whom have ever experienced paved roads, post-grade-school education, working sewerage, non-domination of the continent by Canada, or the legislative process, were as usual beaten back from the People’s Chamber by riot police outsourced from the Republic of Cuba.

The crowd dispersed by sunup amid tear gas provided gratis by the partners of Goldman-Citi-Bank of America.

And to think it will all happen again in just seven more weeks.

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