Good things come to those who predate

The Republican Party Stalwarts and Stooges convention met as always in their island redoubt. They were there to toast the remarkable success of their forty-year project. Champagne and cherries were popping! The long view has been a hallmark of the party’s strategy since the Reagan Revolution, when the social safety net was systematically stripped away from the poor and middle classes in favor of allowing everyone the hypothetical chance to win big in the new financial-sector casino. And just look at them now!

The masked man known only as “The Host” strode up to the microphone.

“Yes, boys, we grabbed the electorate by the upper middle class and squeezed, until now twenty-six people have almost all the money in the world, and the rest are either taking out payday loans in advance of their Social Security check or have been excreted into tents on the underpass. It’s a stunning achievement, really. Once we got the ball rolling in the direction of the advancement of the downtrodden rich, it only gained momentum.

“That’s the beauty of the long view, my friends,” he continued. “Meanwhile we’ve got the Democrats busy protecting minnows and deviants and putting out fires all day long…”

“Fires that you all set,” huffed an encroaching Democrat plant, dramatically sweeping aside a curtain of pearls, shortly before he and his cell phone were thrown in a lagoon.

“Now, now, boys. Pick the lad back up and set him upright. Let’s see what he has to say!”

The lad was reinstalled shortly. “What I say is,” he began, stripping seaweed off his shirt, “you go on and on about having the long view but you’ve tripled down on the fuels of the past and mortgaged the future of your children and every living thing on earth. You’re as short-sighted as you could possibly be.”

A general hubbub ensued over which party had the longer view until the encroacher was one small-penis joke away from being filibustered upside the head with a tiny fist.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” The Host reprimanded. “We’re all friends here. I just find it rich that we are being lectured about short-range thinking by a fellow who just spent all night on the Senate floor orating about not requiring transgendered members of Congress to pee in the shrubberies on the West Terrace. Talk about your trivial.”

“Hey,” complained Sarah McBride (TG - Delaware), entering the Tiki bar and smoothing her skirt. She sent a thumbs-up to her comrade.

“Well I wouldn’t have had to do it if you hadn’t passed the Bogus Bushes Belong In Bushes Bill to begin with. Speaking of trivial!”

“Hey,” complained Ms. McBride, hopping up and down in front of the ladies’ room.

“Point is, I’d do it all over again, because when all is said and done we must stand up for our principles!”

“Just so. And are you people standing up or sitting down? That’s what we want to know.” The Host waggled his eyebrows above his mask and the place erupted in guffaws.

“Just like a Republican to want to watch,” the interloper drawled before being re-lagooned.

The Host shook his head mournfully. “Well, well, so much unpleasantness. And yet more wealth was created under our plan than could have been dreamed of. And that is not the half of it. The foresight required to achieve this does not stop at the mere efficient extraction and total control of a dwindling resource. It promises to cement our achievement for eternity, by making elections obsolete.”

He strode to the center of the room.

“Yes, gentlemen, through our sustained efforts from the very first days of making fun of Al Gore, we have now succeeded in burning up the entire West Coast, where the Democrat votes live. You did that, people. Give yourself a nice round of applause. The Democrats were starting to get fired up,” he went on, chuckling, “so we fried them up.”

Laughter and cheers. The Host held up his hand.

“Of course it hasn’t been a perfect execution. We had to sacrifice the Republican votes in the Aryan Republic of Idaho, when my intern, may he rest in peace, had to tell the Big Guy the only faucet up north to turn on was in Canada, and all our forest-raking troops were busy in Iran. And then those fool ranchers near Boise started attacking the firefighters when they tried to do a back-burn on the land we made sure they could graze the hell out of. I’m sorry to say, nothing’s going to save that state. But it’s only two Representatives.”

Nods all around.

“And ditching the food inspectors was a good idea to start, but we need to get a little more precision on where we send the demon lettuce. We’re seeing some collateral damage in the Bible Belt.

“So drink up, boys, and stay alert, and we’ll all be stinking rich for the rest of our lives. And that’s all the future we need!”