The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
    Richard Day's picture

    CHAUCER: THE DEATH PANELS

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    THE LADY SINGS THE BLUES!

    The feast was  proceeding along, swimmingly as the otters say.

    Lady Michele would be the last to speak at the feast. The Man of Steele noted to his companion the yeoman that the lady was carrying a mighty wagon behind her as she rose to the occasion to tell her tales of woe and woebegone. 

    I would like to tell you all a story; a tragic story of the culmination of factors that have led us into this totalitarian regime. This is the story of the Great Moor who overtook this nation by storm after main stream media rebuked that sacred monarch of old King George II and led us into Armageddon; head first into Armageddon. We had all been warned of this Saracen who hales from Chicago; land of the political machines.

    But of all the stories to be told here, none is as tragic as the realities of the Death Panels.

    Once upon a time grandma was feeling rather low, and I mean to say lower than most of her days. She was not sure why. Most of her days were spent hoping against hope that her innerts would empty themselves properly inside the stool and that baseball would be broadcast that day upon her 31 incher.

    She was now down cast and distraught and felt as if Satan himself had entered her body unannounced. She became arthritic and rheumatic and turretic and dietetic and catatonic. She became forlorn, distorn, and rip torn. She was nauseating, pancreating, levitating and regurgitating. She began to have seizures, apertures, manicures and tantrums.

    It was a very sad scene to be sure. The ambulance came to her abode and took her to hospital with only her purse to accompany them.

    Meanwhile back in DC THE PANEL was alerted to the innerts of this Grandma along with her other conditions and the PANEL was forced to act.

    In this grand conference room was seen the MIGHTY TEN. They marched toward the great round table arrayed in all sorts of foreign costumes. Three had towels on their heads like the grand Poobahs of old. Three of them had head sets that looked liked Zorro and these three spoke in strange tongues indeed. Two women were wearing veils with hoods covering their hair and began singing in tongues...lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala. One looked like Roy Rogers with six guns and holsters and a cowboy hat. He was singing Don't Fence Me In.

    After a great orchestra began playing Wagner, the MIGHTY MOOR waltzed in dressed in long black robes.

    WE WILL HAVE ORDER, the Moor remarked.

    All took their seats.

    Take out your pc's and turn to pages 244-245 of the great hall of records and center your attention upon citizen number 265489-8. This white sickly old female is about to leave this veil of tears and open up another slot. But before the final decision is made, grandma must be properly examined...

    After surmising her station in life and her place upon the LIST of all those who needed help she was seen by her

    Oncologist

    Psychiatrist

    Neurologist

    Eye, ears and throatist

    Along with her

     

    Internalist

    Externalist

    Epidemiologist

    And even her insurancologist

    All to no avail.

    Woe is me, she cried. Alas and alack and fuck all this. (She was having one of those episodes of Turrets, sorry for that but the quotes must be exact)

    (Back to THE PANEL)

    We cannot spend more than $6,324.68 on this subject master, remarked Roy Rogers. We are perilously close to THE LIMIT.

    $6120.14. IT IS NOW THE TIME FOR ACTION TO BE TAKEN!!! These words spoken by THE MOOR. ....

    After a couple of days following visits from those who loved and cared for her the MOOR appeared in the foray and glided into Grandma's room.

    I am in such pain and feel such doom the ancient lady remarked.

    Take two of these and see me in the morning if not in your dreams, the mysterious visitor remarked. The MOOR took two blue pills from his hand and directed that she take them with the juice he had handed her.

    I WILL NOT DO AS THOU SAYEST. I AM NOT A NUMBER, I AM A HUMAN BEING. FUCK YOU (Some more Turrets, sorry)

    Just then two more moors mysteriously appeared and didst hold the lassie down as THE MOOR shoved the two pellets down her gullet.

    The grand dame was never heard from again.

    Folks this is what is happening right now, right now in this fine land:

    In Punksatony, Abalony, Tuscany as well as Upper Saxony too... and

    In Minnesota, South Dakota, and North Dakota too; the deal panels are burying our mistakes. Human beings are missing all over this great country.

    The deaths are mounting as we now begin counting the victims of the new health rules.

    God bless all of you and God Bless Certain Americans.

    There were great hoots and hollers and claps and obscenities galore.

    After the feast had ended and our pilgrims wrapped up with their feigned farewells for the night, strange meetings were held in airport stalls and such. Following much hub bub and confusion the train began the next morn. They set upon the 30 month sojourn; some in carts, some upon great steeds and some on asses; though well arrayed asses at that.

    A song, a song must begin our journey, cried out Steel and Cronyn all at once.

    Mitthew reached into his back pack, and finding his lyre began to strum and sing:


    I'd like to tell ya'll a story about a governess
    An ill read whore, born of trailer trash,
    Then one day McCain  picks her from a pool,
    And she ended up arunnin with that decorated fool..

    As V.P. that is, second on the ticket.

    Well first thing ya know Sarah's a millionaire.

    Kinfolk say hey, move away from here

    Said the 48 is the place ya oughta be

    And she bundles up her repub jet and lands in infamy

     

    The Hill, that is.
    Lobbyists, fools, extortionists, pollsters...

    The Alaskan Hillbillies!

    Well now its time to say good-bye to Sarah and her kin.

    And they would like to thank you folks fer kindly droppin in.
    You're all invited back again to bagger royalty
    To have a heapin helpin of her bull philosophy.

    Manure that is. Love that smell. Put yer nose deep down in that!!!

    Y'all shoot real ammo now, y'hear? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZp2JcmUU6o

    A great joy was felt among the retinue and soon there was applause and great rejoicing.

    WHAT A WAY TO BEGIN THE JOURNEY!! HA

     

    (Oh and a special congratulations to Bob Shieffer of CBS News, just received his fifth case of Smuckers today!!! 105 and still goin strong!!!)