Magnum PI & Dennis Marks Investigate Human Rights Abuses

Why didn't you pull your gun? -- Thomas Magnum... from the episode "Legacy from a Friend" (#3.18, 1983).

Dennis Marks hesitantly entered the dark alleyway behind the local burger joint. He was more than a little nervous, never having done something like this before. A man wearing a trench coat lit a cigarette, drawing Dennis' attention. Was this the man who had phoned him earlier, telling him his package was ready?

A while ago Dennis had decided it made sense to get a good one if you don't have one. A firearm, that is. He determined then he would acquire one at a gun show or from a private seller to legally avoid the roadblocks put in place to hassle innocent people. Then the authorities couldn't come for his weapon and steal it. Because they wouldn't know he had one.

Dennis ultimately decided to go the cautious route and purchase a gun from a private source. Someone might see him at a gun show and report his purchase to the Obama gun-grabbing gestapo.

"You the guy I spoke with earlier about a private sale?" Dennis inquired, approaching the man.

"You got my cash?" the man replied, taking a drag from his tube-shaped tobacco product.

"It's right here", Dennis answered, clumsily drawing a wad of bills out of his jacket pocket.

"Here is your item", the man whispered, producing a shiny gun from inside his coat.

Dennis turned the firearm over and over in his hands, mesmerized by how it sparkled in the moonlight. "It's gorgeous!" Dennis exclaimed, close to breaking down and weeping with joy.

"The serial number has been filed off, making it untraceable", the stranger revealed, shoving a box of ammo into Dennis' quivering hands. "These are hollow points. They're designed to rip through the standard bulletproof vest. Useful if some jackbooted agent of the State tries to steal your weapon".

"In violation of my due process and 2nd amendment rights, which I love", Dennis concurred.

"Well, I've got to be going", the man said, dropping his cancer stick and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot.

"Thank you, God", Dennis remarked as the man turned and left. "I will treasure this beauty for the rest of my life". Finally Dennis felt fully empowered to defend himself, which is a basic human right. Now he could finally stop worrying about the violent thugs who were coming to get him.

Frankly Dennis couldn't believe he had lasted so long without a gun, what with all the worthless poor people who wanted something for nothing. And would shoot him dead to get it. Mostly young Black thugs. They frightened Dennis immensely. They were worse than wild animals. Dennis knew this because he'd seen it on Fox News. A young Black thug stole cigarillos in a strong-arm robbery. The cop who confronted the violent felon was forced to gun him down when he charged, intending to (continue) violently assaulting him. It was obvious to Dennis that this thug was likely berserking, high on marijuana.

Because of this Dennis spent many nights pacing the floor, sick with worry. And checking and rechecking his locks. The incidents of Black thug violence were clearly on the rise. It was only a matter of time before they came for him. He knew then the time was right to acquire a firearm for his own protection. He was also afraid Vincent Vanderschmidt might try to kill him, but that was another matter.

In any case, now that Dennis had his gun he could defend himself against anyone who came for him. That night he placed the weapon under his pillow. After polishing and cleaning it until the nickel plating shown brilliantly.

"You are a beauty!" Dennis exclaimed, holding up the gun so he could admire it properly.

"Thank you", came a reply.

Huh?

"Who said that?!" Dennis screamed, looking about frantically. Was there an intruder in his domicile? Quickly Dennis reached for his box of ammo, his hands shaking in anticipation. Would tonight be the night he gunned down his first violent thug?

"Don't worry", the same voice said in a soothing tone. "It's me, your gun", Dennis' gun told him.

"A talking gun? I must have gone nuts", Dennis lamented.

"No way, you're one of the sanest people on the planet", Dennis' gun assured him. "Trust me concerning who the nut is according to guns".

"OK, I will", Dennis acquiesced. Then he went to bed, exhausted after a long week of very little sleep. "I'm going to place you under my pillow for safekeeping", Dennis told Magnum PI, which is what Dennis' weapon said it's name was.

Hours passed as Dennis slumbered.

"Wake up, Dennis!" Magnum shouted, rousting Dennis from his sleep.

Withdrawing his weapon from under his pillow Dennis drowsily asked, "what's the problem, Magnum?"

"I heard something. Possibly a home invader", Magnum explained.

Dennis looked around but saw nothing. The sun was up, however, so Dennis decided to rise from his bed and check his windows and locks for signs of intrusion. Then Dennis heard a knocking at the door, which meant someone was on his porch!

Dennis had many no trespassing signs posted, including several facing the road. Therefore anyone approaching his property had fair warning. Dennis flipped off the safety on Magnum and approached his front door.

"It's the mailman, I need your signature on a package", a voice on the other side of the door said.

An agent of one of the socialist agencies of the Federal Government (just one of the many socialist agencies/programs that should be abolished)? Dennis didn't buy it. Probably a ruse so that the jackbooted governmental enforcers could steal his newly acquired weapon. Perhaps the NSA had been listening in during his phone call? Not that it mattered. Dennis had the right to fire given the fact that his no trespassing signs gave intruders warning. This individual was violating that warning -- and on Dennis' property against his will.

"Shoot!" Magnum urged him. "Obama's agents are here to steal me!"

Dennis raised his gun and fired through the door. Then he blew across the barrel, as he had seen actors in action movies do. How cool.

Hearing a body thud, Dennis remarked, "smoked him". Smiling, Dennis proudly strode toward the door, eager to see the results of the first exercise of his basic human right. Opening the door Dennis noted a man dressed in a mailman's uniform lying on the ground, a large hole in his chest. The man, however, was not dead. Blood trickled out of his mouth as he gurgled and struggled to speak.

"Didn't you see the signs?!" Dennis screamed. "You are on my property unlawfully and I am therefore within my rights to shoot!" Dennis added, pointing Magnum at the man's head and firing a second time.

"Good job!" Magnum congratulated him.

"Indeed", Dennis agreed. "I defended my basic human rights good. Now to dispose of the body. Not because, as a law-abiding gun owner I did anything wrong, but because I wish to avoid harassment and hassle placed there by out-of-line legislators".



 swtd-277. polfi-26.  Analysis. Previous. Next.

That Massive Sucking Sound and Its Echo

Because murder is like anything you take to; It's a habit-forming need for more and more -- Lyrics from the song "Murder by Numbers" written by Sting and Andy Summers.

There wasn't anything that Brabender and Workman ever could have done to save Slade Leeds. They knew it and so, too, did Leeds. But being that the latter was a persistent bugger (not to mention one that was totally lacking in pride) and his protectorate malleable, damned if that sucker didn't seem to last for decades and decades. In fact, it's probably still going on!

"Sorry it has to end this way for you, my friend" William Hartenbaum remarked as Slade whined yet again. "You simply can NOT do this to a fellow Society man" a frantic and disbelieving Slade declared. But, after staring into William's eyes, it became apparent to him that Hartenbaum had made up his mind.

"Help me Brabender" he cried with tears in his eyes. "Help me Workman" Slade pleaded. But Slade's employees ignored him. William had had enough of this so he gagged his friend. Then, with great sadness he shoved the bound Slade into the wet concrete. Slade dropped approximately 10 feet into the open pit and landed with a wet thud in the concrete that would become the foundation for Vanderschmidt towers, a new luxury apartment complex being constructed by William's buddy Vincent Vanderschmidt (AKA Voltron).

A look of horror overcame Slade's face as he sunk into the hardening slurry that would soon be his rock solid tomb. Slade sunk slowly, the weight attached to his ankles dragging him down. But his suffering did not go on for that long, despite it likely seeming to last decades for the poor fellow! "I really hated to do that. Killing one of your best friends is a hard thing to do" William remarked.

"Stop, you can't do this, Dennis!" the one called Workman screamed after William and his accomplices had subdued the three men, bound their hands and feet, and then made it apparent they would soon join the dead body of Cliff Thesage in the freshly poured cement mixture. But why the hell was Workman addressing his pleas to Dennis?

"Nobody's going to save you now" Russ Teafeur, one of William's accomplices and a member of the four friend's murder club, growled. "Dennis will save us... and he knows why" Brabender squealed, shaking his head as Voltron attempted to gag him.

"Do you know what he's talking about, Dennis?" William queried the recent inductee into their murder club (an addition that made the trio a quartet). "Workman is talking about the evidence he has against me that will automatically be released if he should be killed or go missing" Dennis reluctantly informed the group.

"Evidence of what?" Voltron demanded, grabbing Dennis by his lapels and getting in his face. "Evidence of embezzlement by Brabender, Workman and myself from The Quarry" Dennis squawked. "I had no choice, after running up a large amount of debt in anticipation of my rich uncle kicking off. An uncle who then went into remission".

William remembered the conversation in which Dennis told him he'd be joining William, Voltron and Russ in the 1 percent when his uncle died from terminal brain cancer, leaving him everything in his will. "That's tough" an angry William replied. "But that does not entitle you to thieve from my best friend".

An intimidated Dennis started whimpering. "This means Brabender and Workman will keep their mouths shut about them walking in on us disposing of Thesage's body" Dennis explained desperately. "Surely it would be much more suspicious if they disappear as well" Dennis concluded, suddenly afraid that William might decide to murder him too.

"He has a point" Russ Teafeur interjected. "I guess that means they are malleable to not squealing to the cops" Voltron concluded, releasing Dennis from his grip. "Absolutely" Brabender enthusiastically agreed. "Especially given the fact that we were stealing from Mr. Leeds. The cops will likely conclude we were in on it" Workman added, assuming he had just been saved from joining Leeds in the concrete.

Just then there was a massive sucking sound as the squirming body of Slade Leeds finally disappeared beneath the surface of the pool of cement, rock and water. William turned and silently bid his friend adieu. "The Society has lost a valuable member", William ruefully observed. "And now Slade's wife Sassy is a widow" Hartenbaum added sorrowfully. "A shame, given what a good woman she is".

"But this was Slade's own fault. What the hell was he doing here?" William demanded, turning to face Brabender and Workman. But he was met with silence. "Come on, answer Mr. Hartenbaum's question" an angry Voltron demanded. "You do want to make it out of here alive, do you not, Workman", Voltron added as he drew a wicked looking dagger from his belt and approached the two bound captives.

"You're going to talk" Voltron growled, holding his sharp blade to the neck of a frightened Workman. "Or I'll slit you from ear to ear. I don't give a damn what you have on Dennis".

Video: The Police's "Murder By Numbers". Live in Oakland 9/10/1983.



Image: William Hartenbaum and Vincent Vanderschmidt observe the foundation for Vanderschmidt Tower being poured. "We will come back tonight after snatching up the traitors", William remarked. "We should get Dennis to assist us" Vincent said, agreeing with the plan.

 swtd-268. polfi-25.  Previous. Next.

The Unfortunate Tale Of A Mind That Raced To Idiocy

What makes stupidity really insufferable is that it is forever in action -- idiocy knows no rest -- Source of quote unknown.

Turning onto a dirt footpath, Doctor Edwin Meyers decided to cut through the park. He had just gotten a call from the secretary at his psychiatric practice (located on the premises of a local hospital), that his attentions were needed there as soon as possible. He had been on his lunch break at a nearby café, but that now had to be cut short. He finished his arugula-topped tofu burger just as he crossed the square in the middle of the park where a bubbling fountain spurted water several feet into the air before splashing back to earth in a tiled reflecting pool.

Another footpath and the good doctor would be just across the street from where he worked. He was about halfway there when a trench-coat-wearing bald headed man sporting a ponytail stepped out from behind a large bush. "Care to take a look" the man said, opening his coat to reveal his naked body. The doctor stopped short, not wanting to run into a nude man. "If you like what you see I would appreciate it if you could LIKE me on Facebook" the man said. "My name is Dennis Marks, by the way".

Edwin could not help but stare directly at the man's crotch, given the fact that what he saw there was a sight to behold. Or the lack of a sight to behold, as the case most certainly was. "I'd be willing to recommend a doctor that could help you with your condition" the doctor remarked, taking pity on the man. "Huh?" Dennis asked, oblivious to what condition the man he had just flashed might be referring. "What are you talking about? Are you not impressed by the sight of my huge wang?" he asked, pointing to his nether region.

"Hmmm... delusional too. Here, take my card and call me if you decide (as you should) that you need help" Doctor Myers counseled, handing Dennis his credentials printed on a small rectangular piece of card stock. Then, when the man simply stood there with a stupid look on his face, Doctor Meyers pushed past him and continued down the path. Soon he was back at the hospital. Crossing the street Meyers descended a staircase to his basement office. Entering the reception area Edwin's secretary immediately noticed him. "Lester Nation the 4th is waiting for you" she said, pointing toward the waiting area to the right.

Edwin turned and saw a young dark-haired man with a closely cropped beard. He was wearing a leather biker's jacket. The man, who had previously been sitting on the couch in the waiting area, stood and extended his hand. Shaking the hand of the junior Lester, Edwin greeted him. "Hello, Mr. Nation. I am the doctor you spoke with earlier this morning on the phone... in regards to your father".

"Yes, my father" the fourth Lester replied. "I don't understand how he ended up in the psychiatric ward". The younger Nation looked quite confused. "I will explain everything" the doctor assured him. "First, I see you have completed the insurance forms?". Edwin was referring to a stack of papers clipped to the clipboard Lester was holding. "Yes" Lester confirmed, handing the stack of papers to the doctor. "Good, good" Edwin replied, accepting the forms. "Now, will you not join me in my office where we can discuss this in private?". "Certainly" the still-confused 4th Lester Nation agreed.

In the office the doctor sat behind his desk and his guest Lester Nation the 4th seated himself in a chair facing Edwin. "I must regretfully inform you that your father has had a complete break with reality" Edwin somberly informed the junior Nation. "Surely you were aware of his split personality disorder?" "Yes" Lester4 admitted, "but dad was on medication for his condition, and doing quite well I might add".

Edwin took in what the son of the man he was treating said. "Hmmm. I don't know the reason, but your father has retreated completely into his alternate personality. Ever since the police delivered him to the hospital several days ago he has been insisting that his name isn't Lester Nation the 3rd, but an individual named Steve".

"It actually took us some time to locate you, as your father came to us without any identification on him. And, of course he kept saying his name was Steve. As for a last name, he added that other than Steve, he wanted to remain anonymous. Also, he kept talking about how proud he was about being a complete shithead on the blog of someone named Joe Kelly. That is how we finally discovered who your father actually is. One of the nurses hit upon the idea of searching on the name Joe Kelly, and some obscure blog called Truth 101 came up. I won't bore you with the details, but, suffice to say it was through that blog that we were able to discern your father's actual identity".

"This Steve seems to be quite a violent individual, so at this time I am not going to recommend releasing your father into your custody. He's back on his medications, but they don't seem to be having an effect" the doctor sadly informed Lester3's son. "Can I see him please?" Lester4 asked. "Of course. In fact, seeing his son might jolt him back into reality". Edwin stood and said, "I'll show you the way".

Edwin guided Lester4 to a padded room a short distance from his office. "Be aware that he may not recognize you" Edwin cautioned, opening the door. In front of them a wild-eyed gray-haired man was strapped to a gurney. "I must have access to the internet" the slobbering spittle-flecked man shouted when he saw the doctor. "It's my duty to call out the Anti-Semites and hate bloggers that have infested cyberspace" he added, this time whimpering.

Then, seeing Lester4 his eyes lit up. "Help me, please" the drooling maniac pleaded. "This crazy doctor thinks I'm some shithead named Lester Nation the 3rd. I know that guy and I can assure you that I am not him. Lester Nation is one of the anti-Semite hate bloggers it is my sworn duty to call out". Kneeling down next to the gurney, a concerned Lester Nation the 4th attempted to reach his demented father. "It's your son, dad. Your name is Lester Nation the 3rd".

"Aaaahhhh!!!" the restrained bug-eyed Lester/Steve screamed, spraying his son's face with salivia. "F*ck you, son of Lester!" he screeched, suddenly lunging toward his progeny. Opening his mouth wide Lester/Steve bit down hard on his son's neck, tearing out a huge chunk of flesh. Blood gushed freely from Lester4's shredded jugular. Seconds later Lester4 passed out due to blood loss. Edwin Meyers hit the panic button located on the wall near the door and a nurse responded.

Several minutes later an unconscious Lester4 was loaded onto a hospital gurney for transport to the hospital upstairs. "He's stable and should survive, but he'll need a transfusion" a nurse from the medical hospital above observed as they rolled the gurney down the hall to the elevator. The elevator doors shut and Edwin returned to the padded room where he found Lester/Steve still laughing manically. "Sedate the patient" an angry and annoyed Edwin instructed his assistant.

 swtd-208. polfi-24.  Previous. Next.

The First Rule Of Murder Club

Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club -- Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt). A quote from the 1996 film Fight Club.

"You must swear on your life that none of the secrets of the Murder Club will be revealed", a stern looking William Hartenbaum informed his friend Dennis Marks. "Screw that", Vincent Vanderschmit (AKA Voltron) objected. "If you breathe a word of this to anyone I'll personally cut off your ding-a-ling. You'll be like that Theon Greyjoy character on Game of Thrones".

"Don't worry guys" Dennis assured his friends. "I want to get my hands dirty. And if you let me there is no way I can squeal, as I'd be implicating myself". William wasn't sure he agreed with what Voltron said about cutting off privates, but he let it go, seeing as Voltron was their de facto leader.

Dennis was referring to the three friends' murder club. Normally the three members only went after worthless bums that wouldn't be missed, but their new target gave Dennis cause to think back to another unsolved disappearance. "Johnny MooMoo went missing almost two years ago now and nobody knows what became of him", Dennis remembered when William told him they were planning on going after Cliff Thesage.

"Voltron killed Johnny MooMoo and Russ and I helped dispose of the body", William confirmed. "We'll do the same to Cliff", a smirking Voltron said. "But that won't get rid of the shelter", Russ Teafeur disagreed, referring to the fact that Cliff Thesage was only a member of the committee that took over the day-to-day operations of Johnny MooMoo's homeless shelter after he vanished without a trace.

"No, but if we take out enough vagrants I think they'll get the message and stay away" William said, explaining his plan. "Offing Cliff isn't necessary to the plan at all. It's just something Voltron and I decided to do for fun. By the way, it's going to be me that kills him Dennis. You can do as many bums as you want, but Cliff is mine".

"Fine by me", Dennis agreed. "So long as I get to kill some worthless hobo with my bare hands, I'll be more than satisfied". "Well then, welcome to the club", Voltron said, slapping the new member heartily on the back. The four friends then went their separate ways, agreeing to meet up later that evening. "I'll bring the ski masks", William said as everyone departed. "The rest of you bring your usual weapons".

Later that evening the club members met up at their usual location, a secluded clearing in the woods on the property of Slade Leeds. Slade and William were both members of The Higher Ordered Person's Society, although Slade had no clue when it came to all the murdering William was engaged in.

"Our recent encounter with that Dervish degenerate gave me an idea", William said pulling an item out of a shopping bag and holding it up for everyone to see. "A taser" Voltron said, chuckling. "I heard about your encounter with that Liberal think tank scum", Voltron remarked, still laughing. "We had the last laugh", Dennis countered, clearly upset. "He may have tased Tony good, but now he's in the slammer". "Right", William agreed. "But Tony's partner Smurf Jones told me he was suspended after slamming Dervish's head into the ground during the arrest. Apparently, due to a prior concussion Dervish is now in a coma".

"G*d damn it!" an agitated Dennis complained. "I heard about that, and certainly hope it doesn't mean Dervish is going to get off". "Me neither", William agreed. "I heard the think tank Dervish works for is filing a lawsuit against Tannis Protection", William said, referring to the private security firm Tony Hawkins and Smurf Jones worked for (a private security firm given the contract To serve and Protect after the Emergency Financial Manager laid off all the city's police officers).

"It would be travesty if Dervish got rich on top of getting off", Dennis proclaimed. "On the other hand he may be a vegetable for the rest of his life, although I'd prefer he was sent away for a long time and a considerable amount of taking it up the ass", a worried William reasoned. "But enough of this discussion, now we must get on to why we are gathered here this evening".

"That is to initiate Dennis into the Murder Club", Voltron said, interrupting William. "I thought we were going to off that Cliff punk", Dennis confusedly chimed in. "Yes, we'll get to that, but first we need to pop your cherry. Voltron, Russ and I need to be sure you won't wuss out, so we'll ease you into it with a lower value kill", William advised his cohort. "I don't know if I appreciate the lack of confidence, but I'm still game" Dennis replied.

"OK then, it's agreed" a pleased William concluded. After that the four piled into William's pickup truck and they headed back to town. Pulling into a parking garage of a high-rise structure owned by Voltron they switched vehicles, departing minutes later in a nondescript white van with mirrored windows. Two blocks from the homeless shelter William eased over to the curb. "I'm going to park here and we'll wait while Volt picks our target", William instructed Dennis and Russ. "I'll call you using my disposable cell phone when I'm ready" Voltron said, exiting the vehicle and quickly walking away.

About 20 minutes later the call came. William answered his disposable cell. "Time to take out the trash", he heard Voltron say in his ear. "I'm headed back toward the van. OK, now I've turned right and am going east on Pacific", Voltron said, informing William that he was following a target. William started up the van and drove toward the shelter, turning east on Pacific as Voltron instructed.

"There he is", Russ whispered, spotting their hoodie-wearing friend. "I see him" William confirmed, slowing down the vehicle. Voltron looked back, saw the van and started walking faster, catching up to a disheveled looking woman, probably in her 30s. As William pulled up alongside the homeless woman Voltron quickly covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

The woman struggled for awhile before her eyelids fluttered and closed. Russ slid open the van's side door as Voltron scooped up the woman's limp body and stepped inside. Russ quickly slid the door shut and they sped off. "Chloroformed her", Russ said, answering the question Dennis was about to ask.

swtd-169. polfi-19.  Previous. Next.

The One Percent Beasts of Burden Who Carry Around the Dead Weight

...there are 47 percent... who are dependent upon government, who believe that they are victims, who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them, who believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing... That that's an entitlement. And the government should give it to them -- Mitt Romney (dob 3/12/1947) oblivious entitled plutocrat and losing 2012 Republican presidential candidate.

"Hey, buddy, what's going on?", Dennis Marks inquired, addressing his compatriot William Hartenbaum. "Where did the boss man go?", he added, referring to Slade Leeds, the owner of The Quarry, the posh eating establishment William was sitting in the bar area of. "He went in back to deal with a delivery", William responded. "By the way, Slade told me the reason our prank the other night failed is because you fu*ked up and Joe Truth got the drugged plate of food".

"Now hold on", Dennis protested. "I clearly indicated to the waiter which plate of food was to go to whom". "Well, Dervish got the wrong plate, which is why he wasn't out of it and why he was able to taze Tony", William explained. "Damn!" Dennis exclaimed, obviously upset. "No matter", William said, grinning. "Things seem to have worked out better than we were planning. Tony is pressing charges against Dervish for assault. After the envious collectivist is arrested he's going to end up serving a lengthy prison term".

"Hahahahah", Dennis chuckled. "Ironic that the state will end up caring for him. It would be more fitting if he was sent to a forced labor camp though, given how much he admires the regimes of Leftist dictators". "Indeed it would", William agreed. "Even so, he'll lose his freedom and his job".

"The guy works?" an incredulous Dennis queried. "Yea", William responded. "At some liberal think tank, I believe". "Figures", Dennis spat disgustedly.

"Anyway, on another subject I have some good news. I just received word that my rich uncle is going to die soon. This is the rich uncle who is leaving me everything in his will! I'm going to be joining you in the one percent very soon", Dennis revealed, smiling broadly. "The as*hole has terminal brain cancer or something. It looks like all my hard work sucking up to the doofus is on the verge of paying off".

"Bad news, you'll soon be paying the same tax rate as me", William replied. "Yea, well, it's a smallish price to pay", Dennis countered. "I'd be willing to pay a little more for a strong national defense, but what really tees me off is how the one percent are like beasts of burden forced to carry around the dead weight".

"You got that right", William agreed. "Which is why must continually oppose the liberal fascists like Dervish who want us to pay more and more to support society's losers". "That guy disgusts me", Dennis agreed. "Instead of sending him to prison he should be deported to North Vietnam, Cuba or some other Bernie Sanders paradise. That way he could experience a socialist utopia that already exists, instead of attempting to transform the United States into one, like his hero Barack Obama wants to".

"Yes, the president who lies about the wealthy not paying their fair share", William agreed, frowning. "It's a shame you haven't received your inheritance already", William lamented. "Mark and I are going to be holding a dinner tomorrow night during which we will be welcoming a half dozen or so new members to Higher Ordered Persons Society".

Dennis looked dejected. "Couldn't you spot me the membership fee?", he begged. "Sorry, but that kind of special treatment isn't permitted. What if your uncle hangs in there for longer than you are expecting and you don't end up joining the one percent for some time? Even though we are friends the Society does have standards", William reminded his like-minded cohort.

"Well, that is disappointing", Dennis sighed. "I do understand however. What I do not understand is why you've invited Joe Truth to join. He is nowhere near as moderate as either of us". "How did you know Joe was invited?", William queried his friend. "I ran into him outside as he was leaving. I just got here for the evening shift", Dennis explained. "Don't worry about it", William assured his pal. "We never invite the lesser members to any strategy meetings, those are only for those in the inner circle. And I wouldn't be telling you this unless you were inner circle material".

"OK, I got it. You're playing him for a sucker again", Dennis correctly concluded, cracking a smile. "Absolutely", William confirmed. "I'm also close to closing a deal with Joe to take a large portion of the profits from a business venture he's planning. That is why he was here, we were discussing business". Dennis looked dejected again. "It must be sweet to be part of the investor class".

"Yes it is", William acknowledged. "We get to screw everyone from the lowly worker to those who actually come up with the ideas. And of course the consumer. It takes some of the sting out of our serving as beasts of burden in supporting the sluggards and parasites who live off the state".

"And, before you object", William added, reading his buddy's mind, "the screwing is in the mind of the Liberals only. As you and I both know there is no screwing when a deal is negotiated fairly". "You're right, I WAS about to object", Dennis confirmed. "Deals negotiated fairly being referred to as screwing is the kind of divisive rhetoric envious fools like Dervish use".

"I am going to screw Joe Truth, However", William revealed. "I inserted language in our contract that gives me control of the patent on his Big Boob Headphones, which I'm sure I can get him to sign without consulting a lawyer". With that pronouncement both William and Dennis laughed heartily.

 swtd-139. polfi-17.  Previous. Next.

Violently Nuts Liberal Wanted by Fuzz for Assault

Keep violence in the mind where it belongs -- Brian Aldiss (dob 8/18/1925) an English writer and anthologies editor, best known for science fiction novels and short stories.

"I never took you for a jingoistic racist", William Hartenbaum said, addressing his friend Joe Truth. Both were sitting on stools in the bar area of The Quarry, a posh restaurant on the outskirts of town. William took a sip of his white wine, and then one more, emptying the glass. "I'll have another", William instructed the bartender.

"I don't follow", a clearly confused Joe responded. "You just told me you were strongly leaning toward manufacturing your Big Boob Headphones in the United States using union labor", William reminded his friend.

"Yes", Joe acknowledged. "These would be high-end headphones manufactured with pride in the US. It would be a selling point. The extra labor costs would be offset by lower shipping expenses, as they wouldn't have to be imported from a foreign country. And, most importantly, don't forget the Big Boobs angle. This is how I'm going to get the male consumer to pay a premium. The profit margin will be high enough to easily absorb the extra cost of union labor".

"That is the reasoning I was referring to as jingoistic", William explained. "Opposition to sending our chimpanzee jobs overseas is based in a racist bigotry against foreign people. Demonizing them because they are capable of working more efficiently than Americans. Why overpay lazy American workers when profits can be maximized by using less expensive foreign labor?".

"But isn't it racist to suggest foreign workers should get our -- as you called them -- chimpanzee jobs?", Truth countered. "Not at all", William deflected, dodging his obviously bigoted description of assembly work with a derogatory term and a non-answer. "In any case, I won't invest in your headphones if you insist on using union or US labor. I can't abide stealing profit from investors by overpaying labor me buck", William warned.

"You may be right", Joe agreed. "If I want to be a proper greedy capitalist pig outsourcing production is the route I may have to go", Joe reasoned. "Let's, for the sake of argument, suppose I go with foreign labor. How much would you be willing to invest?", he asked. William smiled, satisfied that Joe was coming around to his way of thinking. "How about 5 million to start, for which I'd only ask you to split the profits 50-50 with me", William suggested.

After thinking it over for a while, Joe said, "there are a few other potential investors I want to speak with first, but your offer leads the pack so far. Now, on another topic, I'm sorry that my attempt to broker a peace between you and Dervish failed. He was here at The Quarry last night, but left as soon as he learned that I wanted you and him to sit down and work out your differences".

"Actually I ran into him in the parking lot", William revealed. "Now get this, my friend Tony Hawkins was with me, and when I asked Dervish to come back inside and talk, he assaulted Tony with a stun gun! And Tony did nothing to provoke such a brutal attack. I called an ambulance and rode with Tony to the hospital where he got checked out. Luckily he's OK, but your Liberal buddy Dervish is in a LOT of trouble. Tony works for the police, and assaulting an officer of the law is a serious crime. Tony's partner Smurf Jones told me that Dervish is going to be arrested and charged".

"Wow. I guess Dervish is even more nuts than I knew. I thought he was harmless; I had no idea he was VIOLENTLY nuts", an astonished Joe replied. "For Christ!" William exclaimed. "Dervish is a violent paranoid. But, although he may very well be insane, he's going to jail, not to a mental hospital".

Just then the door to the back room behind the bar opened and Slade Leeds, The Quarry's owner, walked in. "Are you two discussing someone named Dervish?" he asked resting the palms of his hands on the bar. "I got a call from an attorney this morning informing me that I was being sued. Something about one of my chefs doing inappropriate things to Dervish's dinner and Dervish being assaulted in the parking lot by that same chef along with some of his friends, including YOU, William".

"This is what I meant when I called Dervish paranoid", responded William. "I was only trying to talk to the guy, and he violently attacked my friend Tony. No need to worry about being sued, Slade. Dervish is going to be arrested later today, as he is the one who did the attacking. And, not only that, but the person he assaulted is a police officer!". "That is reassuring", Slade responded. "By the way, the lawyer said the chef was Dennis Marks. Isn't he a friend of yours William?".

"Yeah, I know the guy", William said. "And, yes, he was outside taking a smoke break. We were speaking when I noticed Dervish and approached him, but Dennis went back inside before the altercation", William dishonestly recounted. "So, I take it that this Dervish fellow fabricated the entire incident", Slade reasoned. "Just about", William affirmed. "There was an encounter, but Dervish is lying about everything else".

"Awesome", Slade sighed, obviously relieved. "Not that I was worried. I knew my good friend William would never be involved in such a thing. Think you can stick about for awhile? My lawyer should be here soon and I want him to hear what really happened direct from the source". William nodded his head, answering, "sure thing".

"You have to be careful when serving the public. You never know what kind of crazy will walk through your doors", Slade declared. "I'm going to have some cameras installed in both the front and rear parking lots ASAP. That way nothing like this will ever happen again. Anyway, I thought it was your word against his, but seeing as it's your word AND the word of a law enforcement officer against his, I can't see this lawsuit going anywhere". "Absolutely", William replied. "That clown Dervish is going to be sorry he messed with us".

"What did Dervish say the chef did to his meal?" a previously silent Joe Truth asked. "He says it was drugged, but that the waiter mixed up the plates and you got the one that contained a sedative", Slade replied. "I did fall asleep after my meal", a befuddled Joe remarked.

"A-ha", William pronounced, feigning shock. "Clearly that means this was a set-up from the get go. Dervish must have slipped the sedative into your drink while you weren't looking", William pretended to deduce. "Sadly, I think you may be right", a gullible Joe Truth lamented.

 swtd-132. polfi-16.  Previous. Next.

The Consequences of Bad Ambassadoring

Everybody, sooner or later, sits down to a banquet of consequences -- Robert Louis Stevenson (11/13/1850 to 12/3/1894) a Scottish novelist, poet, essayist, and travel writer. His most famous works are Treasure Island, Kidnapped, and Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

As I dashed though the front door of The Quarry, I fumbled for my keys, wanting to unlock my car and get on the road as quickly as possible. I had just left a dinner meeting with a colleague who was convinced he could broker a peace between me and a bitter enemy, a guy Joe Truth (the colleague) insisted was a closet liberal.

Joe told me he wanted to apologize for calling me frigging nuts, but it was just a ruse to get me to meet with William Hartenbaum, a d-bag I wanted to avoid at all costs. Which is why I ran out of there as soon as Truth revealed his deception but before Hartenbaum showed his ugly mug.

Making it to the parking lot, I saw my vehicle and extended my arm, pointing the controller at it to unlock the doors. I had almost made it to my car, which was quite a distance due to the Quarry being packed, when someone popped up from behind my Ford Focus. What the hell is going on, I thought? Suddenly a muscular arm wrapped around my neck, and before I knew it I was in a secure chokehold.

"Recognize my voice, a**hole?" the man standing behind my car shouted. It was Dennis Marks, a dirtbag I had filed a restraining order against due to him calling my home hundreds of times a day to swear at me and threaten my life - because he harbored a grudge after I left some disagreeable comments on his blog (comments he lied about on the blog of his buddy William, insisting I was the one who swore).

"Hold still or I'll snap your neck", the person who had me in the chokehold barked. I recognized his voice as belonging to Tony Hawkins, an individual I'd had a previous bad encounter with.

I heard a car door open nearby and a few seconds later William Hartenbaum and I were face to face. "Glad you decided to meet with Joe Truth", Hartenbaum sneered. "Yes, I convinced that dumbass to trick you into showing up so we could ambush you". After addressing me, William turned to Dennis Marks and asked, "Why is he struggling so much, didn't you inject his steak with the syringe I gave you? He should be unconscious by now".

"Yes, I injected it, AFTER giving it a good rubdown with my dick", Dennis replied. "I hope you enjoyed my special sauce", Marks laughed, his comment directed at me. "And I was careful so none of the other chefs or boss Leeds saw", Marks added, his comment now directed at Hartenbaum. "By the way, I still don't understand why your buddy Slade isn't a party to our little practical joke".

"I explained that to you already", William shot back. "No way I was involving The Quarry's owner in our hijinks. He'd have nixed assaulting a customer, even if that customer is a worthless little bastard like Dervish. Besides, Slade isn't nearly as moderate as we are. I suspect he may be kicked out of the Higher-Ordered Person's Society any day".

Despite Marks' and Hartenbaum's conversation about drugging me, I didn't feel drowsy at all. However, deciding some subterfuge might work in my favor given the circumstances, I went limp and pretended to fall asleep. "I think the sedatives just kicked in", Tony Hawkins observed. "OK. let's get him into his trunk", William directed. "Where are his keys?"

It was then that Hawkins released me from the choke hold, although he still had one arm wrapped around my waist. Sensing my opportunity had arrived, I removed the taser from the inside breast pocket of my suit jacket, jammed the contact points down on Hawkins' arm, and pressed the button. Hawkins immediately fell to the ground, his body twitching as 4.5 million volts coursed though his body. I retrieved my keys from where I had dropped them whilst attempting to free myself from Hawkins' grasp, pushed the button to relock my car, then turned and sprinted back to the restaurant.

"Get him!" a surprised Hartenbaum yelled. I'd like to have stuck around and tased the rest of my assaulters but decided not to take any chances. It had been months since the post-traumatic vertigo I suffered from as a result of a pistol-whipping administered by Tony Hawkins had disappeared, but I did not want to risk another beatdown. Two-on-one were not favorable odds. Plus I didn't know if Hartenbaum or Marks had any weapons on them.

Back inside the Quarry, I returned to the table where I had just dined with Joe Truth. Sitting down I noticed Joe was resting his head on top of his folded arms, fast asleep. Did our waiter mix up the plates and give Joe the steak intended for me? I shook him violently, but still he slumbered. Fantastic, I thought, the urge to barf that had come over me as soon as Marks described what he had done to my steak passed. Seeing as it was Truth who was unconscious, it must mean he (and not I) ate the meat Marks had given such special attention to. I guess there are consequences for bad ambassadoring.

Using my cell phone I called my assistant Janeane Garner and asked if she could pick me up. I didn't want to return to the parking lot if my adversaries were there waiting for me. Also, I didn't bother calling the police, as our city didn't have any -- not since the Emergency Financial Manager replaced them with a private security firm (a firm Tony Hawkins worked for).

After hearing of my predicament, Janeane agreed to come get me right away. She drove up to the back entrance and opened her car door. Seeing Janeane, I exited with a crowd of people leaving and returning to their cars in the rear parking lot. Sliding in the backseat I found another passenger there. It was Rusty Farber, the head of security at the Progressive Ideology Foundation.

"Don't worry, Mr. Dervish. I'm here to protect you", Rusty assured me. "Let's drive around to the front and check on your car". Janeane, who was driving, followed Rusty's directions and circled the establishment. I was relieved to see my car undamaged. I had worried Hartenbaum and Marks may have vandalized it. They probably did not due to their buddy Slade Leeds owning The Quarry (and not wanting his establishment to be named in an insurance claim).

Rusty drew his stun gun and covered me as I returned to my vehicle, then escorted me home. We didn't see Hartenbaum or Marks again that night, but I knew this wasn't the end of our feud. They were, most likely, plotting revenge. I'm sure Joe Truth, who I had left asleep at a table inside the Quarry, was fine.

I did not intend on letting him know what had happened, or that Hartenbaum thought he was a dumbass though. I very much doubted he would believe me, given the fact he still thought Hartenbaum was a Lefty, even with a mountain of evidence to the contrary.

 swtd-127. polfi-14.  Previous. Next.