The Know Nothing Party
A Call to Order
“Call to order!”
A firearm was discharged inside the chamber.
“Thank you, Senator Stephens.” The Majority Leader peered over his owl-frame glasses at the proposed legislation. “Now, regarding the amendment currently on the floor, we have a party delegate prepared to whip final votes. Mr. Selleck, you have the gavel.”
The appointed AM-MEX lobbyist took his position behind the mic and began to bark.
“I’ve got two billion, two billion here, any Senator willing to take two billion, yes ma’am, the gentlelady from Louisiana says yes to two billion, how about a billion and a half anybody want a billion and a half, going begging, yes sir looks like we have Hawaii for a billion and a half, nine figures now, can any of you poor mouths be bought for nine figures, I’m looking at you South Dakota…”
The auctioneer procured the required bloc of votes in less than two minutes.
Cut to correspondent Pedro Wang O’Brien. He was reporting amidst a peculiar kind of pandemonium. Two random lobbyists made out behind him like it was V-J Day. The son of Senator Stephens raced around the room with lit sparklers while his father laughed. Members of the neocon and neo-Nazi factions were fist fighting for white supremacy.
The ongoing fracas inadvertently forced a couple of Congressional pages into the foreground. A lack of familiarity with broadcast protocol caused them to bump Pedro’s pixelated hologram during the live shot. It briefly broke the illusion for the viewers watching from home.
“There you have it, Chuck. Another Constitutional amendment passed by unanimous consent of the majority. The Fair Death Collection Practices Act is officially codified law. Pecuniary punishment by purge is now permitted. Debtors’ prisons have no more room at the inn. It’s the problem that put us here in the first place. We obviously expect credit kills and extrajudicial debt sentences to ramp up over the coming hours. As you can see, the loan shark lobby is in full-on celebration mode at the moment.”
The camera whip-panned to several senators high-fiving the nation’s creditors between coke lines. Senator Cronyn exited the cloakroom behind them with a male escort in tow. Both men gave off sheepish grins when they realized CNN caught them in the act. Pastor Matt ran a megachurch in Missouri before he paid the required billion to become Senator. Sex scandals were nothing new for the Cronyns. His wife and nine children were used to the notifications.
Pedro’s peerless reporting couldn’t capture the ongoing progressive colloquy. Several less enthused senators were huddled near the lobby entrance debating next steps. Minority Leader Sheila Ambrose took a beat to berate one of her less attentive brethren.
“What are you doing, Dale?”
His eyes were glued to the floating slab of pixels in his palm. “I’m looking up flights to non-extradition countries.” He wasn’t kidding.
“Debt is inherited in the event of death or disappearance,” Sheila reminded him. “Your wife and children will be stuck footing the bill.”
That didn’t dissuade Senator Simmons in the slightest.
Sheila realized leaving another party with his plight was the whole point.
Given their shared sexual history, she felt a sudden urge to shower.
“We could petition for death forgiveness,” Senator Timmons (D-TN) volunteered. The naïve newbie was only two years into his first term. His suggestion caused the surrounding senators to snicker and snort.
“Good luck with that, Greg.” Dale’s eyes stayed on target while he took Timmons to task. “That’s never being brought before committee. Expanding the margin is more important than your murder.”
The Majority Leader made another announcement from behind the lectern.
“A second motion has been brought to the floor by the junior senator from Maine.”
Kaylyn Haggerty inherited the seat from her father.
It was a Sweet Sixteen present.
Eliminating the filibuster prior to retirement was his other parting gift to the populace.
His freshly unfettered daughter stomped on her desk and screamed. Amended protocol required that the nepo baby hold an UNO Wild Card aloft. It had been burning a hole in her pocket for the past month. “I hereby demand an immediate government shutdown until all the deadbeat debtors have been formally identified and purged from this body. Which one of you brave patriots will second my motion?”
Senator Stephens was simply out of Scotch. “What the hell—aye!”
A bang of the gavel rendered it official. “The ayes have it. The United States government is officially shut down for the next sixty days pursuant to UNO power.”
The senator from Maine was too busy taking a peace sign selfie to celebrate. Her hologram was beaming into millions of living rooms throughout the Blue Zone.
“Hey, everybody! Shout out to all my loyal constituents in the 2-O-7. The bangers back in Bangor. All my Portland people. If Uncle Sam wants to keep pumping synthetic lobster farming subsidies for the Canadian States, so be it. Guess it was time to show these punks we’re not puffin around. If you’re looking to be a part of the Generation Why Revolution, sync into my Rif-Raf stream channel right now and make a max contribution to my political action committee. We have neural-swipers standing by 24-7 to assist you. GWR accepts both real and anticipated lifetime earnings…”
* You may (or may not) be wondering—where’s the rest of it? And the answer is, there is no rest of it, or at least there probably won’t ever be, because I realized whatever farce I write about the future of American politics, it will be quickly overruled by current events that will make my predictions look quaint. I’ll have to keep outpacing myself with absurdity and by page fifty it will have grown tiresome for both the reader & writer. But Michael Chabon did this interesting thing where he started posting abandonments/petering-outs/fine starts that went nowhere, and I have a plethora of those, so maybe I’ll start sharing them occasionally when I know they’re not going to amount to anything.*