The Mice And The Town
Hey; There have been comments regarding a couple of things I have posted claiming that I appear to ‘get into it’ a little too much whenever I whack a mouse. Comments such as ‘mouse killer’ and ‘gangsta’ have been tossed in my direction and while they are technically correct I am finding this pro-mouse bias a little disturbing. It’s sort of like hearing a United Station right-wing political commentator mention that al-Qaeda is just a bunch of fun loving guys, or perhaps seeing archival footage of old Winnie Churchill praising Hitler as a jolly good fellow (here’s a bit of history: That bastard Hitler was a big fan of mice and supported mouse policies throughout his entire career. In his huge house at Berchtesgaden {near Obersaltzberg} he had what he called ‘die Mausenroom’, which was a room totally dedicated to mice and mice luxury. Granted this is all terrible information but one must remember that Hitler was a real jerk).
The following is a little folk tale about mice and their sneaky ways, and I hear that it is based on a true story!
The Mice And The Town
It had been an extremely difficult autumn for the orphans who lived at the Home For Exceptionally Cute And Precocious Orphans, and indeed for the entire town. The trouble had begun in September when the head of the religious order that had managed and staffed the orphanage, Primate Richard Halversham, had died in a mysterious knitting accident. Less than a week later there was an unexpected incident at the town bank, the Limbaugh Savings and Loan, whereby all financial records of the orphanage disappeared, including account records and proofs of power of attorney. Unfortunately nothing of this was discovered until mid-November, when the soon due land tax statements were sent out, and it was discovered that the orphanage was, apparently, flat broke.
As we all know, in these modern times the Government administered financial theocracies (using the IRS [USA], the Ministry of Finance [Canada], the International Institute of Money Worshipping Gonads {IIMWG} [International], the Federal Liberal Party [Canada], or the Republican Party [USA} as examples) manage all of their regular transactions with computers thereby completely eliminating the ridiculously quaint and old fashioned idea of personal service. Unfortunately in this case a pre-determinant program, which due to the incident at the Limbaugh Savings and Loan was unaware of the actual solvency of the orphanage, automatically issued a sale order for the orphanage property and all buildings due to non-payment of taxes. Notification was sent by registered post to the orphanage staff who couldn’t believe what they were reading.
The following morning two of the Nuns that managed the affairs as well as taught at the orphanage went to the bank to try to straighten things out. The bank manager, Mr. Rush O’Reilly, was sympathetic but unfortunately his hands were tied. The bank records showed no account in the orphanage’s name and in fact a provisional bid had already been received and accepted for the orphanage. He had no choice in the matter but unless the outstanding land taxes were paid the orphans would be tossed out and the property sold. Who had put the accepted bid on the property the Nuns wondered and while it may have been slightly (or even wholly) unethical the bank manager told them it had been Robert O Dent, a reclusive multi-millionaire from out of town.
The only bright side that the Nuns could see was that they did have two weeks to come up with the tax money and so they set to their mission with a will (as Nuns so often do). Several of the cuter orphans were set to work practicing a holiday play and the Nuns themselves spent every free moment baking pies and cookies and knitting up cool little crafty items that they could sell. The remaining orphans who were perhaps not quite so cute or precocious were given a bunch of ribbon, reeds, glitter glue and other stuff with which to create cunning Christmas ornaments. In short, everybody in the orphanage was working for their future and as they had the power of good and right behind them it was only ten days later that the Orphanage Holiday Pageant was presented to the town.
Everybody who attended, and that was most of the folks in town, really enjoyed the show (a non-denominational musical play guarantied not to offend anyone) and many a comment was passed on how cute and precocious the performing orphans had been. The donation pots were filled to overflowing with pennies and nickels and all the baked goods and craft items sold, for although the prices were a bit high nobody complained much because it was all for a good cause.
When all was said and done the orphanage had managed to raise over three thousand dollars. The Nuns and the orphans were ecstatic. Now everything would be just fine.
Early the morning following the pageant the same two Nuns showed up at the bank with all the money they had collected which had been rolled and folded by the adorably excited orphans. The manager of the bank welcomed them in and personally took charge of their tax payment. The money was handed over and duly counted, and then the bank manager said, “This is excellent. You are well on your way. There is only $130,819.60 due and you have three days to get it.”
The Nuns were in shock. Oddly enough they had had no idea that the total tax bill had been that high. Mind you that shock was nothing compared to the complete and utter astonishment they felt three days later when they and the orphans were unceremoniously tossed out into the snow, just in time for the Christmas season.
The new owner of the orphanage property, Mister Robert O Dent and the corporation he was CEO of, Cheezedammet Inc., rapidly turned the former orphanage into a state of the art luxury casino which was just chock full of all the latest devices for separating suckers from their money. Also, in an apparent effort to smooth over any rough feelings they even offered some of the Nuns (as well as some of the older orphans) employment in some of the new drinking establishments as exotic dancers or escorts (to their credit some of the Nuns turned this offer down).
With great fanfare the casino opened just before Christmas that year and in no time at all money was being pulled in hand over fist. It was all rosy at first with the townsfolk having a shiny new diversion to take their minds off the ugliness of real life (such as the sight of orphans selling their bodies so they could buy food to eat and ratty cardboard boxes to live in). However it wasn’t too long before an unforeseen situation arose.
Discretionary income soon began to dry up in the town as good money was thrown after more good money at the casino. Local businesses that depended on the Christmas season to carry them through the rest of the year began to suffer and then things took a real turn for the worst when the town manager drained the town accounts in one hugely wild weekend of Keno, scratch tickets and escorts. Sure, he lost his job but the damage was done. Here it was, early January, and the town was flat broke completely unable to pay it’s many employees. The municipal infrastructure quickly began to fall apart as more and more town employees refused to work unless paid. It wasn’t long before crime was rampant and the streets were clogged with piles of rotting garbage that nobody would pick up and deliver to the now unmanned landfill.
It was at this point that the mice began to move in. The slowly fermenting garbage provided food for the rodent invasion and the homeless orphans and Nuns, huddled shivering in doorways and abandoned businesses, provided warmth. It wasn’t long before the townsfolk were knee deep in mice, the business climate was in the toilet and civil unrest if not outright insurrection was just around the corner. Vibe-wise, it was ugly.
Now to the casual eye this would appear to be merely an extreme example of capitalism run riot. The truth however is quite a bit more disturbing than just being a tale of unbridled greed. The truth is an example of deviousness and subtlety that should shock and awe any and all who believe mice to be inoffensive little creatures as constantly presented by the traditional media rather than the little monsters that they actually are.
The truth is that Robert O Dent, the CEO of Cheezedammet Inc., is not as the popular press would have it a reclusive multi-millionaire who lives in all the fashionable capitals of the world. In fact Robert O Dent isn’t even human! He is actually (brace yourself) a mouse! R O Dent and his pawpicked cabal of mice who call themselves the Cheezedammet Posse took it upon themselves to trash a nice little town thereby creating the conditions of squalor and filth that mice so enjoy when they can’t manage to get into somebody’s nice house and ruin stuff.
Perhaps this is not a typical tale but we should all be aware that this sort of thing goes on all the time. Dig it.
Yours in vigilance; Humouroceros
The following is a little folk tale about mice and their sneaky ways, and I hear that it is based on a true story!
The Mice And The Town
It had been an extremely difficult autumn for the orphans who lived at the Home For Exceptionally Cute And Precocious Orphans, and indeed for the entire town. The trouble had begun in September when the head of the religious order that had managed and staffed the orphanage, Primate Richard Halversham, had died in a mysterious knitting accident. Less than a week later there was an unexpected incident at the town bank, the Limbaugh Savings and Loan, whereby all financial records of the orphanage disappeared, including account records and proofs of power of attorney. Unfortunately nothing of this was discovered until mid-November, when the soon due land tax statements were sent out, and it was discovered that the orphanage was, apparently, flat broke.
As we all know, in these modern times the Government administered financial theocracies (using the IRS [USA], the Ministry of Finance [Canada], the International Institute of Money Worshipping Gonads {IIMWG} [International], the Federal Liberal Party [Canada], or the Republican Party [USA} as examples) manage all of their regular transactions with computers thereby completely eliminating the ridiculously quaint and old fashioned idea of personal service. Unfortunately in this case a pre-determinant program, which due to the incident at the Limbaugh Savings and Loan was unaware of the actual solvency of the orphanage, automatically issued a sale order for the orphanage property and all buildings due to non-payment of taxes. Notification was sent by registered post to the orphanage staff who couldn’t believe what they were reading.
The following morning two of the Nuns that managed the affairs as well as taught at the orphanage went to the bank to try to straighten things out. The bank manager, Mr. Rush O’Reilly, was sympathetic but unfortunately his hands were tied. The bank records showed no account in the orphanage’s name and in fact a provisional bid had already been received and accepted for the orphanage. He had no choice in the matter but unless the outstanding land taxes were paid the orphans would be tossed out and the property sold. Who had put the accepted bid on the property the Nuns wondered and while it may have been slightly (or even wholly) unethical the bank manager told them it had been Robert O Dent, a reclusive multi-millionaire from out of town.
The only bright side that the Nuns could see was that they did have two weeks to come up with the tax money and so they set to their mission with a will (as Nuns so often do). Several of the cuter orphans were set to work practicing a holiday play and the Nuns themselves spent every free moment baking pies and cookies and knitting up cool little crafty items that they could sell. The remaining orphans who were perhaps not quite so cute or precocious were given a bunch of ribbon, reeds, glitter glue and other stuff with which to create cunning Christmas ornaments. In short, everybody in the orphanage was working for their future and as they had the power of good and right behind them it was only ten days later that the Orphanage Holiday Pageant was presented to the town.
Everybody who attended, and that was most of the folks in town, really enjoyed the show (a non-denominational musical play guarantied not to offend anyone) and many a comment was passed on how cute and precocious the performing orphans had been. The donation pots were filled to overflowing with pennies and nickels and all the baked goods and craft items sold, for although the prices were a bit high nobody complained much because it was all for a good cause.
When all was said and done the orphanage had managed to raise over three thousand dollars. The Nuns and the orphans were ecstatic. Now everything would be just fine.
Early the morning following the pageant the same two Nuns showed up at the bank with all the money they had collected which had been rolled and folded by the adorably excited orphans. The manager of the bank welcomed them in and personally took charge of their tax payment. The money was handed over and duly counted, and then the bank manager said, “This is excellent. You are well on your way. There is only $130,819.60 due and you have three days to get it.”
The Nuns were in shock. Oddly enough they had had no idea that the total tax bill had been that high. Mind you that shock was nothing compared to the complete and utter astonishment they felt three days later when they and the orphans were unceremoniously tossed out into the snow, just in time for the Christmas season.
The new owner of the orphanage property, Mister Robert O Dent and the corporation he was CEO of, Cheezedammet Inc., rapidly turned the former orphanage into a state of the art luxury casino which was just chock full of all the latest devices for separating suckers from their money. Also, in an apparent effort to smooth over any rough feelings they even offered some of the Nuns (as well as some of the older orphans) employment in some of the new drinking establishments as exotic dancers or escorts (to their credit some of the Nuns turned this offer down).
With great fanfare the casino opened just before Christmas that year and in no time at all money was being pulled in hand over fist. It was all rosy at first with the townsfolk having a shiny new diversion to take their minds off the ugliness of real life (such as the sight of orphans selling their bodies so they could buy food to eat and ratty cardboard boxes to live in). However it wasn’t too long before an unforeseen situation arose.
Discretionary income soon began to dry up in the town as good money was thrown after more good money at the casino. Local businesses that depended on the Christmas season to carry them through the rest of the year began to suffer and then things took a real turn for the worst when the town manager drained the town accounts in one hugely wild weekend of Keno, scratch tickets and escorts. Sure, he lost his job but the damage was done. Here it was, early January, and the town was flat broke completely unable to pay it’s many employees. The municipal infrastructure quickly began to fall apart as more and more town employees refused to work unless paid. It wasn’t long before crime was rampant and the streets were clogged with piles of rotting garbage that nobody would pick up and deliver to the now unmanned landfill.
It was at this point that the mice began to move in. The slowly fermenting garbage provided food for the rodent invasion and the homeless orphans and Nuns, huddled shivering in doorways and abandoned businesses, provided warmth. It wasn’t long before the townsfolk were knee deep in mice, the business climate was in the toilet and civil unrest if not outright insurrection was just around the corner. Vibe-wise, it was ugly.
Now to the casual eye this would appear to be merely an extreme example of capitalism run riot. The truth however is quite a bit more disturbing than just being a tale of unbridled greed. The truth is an example of deviousness and subtlety that should shock and awe any and all who believe mice to be inoffensive little creatures as constantly presented by the traditional media rather than the little monsters that they actually are.
The truth is that Robert O Dent, the CEO of Cheezedammet Inc., is not as the popular press would have it a reclusive multi-millionaire who lives in all the fashionable capitals of the world. In fact Robert O Dent isn’t even human! He is actually (brace yourself) a mouse! R O Dent and his pawpicked cabal of mice who call themselves the Cheezedammet Posse took it upon themselves to trash a nice little town thereby creating the conditions of squalor and filth that mice so enjoy when they can’t manage to get into somebody’s nice house and ruin stuff.
Perhaps this is not a typical tale but we should all be aware that this sort of thing goes on all the time. Dig it.
Yours in vigilance; Humouroceros
posted by humouroceros at 8:37 am
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