Election Eve at the Billionaire Boys Club

 Have a chuckle with another little snippet of MeanMesa's dark fiction...


Somehow, our narrator had managed to be invited to witness the election eve meeting where some of the richest neo-cons would be celebrating the Republican victory in the mid term election.  The junior reporter asked his "insider friend" if he should dress to the hilt for the Election Eve Gala at the Billionaires Boys Club. 

An Evening at the Billionaires Boys Club ( image source )

Something of a blow hard, his friend, Mr. Toxin V. Cash, answered in an unusual Southern drawl, quite different from his normal speech.  Clearly, he had already modified his Connecticut accent to better fit in with the crowd.

Cash bellowed, "Naw, in fact it'd be better t' dress kinda lahk a hobo.  Them folks at th' meetin' git off lookin' better then thu rabble.  You'd do well, boy, t' jes 'member yer place, keep yer little noggin face down n' act real humbul.  Jes 'member thet you gonna be actin' lahk mah food taster, boy.  Thet theres th' only way Ah kin get yew in..."

"There gonna be sum otha' low class people theah, 'n yew just gotta kind'a dissapeer in thu crowd.  Meantimes, jes lay low.  Ah'll pik yew up et 8 in mah limo."

Hearing the low, powerful rumble of an idling V-8 and smelling the unmistakable odor of sulphur billowing from the car's exhaust, the reporter, now dressed in a shabby, ill fitted Sears suit, glanced both ways as he hurried from his office to meet the gigantic Cadillac double parked at the front door.  Inside, his contact was still blubbering about the high class nature of the elites they would be encountering at the gala.

"T'nite's gonna be reports n' th' 'wards ceremony.  Each of them law firms n' public relations compnies we hahred gonna get reevyouwed bah the club officers.  It'll be reel intrestin 'cause they's goin' over all th' stuff they dun to win th' 'lection n'all."

"Natcherly, we's all hopin' thet once them Democrats is out of th' way, we kin all start rakin' in th' bucks agin."

The junior reporter, checking his wire, very casually tapped the microphone on the recorder hidden under his belt.  "You mean that they will be able to really get their businesses all fired up again, right?"

Burping loudly, the billionaire across the seat explained, "Well, there's thet, but lots o' mah frenz make good money cheatin' on taxes and govment contrax, too.  Jes wait 'till yew hear them contract'r reports, 'n yew'll unnerstan everthin'."

He had just finished when the Cadillac arrived at the outer gate of the "club house."  What appeared to be the New Jersey National Guard was standing post.  The limousine sailed through the open gate as even more soldiers inside popped to attention, saluting.  The curving drive stretch out for another mile through carefully tended trees and shrubs.  The lights of the mansion finally broke through the evening darkness, still on the horizon.

As the car drew closer, the reporter could see a valet lot with a string of every sort of luxury car in a long line.  There were Bentleys, Rolls, Benzes and others he couldn't even recognize.  Beyond the mansion itself,  dozens of private helicopters hovered in a long line, waiting to land.  Counting the choppers, there were at least half a billion dollars worth of vehicles lining up in the outer lots.

The door man recognized Cash instantly.  "This way, please sir.  Dinner is to be served in a few minutes."

Cash thrust a hundred dollar bill into the man's hand, storming on into the mansion's atrium.  The disguised reporter hurried to follow.  Inside, the billionaire was met with boisterous, yet suspiciously contrived, greetings from the other billionaires lounging about.  The shabby reporter seemed to have become invisible.

The dining arrangement explained Mr. Cash's choice of "taster" as the least conspicuous choice to conceal his guest.  The main table, elevated in the center of the great hall, was what one would expect for an incredibly expensive meal, but just behind each seat, a small table and stool had been placed for each guest's taster.  Standing nervously behind the taster tables, a horde of security thugs fidgeted as they glared at the billionaires sitting next to their employers.


The "tasting" tasks began at once.

A waiter appeared with Mr. Cash's pre-dinner cocktail, a room temperature martini.  However, instead of serving Mr. Cash, the aperitif was deposited on the small table to be sampled by the reporter.  He dutifully took the tiniest sip of the drink. Only after a moment had passed did the waiter finally place the drink at Mr. Cash's place at the main table.

A similar process continued with each course of the meal.

Just as after dinner brandies were being delivered, the lights in the great banquet hall dimmed.  The chamber quartet fell silent.  An incredibly fat man in a tuxedo laboriously ascended the three steps to the podium with the assistance of a young aide, obviously a personal servant.  He was greeted with a loud round of applause and  raucous "huzzahs" from the other billionaires just then finishing their dinners.

"Awlraht boys, let's show them librels who's boss!  Put yer monthly dews checks in them pots on the table!"

All those seated at the banquet quickly placed a check for five million dollars into the ceramic dishes which had been placed along the center of the great dinner table.  Individual billionaires slapped each other on the back, laughing with a chorus of cruel guffaws.  Liveried waiters quickly gathered the take.


The toastmaster returned to his comments.

"Ah know thet yew all come down fer the good times tonite, but we jes gotta' take care of business raht quick before we start the party.  Don't worry.  We got ahl kahns of fancy little wimmen, house pets n' boys waitin' in the back room, an' they're all jes dyin' ta meet ya'!  So, les git to them committee reports 'n git thet part of our party out'ta the way!"

"Our first report will be frum our News Management Committee.  Tell us whut yo'all done to git this 'lection on the raht track."

The lawyer in charge of media fraud rose from his chair on the podium.  "We've had a good year.  Our media black out of every bill the administration has signed to help small business owners has gone like clockwork.  No one in the country has heard any news about any of it.  Most voters think that the whole government is just sitting there, doing nothing."

"Our unfounded rumor division has been hammering on the Muslim, Nazi, Stalinist line every time we could grab a microphone.  The birth certificate plan ran its course, but worked pretty darned well.  Our history management group has been very successful in spreading total memory loss and confusion.  Most voters don't think they got a tax cut, and most of them think that Obama bailed out the banks."

"The talking points bunch convinced the country that the health care bill was going to cost money instead of cutting the deficit.  Your insurance boys have done a good job raising premiums and denying coverage before the bill is implemented.  The 'debt for our grandchildren' line went down like chicken soup and jello."

"We've been force feeding the 'business uncertainty' idea with pretty good results, and the 'tax increase' idea has caught on with a good number of citizens, too.  All the Senators working for your club have done as good a job as could be expected in all their interviews and speeches.  Senator McChinless and that 'Boner' have been worth their weight in gold!  Nobody can drill through the mouth farts that pair has been putting out on the air waves."

"Last of all, we're real happy to report thet the wars didn't make it into the mix at all.  We done tried to rename them 'Obama Wars,' but the public jes weren't reddy to fergit who actually started 'em. At least, there weren't no talk 'bout the Iraqi Hydrocarbon Treaty durin' thu 'lection."

The toastmaster thanked the media shill over graciously for his report.  The crowd clapped half-heartedly, no doubt considering the huge amount of cash they had invested in the effort.  "Our next report's comin' from our evangelicul 'n gun nuts committee."


A strangely lean man dressed in a l954 Roy Rogers cowboy outfit rose and moved to the podium.  All eyes from the security thugs were locked onto the 40 calibre automatic pistol strapped to his waist.

"Our scheme to git the NRA n' thu 'Merican Legion fired up t' buy up all thu ghuns and ammo worked out great.  Raht after thu nominashun, half thu cuntry figerred thet civil war was only a day or two from startin'.  We put out thu usual rumors 'bout gun control n' stuff n' follwed 'er up with one of our favorights, thu 'merica ain't a Christian nashun' line."

"After thet, all  them gun totin' losers were dancin' in thu streets with nose bleeds!" 

"Them pastors yew all hahred to spread the 'death panels' 'n aborted fetuses done their job pretty good, too.  Us gun boys picked up the 'take our freedom back' and thu Christians convinced everbody thet health care was Satanic.  Once we laid in thet minorties and welfare queens was gonna' decide whut doctors whaht folks could git to, we hed everthin' but the bonfahrs and book burnin' rollin' down thu road."

The applause for this speaker was even more lack luster.  Clearly, most of the billionaires were a little intimidated by the crazy, paranoid glint in the man's eyes.  The dinner guests were relieved when the aide helped the immense host  stumble back to the microphone.

"Our next report's comin' from the hill billy and bigot management group.  Big  Ole Dick Armey from the Freedom Works couldn't sober up enuf to make it toonaht, but one o' his lieutenants 's here ta fill us in."

Compared to the previous speakers, the Freedom Works man was even creepier.  Our disguised reporter felt a compelling subconscious need to take a shower even before the man began to speak.  For this presentation, the crowd of billionaires gave a standing ovation.

"We've had a real good time fer this 'lection.  We scooped up a few nouns from a 3rd grade American History book 'n unleashed thu Tea Baggers.  We have to admit thet we coulda' worked a' little harder on spellin', but the half-wit message rang through loud 'n clear.  We had geezers so old they could hardly git to the rallies rantin' 'n ravin' 'bout Soshul Scurity and Medicaire being 'gainst the Bauhbul."

"Wha... we got 'em hating Mexicans, Catholics, Chinamen, Muslims and  ever oth'ah minority we culd fahnd in thu phone book."

"Granted, sum of them candidates our hill billies dug up 'n voted fer in the primaries were a little freaky, but we figgered thet it wuz the thought thet counted.  Them 'xpensive bigots y'all hahred to talk 'em up on thu radio worked wonders fer us.  More'n thet, them Nazi's yer Texan slid into thu Spreme Court done a great job makin' yer donashuns legal!"

"As fer thu Negra in thu Oval Office, why, we couldn't have asked fer any more then thet!  Ever red neck in thu whole cuntry cleaned their shot gun 'n started feelin' jes lahk a damned, cranky patriot!  Them bigots gonna' vote 'Publican clear into thu next century!  All them gun totin' crackers ought'a be purty damned handy when y'all start redistrictin' next year, too!"

After another round of hearty applause, the host once again staggered to the microphone.  "Almost dun, y'all, but there's jest one last thing we gotta take care of tonaht.  Thet's gonna be the annyul Exxon-Goldmann-Sachs-Pharmasootical Award fer Excellence in Manipulatin' Public 'Pinion."

"Without no further a'do, thu Club officers desahded thet our favorite dirty shirt preacher -- an' thet ain't Phelps 'n his queer haters lahk last year -- deserved thu prize fer the great work he done on the Mosque 'n thu Koran burnin' episodes.  A big hand fer Dove World Outreach's Terry 'We Hate Rag Heads' Jones." 

( image source )

"Jes when we figgered we couldn't scare the voters any more, this here hill billy show'd up to put the frostin' on the cake!  Best of all, thu whole durned thang didn't cost us nothin'!"

"Now, since we got all our bizness done, we kin move raht ahead to the part yew all lahk thu most!  Ah'm introducin' our Family Values Dancers whahl thu rest of our special party prizes kin start mixin' with thu crowd!"

"Have a great tahm toonaht, y'all!"