Yesterday a friend shared a political "joke" online -- it's apparently a "comical" slam on the President that's been around for some time and is certainly not unique in this election season...but something about it rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the (literally) off-color content, maybe it was the way that it furthered one-dimensional inaccurate representations and clumsily pushed hot button issues/terms (regrettable tactics that now also pervade media coverage and the debates themselves), or maybe I was just feeling grumpy.
I jotted a comical response that employed the same fictional, tongue-in-cheek approach but showed the counter-veiling stereotype...perhaps it wasn't mature, but it was fun, and hopefully illuminating to some who are so ensconced in anti-Obama rhetoric that they rarely come up for a breath of reality. At least I admit that my side is a (slight) exaggeration ;)
I include both posts/sides below -- enjoy one, the other, or both...
THE "JOKE":
In honor of the 44th President of the United States, Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream has introduced a new flavor:
Barocky Road is a blend of half vanilla, half chocolate, and surrounded by nuts and flakes.
The vanilla portion of the mix is not openly advertised and usually denied as an ingredient. The nuts and flakes are all plentiful.
The cost is $92.84 per scoop...so out of a hundred dollar bill you are at least promised some CHANGE!!!
When purchased it will be presented to you in a large beautiful cone, but after you pay for it, the ice cream is taken out of the cone and given to the person in line behind you at no charge.
You are left with an almost empty wallet, staring at an empty cone and wondering what just happened. Then you realize this is what "redistribution of wealth" is all about.
Aren't you just stimulated?
____________
THE REPLY:
Are you sure about the new flavor, because after reading your status I was taken aback by the subtle racism...but my mouth was also watering for some of that Barocky Road so I went down to Baskin-Robbins and had a rather strange experience.
As I approached the storefront, I noticed that it was being boarded up so I sought out the nearest pink-and-brown smock to find out what was happening. Turns out that some private equity firm had purchased the company and decided that more pure profit could be extracted from it if it were overburdened with leveraged debt, moved into bankruptcy, then broken up and sold for parts (primarily to an Italian gelato chain that would deposit the proceeds directly into a Swiss bank account so it wouldn't be taxed). I couldn't make out everything the former employee was saying through her tears (babbling something about no remaining option for affordable health care), but she did tell me where I could find those responsible for depriving me of my frozen treat.
I arrived at "Bane Capital" and was shown to a luxurious corner office where I found myself alone with a creepily artificial mannequin...I was about to leave in search of someone in charge when the oversized Ken doll started to speak.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm not sure...I just wanted some ice cream and went to Baskin-Robbins when I --"
"-- Baskin-Robbins! Sweet little deal that was; paid for the second elevator in my garage!" it exclaimed with something that seemed like an attempt at replicated human enthusiasm.
"But everyone in my neighborhood really likes ice cream," I explained.
"Well then it sounds like there's a niche -- you should start up a small business...if you're lucky we may even buy you up some day!"
"I don't really have the capital to start a business"
"Well of course you don't...that's why you're supposed to borrow money from your parents!" it calmly explained.
"My parents don't have it either."
It seemed a bit confused by this concept, then eyed me with a little more contempt as it declared, "Well I'm sorry, but then they probably shouldn't have been let in the country."
"They're American actually."
"Registered to vote?"
"Yes"
"Well then I care about them deeply! But never mind all of this talk about ice cream -- it's bad for you anyway. That's why I'm against ice cream...now if you'll excuse me, I have some jobs to create."
"Create? From what I've seen, you eliminate jobs."
Its contempt seemed to deepen, or perhaps transformed into patient intolerance as it took on a condescending tone, "No, no, no...you see I increased the size of the pile of money controlled by my investors -- now they will spend it on more things that will stimulate the economy."
"Like ice cream stores that they go on to liquidate?" I naively queried.
"No -- like consumer goods and show horses and job-creaty thingies"
Sounded familiar. "So it will trickle down to the lower classes?"
"You got it!"
"Doesn't seems very fair"
"Oh -- I suppose that YOU want to redistribute MY wealth?!" it protested.
"Not take what you already have, just even the opportunity at future wealth"
"But future wealth is mine too! I knew it -- you're a commie! Look, Robin Hoodski, we can't distribute the nation's bounty -- 47% of the population can't even take responsibility or care for their own lives: we need to consolidate the wealth amongst job creators, and then we'll take care of you. Scout's honor."
"But that's what we were supposed to believe before the financial meltdown -- that approach created wealth on paper, but no good jobs, no good wages, and almost lead to a second great depression!"
"Pffft!" it said, brushing aside the notion that any lesson could be learned from history, "that was almost FOUR whole years ago. Four completely socialist years, I might add. This time it will totally work!" it assured me.
I was still confused. "But it doesn't seem like rich people invest in companies, or the economy, or even the stock market anymore..they take their profits and turn them into more profits through artificial financial instruments that are traded off-market with no oversight. They conjure digital commodities based upon the infinitesimal fracturing of myriad arbitraged debt obligations that are so processed and co-mingled and hedged that no one even knows what they represent...and if they ever are unraveled, it often turns out that the investors are betting AGAINST the survival of the very companies/countries/markets/people they supposedly support. They swap these instruments back-and-forth (employing naught but a few Wall Street VPs) and tell us that they're worth more with each transaction, creating apparent wealth (that's sheltered out-of-the-country)...and confusion...but not so many jobs. Right? I mean what have you done with all that Baskin-Robbins money -- can I see your tax return?"
It looked at me blankly, paused for a few moments, then said, "Let's get back to ice cream"
"I thought you were against ice cream," I reminded it.
"Well -- now it's convenient for me to be for it," it revealed without a hint of irony or shame,"...and if you vote for me," -- I guess it's running for something -- "I promise you all of the ice cream you can eat! And it will all be free. Better than free -- it will make you money AND reduce the deficit AND shrink your waistline AND be delicious! It will have everything that you loved about Baskin-Robbins (before we closed it), but nothing you didn't enjoy -- like calories or a price!"
I figured it must be joking -- hard to tell since it's emotional/empathy centers seemed off-kilter -- but it just stared through me with a disembodied smirk. Realizing it was serious, I just had to know how it thought it could do all that. "How do you think you can do all that?," I asked -- this time aloud.
"I have some ideas -- vote for me and you'll see"
"Can't you tell me now -- it sounds pretty impressive and would likely convince me to vote for you... if all of that is possible "
"Possible? Facts? Reality?! Ugh -- you must be a liberal. If John Smith had thought like you, he never could have translated the golden tablets! Listen, I've learned that it's not important whether my promises are possible or explainable or rooted in reality, it's important that I tell you what you want to hear so that I can get your vote and then get back to the board room...we're having a little party tonight."
"Will there be ice cream?
"Of course!"
"Can I have some?"
"Do you have $50,000?"
"I don't," I confessed.
"I'm sorry, then you're not invited. But you are really important to me, and I care about your...kind, and I'm glad that I have your vote," it assured me as a mahogany panel on the office wall slid aside to reveal a Gatsby-esque shindig in the board room. The mannequin slipped through the opening and was handed a glass of champagne. As it disappeared from view, I could make out a giant sundae bar (vanilla only) in the background and as the panel slowly closed and I heard my host speak one last time -- it wasn't addressing me, but it finally sounded like it believed its own words.
"You have no idea what I just had to deal with," it told a fellow party-goer, "some hapless victim looking for ice cream like he was entitled to it! Probably doesn't even pay taxes. Don't worry I charmed him and am pretty sure he'll vote for us."
Blech. I could really use a shower...and some of that Barocky Road.