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4 Sale
by Rick Tornello

4 Sale, yep that’s what the Library of Congress posted on the Government Web Site, “The Bill Of Rights, 4 Sale.”  The new Congress, controlled by the Right-Wig-Tea-Bags had decided to sell the Bill of Rights to the highest bidders, with a first edition copy to boot,  in order to cut the deficit and to allow their moneyed crony/backers the unmitigated right to do as they pleased.

By owning the BOR, the new holders could enforce whatever part they chose to, whenever they wanted, and they could contradict themselves if so desired. It was a win- win situation for all concerned. Concern was only an issue for those with the money who by necessity needed to be concerned.  The poor and middle-milked classes had no actual say in matters, nor have they ever. It’s just been a façade perpetrated every few years in a circus called elections.

In a joyful extravaganza, the famous auction house, Smootheoverbees conducted the auction on the floor of the Senate to full world wide video viewing.  The planet was glued, the ratings the highest ever. Protesters were locked away in internment camps in Siberia and the high desert and left to starve as did POWs in Russia during the Second War of Crony Capitalism.

Would General Eclectic, or General Mildew or The Central Kingdom pony up? Bets were being madly made in Lost Wages, Nuevo Mexidope.

What happened was a total surprise.

You all heard of SETI, the search for intelligence somewhere in the universe, obviously not here. Well, They showed up. Apparently scientists figured a way to jump back in time from the ABELL 520 Cluster, aka Train Wreck Cluster, and decided to invest in the this planets’ futures on the Universal Commodities Exchange.


“Going once, going twice, do I hear 3 billion metric tons of gold, 3 billion, 3 billion.” The slam of the Senate gavel ended it as the President of the Senate, declared, “Sold to the ABELL 520 Cluster for 250 billion metric tons of gold.”

The gold was deposited in the vaults at Ft. Hardknocks and the numbered Swisscheese accounts of each Right-Wig-Tea-Bag member. The Train Wreck Group now had unrestricted right to do as they damned well pleased.

‘It’s nothing personal, just business’ was the mantra for the newly super powerful. It reminded me of an old refrain from some friends of mine from NY and NJ.  I wasn’t fooled.


“Hey Frankie,” I called. “You see this.” The Papers of State have just been auctioned off to these astrogeeks from somewhere 2.4 billion years away. They just paid in gold. Look at the Senate floor, their climbing over each other.”

“Yeah, gotta hand it to them, those RWTBs really had big cajones to pull that one off. Now we’re gonna see some real action.  BTW Johnnie, no talking to anyone, the big boys have an in on this one. Seems as if one of the Bosses kids is an astronomer working the SETI project and knew about it before it hit the press. He got and inside line, sort of like having options on Google before it went big.  Well he told G.F. and G.F.  handed him some money and made some phone calls to who the fuck knows, and I don’t want to either, but the point is our family now owns NY, NJ, and get this, we have options on a few new pieces of business.”

“How’s it gonna work?” I questioned.

“We’re part of their syndicate as they call it, pretty funny, no? They get a percentage of all they claim are theirs and we get to do what ever we want with the rest. We own the local contracts. We can’t be touched. What’s more, we’re going to purchase a few other countries’ paper. These guys from Abell 520 are out here purchasing up a bunch of other planets too, as I understand from the little pigeon. So we get in on the ground floor. The idiots from RWTB have no clue what’s gonna hit them.”

“Whata you mean?”

“Hey, gavone!  Johnnie, We OWN IT.  We Fucken OWN IT. Well, 520 owns it, but we are the muscle and it has it benefits.”

“Old style, new form. Any problems from the citizenry expected?”

“You gotta be kidding. Mouth off and gone to who knows where. You gonna chase these guys through the universe? Don’t think so. They are the only ones with the vehicles. It’s one way, our way or the space-way, no suit, get it?”

“Yeah, I got it. So who provides the muscle just in case some general in some country doesn’t like the New Order?”

“Most have bought in and are being enlisted into these SETI’s military. They get to play with new toys and no questions. They actually work for us. Oh BTW, cousin, there are benefits to this you wouldn’t believe, if you know what I mean. Just don’t let the old lady know. Dead is dead and you can’t enjoy it being off line. If we’re not kings we’re damned close.”

“So Frankie, what happens after they get what they want?”

“They leave and it’s a waste land. But we’ll be gone by then. Or they terraform it to a playground for other planets and we, our families run it like a giant Wisneylany.  I would bet on the latter, since the populations will be used to taking orders from the BOSSES.”


I had to hand it to Frankie. He had it figured out. It was pretty good. Luck was a lady to us, and we wouldn’t disappoint a lady of such high stature. We played these games on a smaller scale compared to this syndicate. We were good and trusted soldiers.

“Hey sweetie, I said to the waitress, “please,” I’m always polite to the help, “please get me a drink and a round for the house too.”

“Life is gonna be great. You know what, it ain’t much different anywhere. We’ll do just fine.”

By, Richard Tornello © 2012