More Tales from the 57 States

It came to pass in the ninth year of the Third Millennium that, in the great race for who would be Potus, His Obamaness bested John the Warrior, and quite handily.  

So it was that, upon his coronation as Potus, His Obamaness faced a challenge to the Realm that had emerged from the Big Temples of Money Changers, the Palace of the Exchequer, and the Mint of the Realm -- governed by the Chief Minter, Helicopter Ben, who was known to randomly drop bundles of coins upon the people from above.

His Obamaness surveyed the land and was told by his senior consolers, David the Axel and Rahm the Wheels, that one man, though small in stature, stood tall among all the money counters as most qualified to be Exchequer of the Realm. Tiny Tim of Geithnerland.   

And so it was that His Obamaness stood at his royal podium and, with the help of two unemployed circus workers of diminutive stature holding up tablets for Him to read from, one to His left and one to His right, He granted knighthood upon Tiny Tim, a giant among money changers and the new Exchequer of the Realm.   

Upon hearing of Sir Tiny Tim’s appointment, the Guild of Town Criers and the Clan of Donkeys, who supported His Obamaness’s selection over John, heralded him as the most brilliant of all the money counters who had ever lived in the 57 States.   

Now, despite the many bundles of coins lavished upon the Realm during the latter days of the rule of Bush the Younger, the marketplaces of the 57 States were still not as well supplied, nor visited as often, as they once were. So the people looked to His Obamaness for rescue. He turned to Sir Tiny Tim and Helicopter Ben for an elixir to cure the market ills.

The entire Realm waited in anticipation after Tim and Ben stepped behind the curtain-of-curtains to confer on a formula for an elixir.  Rumors abounded as to the nature of the alchemy they were brewing up to bring health and vitality back to the Temples of the Money Changers, and thereby the marketplaces.

Many of the people of the Realm believed that debt and consumption had been the cause of their problems. That belief was even strong among some who had raised their hands to support His Obamaness against John the Warrior in the great contest.

Then, on the day of importance, smoke rose from the boiling caldron behind the curtain-of-curtains signaling success, and all the people of the Realm gathered to learn of the cure.

The curtain parted and Tim and Ben stepped out and stood with His Obamaness, one on each side of Himself.  The people were silent as He spoke:

“We have today discovered a path for all the people to follow that will bring an escape from this ordeal caused by debt and consumption.”

Led by members of the Guild of Town Criers, all the people cheered, “Hail, Obama.”

Holding up a hand to quiet the people, He continued,

“We will go deeper in debt and spend more.”  
         
There was a single beat of silence as the people pondered these words. Then, again led by the Town Criers, many among the people cheered proclaiming their love for His Obamaness for having rescued them from their ordeal.

But others, upon hearing of His prescribed elixir, looked with furrowed eyebrows at each other and said,

“That’s nuts!”

[Hat tip: Gerard Baker, Times of London, Master Craftsman of this Literary Genre]


It came to pass in the ninth year of the Third Millennium that, in the great race for who would be Potus, His Obamaness bested John the Warrior, and quite handily.  

So it was that, upon his coronation as Potus, His Obamaness faced a challenge to the Realm that had emerged from the Big Temples of Money Changers, the Palace of the Exchequer, and the Mint of the Realm -- governed by the Chief Minter, Helicopter Ben, who was known to randomly drop bundles of coins upon the people from above.

His Obamaness surveyed the land and was told by his senior consolers, David the Axel and Rahm the Wheels, that one man, though small in stature, stood tall among all the money counters as most qualified to be Exchequer of the Realm. Tiny Tim of Geithnerland.   

And so it was that His Obamaness stood at his royal podium and, with the help of two unemployed circus workers of diminutive stature holding up tablets for Him to read from, one to His left and one to His right, He granted knighthood upon Tiny Tim, a giant among money changers and the new Exchequer of the Realm.   

Upon hearing of Sir Tiny Tim’s appointment, the Guild of Town Criers and the Clan of Donkeys, who supported His Obamaness’s selection over John, heralded him as the most brilliant of all the money counters who had ever lived in the 57 States.   

Now, despite the many bundles of coins lavished upon the Realm during the latter days of the rule of Bush the Younger, the marketplaces of the 57 States were still not as well supplied, nor visited as often, as they once were. So the people looked to His Obamaness for rescue. He turned to Sir Tiny Tim and Helicopter Ben for an elixir to cure the market ills.

The entire Realm waited in anticipation after Tim and Ben stepped behind the curtain-of-curtains to confer on a formula for an elixir.  Rumors abounded as to the nature of the alchemy they were brewing up to bring health and vitality back to the Temples of the Money Changers, and thereby the marketplaces.

Many of the people of the Realm believed that debt and consumption had been the cause of their problems. That belief was even strong among some who had raised their hands to support His Obamaness against John the Warrior in the great contest.

Then, on the day of importance, smoke rose from the boiling caldron behind the curtain-of-curtains signaling success, and all the people of the Realm gathered to learn of the cure.

The curtain parted and Tim and Ben stepped out and stood with His Obamaness, one on each side of Himself.  The people were silent as He spoke:

“We have today discovered a path for all the people to follow that will bring an escape from this ordeal caused by debt and consumption.”

Led by members of the Guild of Town Criers, all the people cheered, “Hail, Obama.”

Holding up a hand to quiet the people, He continued,

“We will go deeper in debt and spend more.”  
         
There was a single beat of silence as the people pondered these words. Then, again led by the Town Criers, many among the people cheered proclaiming their love for His Obamaness for having rescued them from their ordeal.

But others, upon hearing of His prescribed elixir, looked with furrowed eyebrows at each other and said,

“That’s nuts!”

[Hat tip: Gerard Baker, Times of London, Master Craftsman of this Literary Genre]