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LAUGHING ALL THE WAY TO THE (FEDERAL RESERVE) BANK

by OPOVV, ©2014

Edward Gibbon wrote “The History of the Decline of the Roman Empire” in six volumes published between 1776 and 1788

(Jun. 26, 2014) — ACT I

The curtain rises on a typical Chicago Westside neighborhood bar. Blue and white collars are equally divided, about 30 in all, with a few bikers and college kids. It’s a Friday afternoon and everyone is in good spirits. The sound of distant thunder is heard with sporadic flashes of lightning.

Harry, a successful local real estate broker, enters and loudly addresses the bartender: “Hi-yah, Ed. I’m ‘Dead Broke’: a round for everyone!” as he lays a couple of 100’s on the bar.

Catcalls of “Wish I was as ‘Dead Broke’ as Hillary” and “Who’s buying? Can’t be Hillary, ’cause she’s (chorus): ‘dead broke!’” followed by the chugging of what’s left and then peals of laughter. Someone goes to the jukebox and selects “Mean Women Blues” by Elvis Presley. Some of the customers sing along.

Father O’Malley stands and addresses the group: “Now, now. Let’s not rush to judgment.”

A dart game starts on stage left.

Catcalls of “Can it, Padre. We’re not in your church and these chairs aren’t pews!” with laughter. Father O’Malley chuckles.

Cheryl the barmaid says: “Just because these next drinks are free doesn’t mean you get out of tipping.”

Grumblings from one of the tables: “So these drinks aren’t really ‘free’, are they?”

Cheryl the barmaid: “Look, mister, you don’t order it, you don’t get it, and if you don’t get it, you don’t have to tip, or is that too complicated for you?”

Patron: “Look, lady, I’m a respected banker and a pillar of the community.”

Catcalls: “Pillar! Hey, we got ourselves a ‘pillar’, how about that?”

From one of the tables, a lady (who’s a school teacher) says: “Tell me, how can you be ‘Dead Broke’ while having a couple of hundred million dollars stashed in an offshore account? Hey, everybody, we got ourselves an emissary of the Vatican here, what say we ask him? Hey, Father O’Malley, what about that Vatican bank, is that for real?”

Elvis ends and “Be Bop Baby” by Ricky Nelson is heard.

Father O’Malley: “Yes, the Vatican has a well-respected bank that does business all over the world.”

Somebody says: “Is that an ‘off-shore’ account?”

Father O’Malley: “Any bank outside the direct legal jurisdiction of American monetary laws is, by definition, ‘offshore’. So, yes, the Vatican Bank is just one of thousands that are ‘off-shore’.”

Somebody calls out: “What’s this so-called ‘Slush Fund’ we’ve been hearing about, Father?”

Father O’Malley: “A slush fund can be anywhere. Why, a shoebox full of money in a closet can be described as a slush fund. A slush fund in a bank is just money that people want to keep secret. So Hillary, Bill, and even Chelsea’s millions in the Vatican’s bank is an ‘off-shore slush fund’. Anyone can have one. It’s not against the law, you know. The Vatican Bank is an honest bank, you understand.”

Patron: “That’s a bunch of hog-wash, excuse me, Father. I work for a bank and there’s nothing ‘honest’ about taking advantage of people.”

Father O’Malley: “Be glad to hear your confession tomorrow, son.”

Someone asks: “Hey, Father, how’d them Clintons get all that money in the first place? They didn’t work for it and public service doesn’t pay that much, or does it?”

Father O’Malley: “Yes and no. Yes ‘it doesn’t pay that much’ if  one is honest; on the other hand, if one is not honest, the sky’s the limit. So maybe the Fed, that would be the Federal Reserve Bank, which, as I’m sure you’re aware, is a privately-owned bank that has a contract with the government, instructs Treasury to print a couple of hundred of million. Treasury complies and gives it to the Fed. Some of that money goes to other places besides just the Pentagon, or anywhere else in the government, or the world. And they can do that, the Fed can do that with impunity because, and get this, the Fed is exempt from a public audit. Billions of taxpayer money in off-shore accounts. The Europeans have known about this for years.”

Just then a LOUD clash of lightning is heard, the lights flicker, then go out.

Curtain lowers.

ACT II

Curtain rises on the same scene, except everyone is just sitting, no dart game, no drinking, no talking. The jukebox is softly playing “Theme from ‘A Summer Place’” by Henry Mancini. The lighting is by emergency lighting. A nice-looking matronly lady angel (who has an uncanny resemblance to the Statue of Liberty) lowers from above, center stage, followed by a spotlight.

Angel: “Hello, cast members and audience. I was just passing over, as it were, and heard all this talking about ‘Dead Broke’ and the ‘Vatican Slush Fund,’ so I just dropped by to say a few words.”

“First, your country has been the beacon of Freedom for the world: giving the desperate hope where there was none before. Now, I’ve been in this Angel business for a couple of thousand years and I gotta tell you that you’re blowin’ it. You people just can’t believe how good you have it, and you’re throwing it all away because of ignorance and stupidity. We’re not supposed to directly interfere; however, we are allowed to point the way, as it were.”

“So…I’m going to point you in the right direction. First, read Gibbon’s ‘Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’. Secondly, read ‘I, Claudius’ by Robert Graves and then substitute Hillary for Lydia and you’ll get a very clear picture of the future decline of the USA.”

“I will leave you now and you cast members will have no recollection of my being here.”

The Angel ascends, the spotlight goes out and the bar’s regular lighting comes on. From stage right a man comes out and addresses the audience.

“Ah, sorry for the interruption, but that wasn’t in the script. I guess we just had an ‘appearance’. I apologize to you atheists; well, not really. I mean, you all saw what just happened here, same as me. Okay, cast, you ready to start ACT II?”

Everyone on the stage nods and starts to get moving; the dart game continues. Henry Mancini ends and Dion DiMucci starts singing “Drip Drop.”

Cheryl the barmaid: “Hey, does anyone have a copy of a book by Gibbon?”

Harry: “Read that when I was in college. And also some books by a fellow named ‘Graves’. You know, there was a real witch named Lydia who reminds me a lot of Hillary, or maybe it’s the other way around.”

School teacher: “Me, too. And if I remember right, Lydia murdered people, kind-of like Hillary letting those four Americans get murdered in Benghazi, if you ask me.”

Father O’Malley: “Are these my lines? I don’t remember.”

Father O’Malley walks to stage center and addresses the audience: “I’ve just received a note that we’ve been visited by an Angel. I don’t recall such an event, but if it happened, and the stage hands apparently say that it did, and you people in the audience attest to its happening, then maybe, just maybe, we should pay attention to what Our Lord is trying to tell us; that is, if we’re not so hard-headed not to heed the warnings.”

“When Hillary was the Secretary of State, her Chief of Staff was Huma Abedin, who has ties to The Muslim Brotherhood. Either Hillary was used by Obama (a Muslim), Valerie Jarrett (a Muslim) and Huma Abedin (a Muslim) or not: what difference does it make? The bottom line is that Hillary can’t be trusted to be the Commander-in-Chief, now, can she?”

“Thank you for attending our little play. Please lower the curtain.”

The curtain lowers as Bobby Vinton sings “Mr. Lonely.”

FINI

Semper Fi

OPOVV

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