too," adds Table.
"Ok, then what's next? How does this help? I don't see how it means we get to elect the president? The total vote in those cities still won't give us a majority," asks DeWitt.
"So, we get more voters to vote for us."
"How?"
"We get that immigration amnesty bill passed in the upcoming lame duck session."
"I'm sure the votes aren't there for that," says DeWitt. "Way too much opposition."
"Actually, we only need about twenty votes in the House. The Senate is on board," says Bader.
"And how, now that we've lost, do you propose we get those twenty votes?"
"First, it's the lame duck session and Obama is still president. The new representatives don't take their seats until January. Second, there are people who will soon be out of office, they want friends who can take care of them. Obama can still grant favors, to them, their kids, their relatives. Ya'know, appointments, pardons, you name it. Third, having won big, the other side might be more inclined to be generous. Fourth, and most important, we just blackmail the rest. Steve, do you want to elaborate."
"I wouldn't actually call it blackmail, I'd prefer to call it persuasion."
"Aggravated persuasion, ok?"
"Works for me. Yes," says Admiral Black as he opens his brief case and pulls out a stack of manila folders.
"Here are files on twenty members of the House whose votes might be obtained were they to know the contents of these were going to be released."
He passes the folders around to the others who take several minutes thumbing through them and passing them on to one another. More than a few chuckles, gasps and muttered utterances of oh my God are heard.
Eventually Admiral Black retrieves the folders, hands them to Bader and smiles.
"Yes, I think those files could change a few votes," giggles DeWitt. "Where did they come from?"
"Did I mention I run NSA? Do you really need to ask?" replies Black. "We've got everything on everybody. A politician can't fart in this country without us having a record of it."
"Something to keep in mind," says DeWitt. "Ok, Bader, put this all together. I think I see where you're going now."
"Sixty million newly minted voters out of the shadows, so to speak. Ninety percent of whom are in big urban islands on the East and West coasts, Chicago, Cleveland or Detroit, California. All on EBT cards. We'll own them, totally. In the past, this wouldn't matter much. We would always win New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, California and so on. The number of votes we won by never made a difference. We only got the electoral votes of a single state regardless of how much we won it by. But, once the National Popular Vote law kicks in, bingo. We own the presidency. Our EBT sheeple will out vote the opposition. The rest of the country will be shit out of luck."
"Brilliant!" exclaims Cutter.
"But we need to do things in the right order. First, no mention of the push to get the NPV law passed, not yet. At the moment, it's far beneath the radar. It's long been forgotten. Lets keep it that way for the time being. We wait until we get amnesty passed first, then we push the NPV law."
"Perfect, absolutely perfect" says Salazar.
Admiral Black excuses himself saying, "By the way, if you need any help getting the NPV law passed, just ask. We also track state politicians."
They party the night away like it's 1932 all over again. Happy days will soon be here.
Saturday, November 19, 2016
In a late night, lame duck session, rushing to complete business before the Thanksgiving Recess, both the House and Senate pass a sweeping immigration reform bill and send it to President Obama for his signature. It provides amnesty for sixty million illegals and the customary, meaningless commitment to increased border security.
The passage of the bill surprises many observers since a large number of House members, previously against amnesty, suddenly change their votes and support the measure. There is jubilation in large cities as millions of formerly illegals are now citizens.
State welfare departments begin sending out millions of newly minted EBT cards and voter registration forms. Big city political machines roll into action.
The goal is to quickly mold these clients into a permanent underclass of government dependents. This means delivering crappy schools, dilapidated housing, high crime neighborhoods, broken families and a bevy of puppet community organizers to ride herd on them, services that urban political machines deliver well.
Thursday, December 8, 2016
The Connecticut legislature passes the otherwise forgotten National Popular Vote act and the governor quickly signs it into law. The winner in the Electoral College will now be determined by the overall national popular vote.
Politicians across the country are caught off guard. They suddenly realize that the game has been changed, significantly changed. Attempts to roll back the NPV law in those states that have passed it are futile.
Through a combination of airtight control of the welfare classes, the honored traditions of big city vote fraud, mass illegal immigrant amnesty, and the creative hacking opportunities presented by electronic and online balloting, presidential electoral power is now tightly in the grips of the progressive political oligarchs.
They will control the voters, they will count the votes, and they will determine the outcome. They own the national government at the presidential level. From now on, vote rich, mainly coastal, urban precincts will decide the outcome presidential elections.
January 20, 2017
Inauguration Day
Despite the demise of the Democrat Party in the elections of 2016, the hapless Republican who becomes president today faces a tsunami of social, medical, economic, political, foreign and immigration disasters.
His every effort to right the ship of state is thwarted by an invincible quadrumvirate of opposition: the Senate, the media, the judiciary, and the retrenched federal bureaucracy. The forces set in motion by the policy errors of the previous eight years continue to spiral out of control. His honeymoon is short and loveless.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
At about 10 am, in a large and crowded convention center in Los Angeles, the gavel falls on the organizational convention of the New Progressive Party. The crowd bursts into applause.
The delegates attending represent a wide and colorful spectrum of left wing activists and special interest groups.
There are government unions. Their interest is in selecting politicians who will insure that their members get the largest possible slice of government revenue for the least possible amount of work.
There are the environmentalists, greens, global warming and renewable energy crowd who want to completely shut down coal, oil, nuclear and natural gas energy production and run the country on windmills, solar panels, tides and wood chips.
There are the organic, anti-GMO, anti-hormone, anti-antibiotic, anti-vaccine, anti-preservative, anti-additive, anti-feedlot, free-range fringe who want to ban any form of farming or medicine not in use in the year 1600.
They are saucer-eyed academics with elaborate theories of political social organization and questionable personal hygiene.
There are the usual fat cat big city oligarchs looking for ever larger federal handouts to buy off their serfs.
There is a menagerie of activists interested in socialism, woman's rights, gender and sexual orientation quotas, welfare handouts, legalized recreational drugs, Sharia law, polygamy, racism, white privilege, homelessness, Palestine, gay and transgender privilege, fracking, and, as always, the man/boy love association.
There are antiwar pacifists who want to disband the military, the anti-big business groups who want an end to private property. There are the occupy Wall Street dudes with their quaint trademark toilet training. One group wants to build a spaceport for the aliens they believe are coming soon to take them all home.
None of these groups really matter. The real power is looking down on them from the sky boxes above.
A color gu
ard marches smartly down the center aisle to trumpets blasting ruffles and flourishes. Once the guard is lined up across the stage, the band begins the national anthem.
Some stand with raised, clenched fists while many remain seated in protest of the unjust, racist, sexist, homophobic American society. Some others stand to turn their backs in protest.
From the wreckage of the Democrat Party a new and well financed political force is rising, One whose fortunes are now somewhat guaranteed. The new party is the financial creation of a group known as the Progressive Alliance, a secretive dark money organization funded by a shadowy collection of public spirited billionaires. It is they who will control the party from behind the scenes, they who will pull the strings and they who expect to profit immensely from a state regulated, competition-free economy.
From the VIP guest boxes high above, a small group of very wealthy donors, consultants and politicians smile down in approval at their creation. All have done their job well.
George Salazar turns to Warren Table and Hillary DeWitt and says, "Ever see such a bunch of wackos, misfits and crazies in one place before?"
"Now George, they're our people. And don't say anything that might be recorded. You know how easy it is to eavesdrop these days," scolds DeWitt.
"True, our friend Steve Black is tribute to that. So, now, what's next?"
"Well, we do this convention and, with Bob's help, and that of our other friends in the media, people will be told that a glorious new day has arisen. A new hope, a new beginning! Right Bob?" says