Starve Uncle Sam!

(By Cyril Blubberpuss, Conservative-American)

“As any devotee of professional tax dodger Grover Norquist would tell you, Uncle Sam’s been looking a bit too fit around the belt line these days,” as I told a homeless mother of four shivering in a doorway with her brood. “And it’s about time we put the fat fuck on a diet!” I added before throwing her one of those fake 20 dollar bills sadistic evangelicals use to trick excited waiters into opening them and finding instead an invitation to one their babbling in tongues services.

And the current government shutdown has already taken in a notch on old Sam’s belt line but that’s only a good start!  Don’t let those propaganda photos of a fit and slender Uncle Sam fool you! That motherfucker is as fat as a house! As proof, consider the very fact that the liberal media keeps bleating about, how 800,000 federal workers are now out of a paycheck. That alone bespeaks of a huge drain on the government coffers. But at least the payroll we’re now saving will finally justify Trump, Pence and the entire Cabinet getting those $10,000-13,000 a year pay raises to which those billionaires and multimillionaires so richly deserve.

Shrink the government down so you can drown it in a bathtub? Right now you can’t even if you had 1000 HH Holmes and an Olympic-size swimming pool!

Take what used to be dull, cumbersome air travel, for instance. Before, we had tens of thousands of Transportation Safety Administration screeners holding up lines looking in vain for the next 9/11 hijackers. Now, they’re calling in sick in droves, many are quitting their dead-end jobs. Now, flying the friendly skies will be more exciting and with an element of danger. At least, that’s what I told my jittery executive secretary who will be flying in my stead to Davos later this winter.

The President also will be living a more exciting life as his and the First Family’s personal protection in the Secret Service is now also going without paychecks. But it’s all worth it, I say. We need the Wall. It’s not as if most drug shipments are going through legal ports of entry such as our airports, anyway. And steel slats of good old Russian steel with very narrow spaces through them would filter out, among other things like fat Mexicans, the massive bags of drugs that the president said were being dropped on peoples’ heads like something out of a Buster Keaton comedy.

And it’s not as if shutting down the government in this pissing match between our hypervigilant president and the Democrat Party isn’t having salutary effects. For instance, federal grand juries that would hear witch hunt evidence against Mr. Trump can now no longer be empaneled because the Justice Department can no longer afford it. Thankfully, President Trump has his head on straight and isn’t going overboard with this shutdown- The IRS will now be able to process and send out tax refunds to the 1% who once anxiously awaited them so they can finally afford that third Mercedes or Bentley.

The president promised me as much last month in the Oval Office itself right around Christmas. The poor man was feverishly working and badmouthing Democrats on Twitter while everyone else went home for the holidays. I’m not bragging when I say I provided the greatest billionaire president in modern times with a valuable social bridge between the time Congress and the rest of the government scuttled away to celebrate Christmas and the time the First Lady showed up on Christmas Eve to console our valiant Wall Warrior.

“Cyril,” he told me as we ate some leftover Chicken McNuggets from the last annual White House office Christmas party, “nobody understands the stakes here but me! Just think what my base will do to me if I don’t give them a wall. Those clowns who voted for me are some crazy, sick fucks! And my own security detail will have to file for food stamps next month, too! And you know what's going to happen to that!”

Even my suggestion that he round up some of those Polack workers who’d built Trump Tower in 1980 and have them build six feet of wall and have himself filmed before it in a very, very tight shot didn’t lift the poor man from his doldrums.

“I mean, Fox isn’t even covering my rallies, any more. This is a ratings disaster! My 2020 campaign won’t have a chance. If it wasn’t for Putin, I wouldn’t even be here…!” He screamed before I said “Sh!” and pointed to a lamp on the Resolute Desk and mouthed, “Mueller, remember?”

“But it’s really about southern border security, right, sir?” I asked a bit too loudly.

“Border security?! Who gives a fuck about…” then he looked at the lamp again and said, “Oh, yeah. That, too. Sure. Whatever.”

Then I finally got him in the Christmas spirit when I reminded him that Arnold Schwarzenegger’s ratings for The Apprentice were worse than his will ever be. We high-fived each other and mutually agreed Austria was a shithole country just as Melania walked into the Oval Office wearing an outfit that made her look like a cross between a fucking Atwood Handmaid and a serial killer's idea of a Christmas tree.

             My job was done. On the ride back to the airport, I discovered my Uber driver was Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein. I smiled and rubbed my hands. Now it was time to drown the other 75% of Uncle Sam.