Democratic License by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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The Rolling Stones
I live on an apartment
On the ninety-ninth floor of my block And I sit at home lookin' out the window Imaginin' the world has stopped
Then in flies a guy
Who's all dressed up just like the Union Jack He says "I would drive around If I had his kind of detergent pack"
I said, "Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd On my cloud baby"
The telephone is ringin'
I say, "Hi, it's me, who is it there on the line?"
A voice says, "Hi, hello, how are you?
Well, I guess I'm doin' fine"
It's three a.m., there's too much noise Don't you people ever wanna go to bed?
'Cause you feel so good
Do you have to drive me out of my head?
I said, "Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd On my cloud baby"
I was sick and tired, fed up with this And decided to take a drive downtown It was so very quiet and peaceful There was nobody, not a soul around I laid myself out
I was so tired and I started to dream In the mornin' the parkin' tickets were just like a flag Stuck on my windscreen
I said, "Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Don't hang around 'cause two's a crowd On my cloud"
Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud
Hey, hey, you, you, get off of my cloud Don't hang around, baby, two's a crowd On my cloud
Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.
You may be wondering how I got this great job. I mean it’s not like something that’s advertised and you apply for on Indeed, Work Day Jobs, HeadHunter, Glassdoor, ZipRecruiter, Taleo, Pole emploi, Seek Limited, Naukri, JoongAng Ilbo, or Jobcase. After the breakup of my second marriage, I moved to and was working as a part-time bartender in the Banana Republic of Seattle, ostensibly US. The place is expensive, much more so than the web tells you, as their averages include the Aurora Avenue area, sometimes referred to as the International Special Review District, where the hotels are filled with moulinyan illegal aliens, the streets host free tents housing moulinyans of every denomination, and the de-funded cops don’t bother to arrest anyone for anything. The web misinformed me. You really can’t blame the cops as their highest priority is to keep their well-paid, payoff producing positions, in the piss, shit, and garbage filled streets of the “progressive” city.
I had to look uptown, and took an expensive apartment in tonier Pike Place Market, where the tents were only allowed under the
ersatz bridge, below Interstate 5, which is only shut down half of the time. “Grand View Manor” lived up to its name with dramatic vistas of the parking lot, where the tentless
“alternative lifestyle” contingent shared the ground level overhangs with the ground floor “Grand View Manor” tenants of FedEx and Felix’ Copy Center, and the adjoining Snap-on Tools local franchise.
I got a part time bartending job at the Jarr Bar, which serves more brown bagged Ripple, than it does conventional sit down patrons. You might have correctly imagined that it was lousy for tips, though on the positive side, it was only held up once or twice a week.
While on a vigorous walk on the property I came across a dancing girl who was also a suicidal American customer of Snap-on Tools.
Without any prompting she went on to tell me that she was once a trusted supervising employee of Fidelity Investments, a national mutual fund retailer, who was fired, and despite two lawsuits, can no longer return to her job or any equivalent, because she reported a moulinyan to the police, who said that she was just an evil racist Karen, and that he was only in Discovery Park to watch birds, and that his pants were “down,” only due to that being a part of moulinyan culture. I laughed, though I probably shouldn’t have.
Rather than being offended, being White she was used to the abuse, and just continued on with her “rap,” and offered me $20
to vote under a false name for Biden in the rigged Presidential election of 2020. We became buddies and I did it thirty-seven times at different precincts. This apparently impressed a local political boss named Shifty Schiff who made me one of his enforcers and then his political protégé.
During the ensuing public campaign for political reform, Schiff’s shady boss, who controlled all the political parties in the Seattle metropolitan area, decided to have me elected mayor as a "reform" candidate. I told him that I wasn’t much of a reformer; being more of a democrat.
He said; “Reformer, democrat, republican; whatever. Silly, silly boy. They’re all me. Me alone. Governor and Senator, Huey Long said; “Corrupted by wealth and power, your government is like a restaurant with only one dish. They’ve got a set of Republican waiters on one side and a set of Democratic waiters on the other side. But no matter which set of waiters brings you the dish, the legislative grub is all prepared in the same Wall Street kitchen.” That’s why he had to be killed. You’re jewish, right?”
Especially since I had heard something like that somewhere before, I was suddenly feeling as naïve as a Catholic sitting
shiva, I tried to feign sophistication, and in that vein said an evasive; “More or less.”
He said a credible candidate must be married, because in these times people will assume that you are gay without it, and then you get piled on with all that pedophile crap and they send out all those tranny creeps. But I told him that I had no one I wanted to marry. He then proposed a marriage of convenience to his concubine secretary, Layla which I rejected, after he smilingly showed me her picture with someone’s business spouting in her face.
He inquired; “Prude?”
I said; “More or less. Depends on what you mean.”
He said; “I like you. My name is Menachem Begin.”
I said; “Pleased to meet you. Mines Lincoln, Abraham. I like you too; just keep your hands off me old wazoo.”
He lost two beats laughing and finally said; “No, really.
Menachem Begin the Third. Grandson. You probably only know the first.”
I was at a loss, but still didn’t want to give out my real name.
So I said; “Hunter Biden, and I’m an unregistered sex offender.”
Menachem III said; “I think I can cook something up for you.
Politics and getting elected stuff is not your forte. But, we’ve got an opening in a new field. It’s quasi-legal, and despite that pays well. We, unofficially at MOSSAD have bots doing some things out at Point Nemo, and we’d like to have a jew hominid monitor them for us.”
I said; “I’m not all that jewish. Just my mom. If I had any religion it would be; ‘I don’t give two wet farts.’”
He said; “Perfect.”
I said; “Regarding that pay .......”
He said; “All you can steal.”
I said; “Elections?”
He said; “Elections? Silly boy, we’re riggers at deep state MOSSAD. You get a boat; I should say a ship, and seven bots to do all the work. Complete privacy and luxury.”
I said; “If the bots do all the work, what do you need me for?”
He said; “That’s a good question. We probably don’t. I guess it’s that I don’t fully trust those bots yet, and I want someone to keep an eye on them.”
“Job security?”
“The usual; none.”
“Fringe benefits?”
“You’ll be given a license to kill.”
“Cool. Like Oh-Oh-Seven, James Bond.” I was so happy, I couldn’t help but break out in a song. It seemed relevant at the time, and proved to be just that.
Oh-Oh-Seven (Shanty Town)