Thursday, September 10, 2009

European funnies

As most educated, intelligent and well informed people know, the madness and evildoing exists pretty much everywhere. Our entire species is just a bunch of sheople waiting for our masters to shave of our wool, feed us and in other ways take care of us. And as the saying goes, some at the farm are a bit more equal than others.

One of these a-bit-more-equal ones is the froggy leader, in this story called Sarky. Sarky have decided that families on his part of the farm will pay an extra tax for the trucks bringing food, seed and other useful products. This is because of Sarky’s unrelenting thirst for power and a desperate need for more money to his court. Since this authority figure and his jesters always seem to run out of founds, and since they cannot overtax sheople directly on the work they do on the farm, that would be to obvious, they have instead needed to invent a scheme to hide their greed. Thankfully, almost all other communities within the farm and the UA (United Animals) have tricked most flocks that the fumes from the truck are dangerous. During campaigns such as “let the horse pull the wagon again” and the wonderful “fertilizer can be used as fuel”, they have used professor CooCooshit and his employed staff of equally greedy students, to sell this notion. The tax – initially set at €17 per tonne of carbon dioxide emissions – will be levied on each animal and businesses for fossil fuel consumption within the farm. It’s all a scam, of course, but once implemented it will bring in mucho green to Sarky and all of those of stature to successfully pay for a manor or two and leave money over for more height increasing apparatuses. The latter to bring Sarky, and others of unfair lower heights, up to normal sized animals.

Bordering to Sarky’s kingdom, is the former arch enemy of the froggies, the wiener loving cows. Their supreme leader Mrs Merkuul and her marry band of bandits have decided to re-ratify The Farm’s Lisbonbon Treaty. This in a masterful move of deceit and power play in order to get those pesky leprecon’s a bit further away to finally cave in under pressure and approve this treaty on their 58th attempt to vote about it. All 58 times before those stupid leprecons have voted no, but that does not stop the European Farm Union’s elitists to push for another referendum, those island living leprecons are bound to make the correct decision sooner or later. Just give them enough chances.

A bit south on the Farm is the home of Mr. Berluscones . He’s the leader of the pasta and wine community consistent of goats. Mr. Berluscones have recently been revealed as a sex crazed old goat. As the owner of several farm-pamphlets he has tried to avoid the exposure, but when it was found out that he has lots of buttered up phallus-shaped loafs of very stale bread at his mansion, a mansion that often got visits from well-shaped professional hens, his secret came out. Most of the other elitists envy this old goat for getting erected at his age, but a total of 30 young hens were alleged to have attended 18 dinner parties at Mr. Berluscones lavish residence over a five month period, with five allegedly paid 1,000 Euros each to spend the night and offer the aged goat services like “tickle me with feathers” and “that’s not where the eggs comes out”. And such events cannot go by without being the talk of the farm.

And finally, all over the farm there has been a big crisis. Crops are withering, the farmhouse is falling apart, the barn is losing its paint and the water is drying up. Also the high payouts to animals doing nothing has grown so much that hardly anyone works anymore. But, most importantly, the sinister crows, that handles all the money, have swindled away most riches, lend out a lot that no one can pay back and also stolen what little glimmering metals there are.

Now, however, the elitists from all animals and kingdoms have got together and borrowed from other farms, and among themselves, to pay for cute little rip-offs.

They have used their printing machines to paper over all the holes in the farmhouse, and with red paper glued to the barn it looks brand new again. In the fields they have put out plastic crops to fill in the gaps of the ones failing, and the water has been rationed. All leftover riches, and most of the borrowed ones, have gone to the crows, they are sure to do a better job this time around – propping up stocks and creating fake values in the farm with all this borrowed and newly printed money.

Thanks to the elitists of the farm, the crows have also managed to trick several farm animals to borrow money for themselves again, buying new homes they actually don’t need and getting so in debt they hardly can feed their young.

And now when the farm is looking quite good again, the farm newsletter, own by the crows, is shrieking out that the crisis is over.

So now all is well, let’s just hope that tornado at the horizon doesn’t strike the farm. Also we can put trust in that that strange looking noisy mountain with that shiny stuff pouring out of it isn’t up to any mischief.

Yapp, all is well…

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