Oppressed United Taxpayers Revolting Against Government Excesses (O.U.T.R.A.G.E.) was becoming a huge organization, and that presented a predicament. Since its early days of just a few thousand people, it had blossomed into a revolutionary group of over a hundred thousand long before the January, 2008 explosions. Now American citizens, who had been hogtied to a corruptive system dominated by two political parties for more than a century, were once again beginning to take an interest in their government, recognizing that they could now actually participate and be a part of the process.
O.U.T.R.A.G.E. was, in itself, not a political party. It had been formed as a rebellious faction dedicated to the overthrow of the Bush administration and the oppressive federal government. It was a contemporary, hi-tech version of the "minutemen" of early colonial days who used their knowledge of the backwoods to defeat the oppressive reign of the British monarchy. In 2008, these rebels were computer nerds, engineering geniuses, and whole lot of common, everyday folks who had money, skills, time or labor to donate to the cause. Secretly over a period of several years, O.U.T.R.A.G.E. members had accumulated massive amounts of money, and had invested these funds wisely to build a cache of cash which was ultimately used for the destruction of most of America's wealthy elitists, corrupt politicians, and squanderous athletes, celebrities and business leaders who had pawned their morality, human decency, principles and personal values all for the sake of making big bucks or attaining unfathomable power.
In three short months after revealing itself to the American people, and claiming sole responsibility for the mass murders it had committed, O.U.T.R.A.G.E. was attracting the interest of prominent citizens who had been spared. Colin Powell, John McCain, Al Gore, and now Bill Clinton had jumped on the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. bandwagon to help steer the organization. One thing founders of the group didn't want was a typical hierarchy or structured organization chart. There wasn't supposed to be any "head honchos". The theory remained in place: "the larger any organization, government or corporation gets, the less manageable it becomes, and the fewer people benefit from it".
That edict couldn't be erased from the consciousness of the organization. Still, with hundreds of thousands of people "out in the field", there had to be some centralization. The "headquarters" on the island of St. Kitts was filled with a bevy of "eager beavers" anxious to do whatever needed to be done. People in the field were pretty much left to their own devices. There had been cracks in the communications network a couple of weeks ago when Ron Oetting and Phil Baker, ardent O.U.T.R.A.G.E. members from the very beginning, were erroneously reported as having died in seperate freak accidents. Now, there were incidents of O.U.T.R.A.G.E. members stepping over each other, duplicating efforts, and undoing things that others had done. It was typical organizational mayhem, and it needed some controls. Businesspeople from around the country, recognized for their organizational strengths and successful structuring of their corporate teams, were summoned to St. Kitts for a roundtable discussion of how best to modify the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. organization to enhance its effectiveness without disrupting its loose-knitted legacy. The minutemen, after all, were a rag-tag bunch of frontiersmen not all that well managed; yet they managed to throw the British army out of the country. O.U.T.R.A.G.E. members believed that kind of nimble flexibility was important to the ultimate success of the organization. Once the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. mission was accomplished, it intended to disband and never be heard from again. It expected new politicians that would be voted into office next November would also adhere to such temporary status. Could human hubris actually be stifled so that man's egoism and arrogance would not deprive American citizens of their democracy?
To further distance itself from returning to being a republic governed by those elected by the people, one O.U.T.R.A.G.E. committee was considering the possibility of renaming the country to the United Democratic States of America. It was imperative that voters understood that in a true democracy, they were in total control. Their elected officials could only do their bidding, and it had to stay that way in order to preserve the integrity of the Constitution. Should a new flag be adopted?
These issues were all taken under advisement, and could readily be introduced as new non-binding resolutions prior to the election.
Bob Ryan was a mild-mannered kind of guy whose proclivities included drag racing, an occasional football game, and a more-than-occasional ice cold beer. Ryan had grown up in tiny Antwerp, Ohio, and had become a partner in a home improvement company that had built its reputation on customer service, absolute integrity and total fairness. It was these traits he also brought to the committee which he had been asked to chair. The more he imbibed at the local tavern, the more likely you could engage him in a spirited conversation about the downfall of America's political system. Ryan didn't like any government, from his local municipal leaders who tried to raise his sewer rates too often to the federal stumblebumbs who he believed had almost certainly been conceived from the fiery loins of Satan himself. Nobody had more disdain for politics than Bob Ryan, and - while he often kept his beliefs to himself - every once in a while his dry sense of humor would let loose after a few well-intentioned 'brewskies' and anyone at the bar was left without doubt where he stood. His penchant for detail and perfection was ideally suited for the task he'd agreed to undertake. "Yeah," he said without hesitation, after first accepting the assignment, "I'll do it. Just keep those ice cold beers coming if I'm going to have to stay in St. Kitts. It's hotter than a politician's penis at an intern-recruiting job fair!"
Ryan and his staff would routinely work during the cooler morning hours, then 'break' for an afternoon delight at the Shiggity Shack, a cardboard-bar on the Caribbean seacoast, before heading back into committee just as the island traditionally was drenched with pop-up showers and the blazing sun settled below the ocean-blue horizon. To Ryan's delight, the band of musicians assembled at the Shiggity Shack could play any of his favorite pop-culture 'druggie' music from the 70's, and Bob would relax with a doobie in one hand and that frosty libation in the other. Life was good....