"The insanity of government is unbelievable!" screeched a red-headed bartender named Christina, who had been working on an O.U.T.R.A.G.E. project for weeks, involving research into how government continued to spend billions of taxpayers' dollars uselessly. Voluptuous in a hard-core sort of way, Christina had joined O.U.T.R.A.G.E. early on; the sparkling red hair accented a freckled face and intense greenish-blue eyes. Everything about her hinted at a woman whose private moments were as opstreperous as all those uproarious hours she spent sloshing beers across the bar. Her loyal male 'regulars' appreciated her salty sailor's vocabulary, and felt left out if she didn't deliberately blurt out some blatant insult or crude referral to their manhood. "Hey Paul," she'd yell from across the bar for everyone to hear, "your wife tells me yours stands straight up all the time...it's too short to hang!" It was all in good fun, and such vociferance kept her customers coming back, allowing her to make a comfortable living in what many might consider a harsh environment. It also gave Christina total control over her clientele; she wasn't just serving them brewskies...Christina was giving this eclectic collection of whore dogs their very own afternoon version of Billy Joel's "Piano Man". The "real estate novelist who never had time for a wife" was "talking to Davy who's still in the Navy, and probably will be for life". Christina brought a bizarre bawdiness to their lonely lives, peppered with a sincerity of spirituality and compassion whenever someone was down and out. A devout Catholic, Christina mirrored "the waitress [who's] practicing politics while a businessman slowly gets stoned". And the boozers and losers put bread in her jar, and said, "Gal, what are you doing here?"
By joining O.U.T.R.A.G.E., Christina had found a whole new purpose in life. Her creative flair and organizational skills served her well on the island of St. Kitts as she spearheaded a group studying the impact of state and federal government spending. Some things just didn't make sense to Christina's level of down-to-earth logic.
"Look at the BMV," she barked to her clan of researchers one day. "What sense does it make? State governments figured out that renewing drivers' licenses and getting new vehicle license plates every year were great, renewable sources of revenue. So they made it mandatory that everyone must renew their drivers' license and renew their vehicle tags every year. Then, the state builds - or rents - dozens of BMV offices at a cost of millions of dollars to the taxpayers! So, to cover the costs of all those fuckin' offices, the state has to raise the cost of license plates! How fuckin' stupid is that?" With today's technologies, Christina argued, the state could close all those BMV offices, saving taxpayers billions of dollars, and reducing the cost of doing business. License plates could be sold with each new car; the plate would stay with the car permanently, and each owner of the car would be required to mail in an annual renewal fee. Drivers' license could be renewed on home computers; if you didn't have a computer at home, you could go to the local library or a school for access to the state's online system. This was just example of the blatant misuse of tax dollars that was going on in every state in the Union, as well as at the federal level. Christina's committee had one central mission: expose all this fraud, and offer common-sense solutions that would minimize taxpayers' costs for such services. "The idea isn't to reduce revenues to the state," Christina explained. "The idea is to minimze costs to those of us who end up paying for all this bureaucratic structure." By keeping a plate with a car, the state didn't have to pay for more license plates to be manufactured. "And what the hell is up with these damn designer plates?" Christina bellowed. "Why do we need to pay to have some graphic arts studio 'design' a new plates that costs extra? Making license plates is a job that can easily be performed by prison inmates!"
Before the Noember elections, her group would have a comprehensive outline in place offering simplistic changes in the way government bureaucracies were managed. Mismanagement, fraud, incompetence, and sheer financial waste would no longer be acceptable methodologies. Accountability to every single taxpayer dollar would become commonplace. Any politician wishing to become a candidate in the November elections would have to subscribe to such idealogy. Period.
The brash, chain-smoking red head held court over her committee with the same tactless intensity over which she kept her barfly customers in line. Her unique blend of sensuality, soft-heartedness and pragmatic realism instilled a sense of respect and abject fear into the hearts and minds of those with whom she interacted. She was one tough cookie, and no one would ever see this cookie crumble.