Sybaritic lifestyles aside, there was work to be done....and only about twenty days remaining before the new U.S. Congress was sworn in and put to work for the people. New Year's Day, 2009 was just another work day for the tens of thousands of O.U.T.R.A.G.E. volunteers. The O.U.T.R.A.G.E. planes that had brought everyone to the Bakers' New Year's Eve party were now returning hungover revelers to their camps to continue their respective missions.
The Patrick-Patrick team was still out west campaigning for the legalization of drugs; Doc was still in the Midwest driving the campaign toward the legalization of gaming machines, and eliminating insipid smoking bans placed on bars and restaurants in many regions of the country. The AROB group (Adams, Ryan, Oetting and Baker) and their hardy crew of campaigners were dispatched all over the south and the east, arranging for the upcoming January 20th swearing-in ceremonies. Candidates would be sworn in at designated locales in front of the constituents who voted them into office. They would be required to take an oath of poverty, and promise to serve the people instead of becoming sycophantic apple-polishers to wealthy and influential campaign contributors. It would be a day of reckoning for American politics with no corruptive, monopolistic Republican and Democratic parties calling the shots. O.U.T.R.A.G.E. computer technicians were installing sophisticated systems that would accurately and instantaneously record votes for all the referendums that would be presented to the people. Those votes would be transmitted to each candidate, and the new U.S. Congress would create the language that would, in turn, become the law of the land. There would be no opportunity for politicians to sneak in their own pet 'pork' projects, nor would there be any chance of filibustering or long-winded, worthless debate. Members of Congress were now simple public servants, mechanics who would formalize the people's mandates into law instead of trying to manipulate those public wishes into something beneficial for themselves and their benefactors.
When the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. lime-green plane delivered Jil, Michelle, Sally, Lynn, Dana, Connie, Chris, Suzan, Clem and a handful of others to the Indianapolis airport, a lime-green O.U.T.R.A.G.E. bus was waiting to return them to the Canterbury Hotel, Jil's headquarters for all her O.U.T.R.A.G.E. business. It was 10:30 Thursday morning, January 1, 2009, when Sally suggested, "Let's have a bit of the hair of the dog that bit us!" The bar in the elegant conference room was "open for business" and the whole clutter of barely-sober hellraisers were back at it - again. By 3:30 that afternoon, there was no need for anyone to go to their rooms to recuperate; most had passed out on the floor, atop the massive conference table, or into the plush leather chairs that comfortably lined the room's perimeters. With all the partying, it was amazing that anyone ever got anything done!
But, by 8:00 that evening, most of the group had come to life and decided to pull an 'all-nighter' - this time they would actually keep the bar closed and knuckle down to the work which was at hand. Jil presided over the meeting, and - somewhat surprisingly - managed to bring a cohesive order to the chaos. It was almost midnight Thursday when "Hammy" called with some distressing news: for the second time in about a month, he'd run his lime-green O.U.T.R.A.G.E. bus off the road, this time on a slippery slope near the edge of Absaroka Range, just southeast of Yellowstone National Park on Highway 26, a few miles outside of Dubois, Wyoming. "We're stranded here," he reported, "until this weasel mechanic can order the parts he needs to get the bus running again. I think I busted an axle or something. But, no worries, brotha' - the Hamster man's got it all under control, and I've already found some dude who can get me some premo gaunchey! I think things are gonna' be alright and outta sight! We'll catch ya' on the flip-side, my brothas! Lova ya', Babe..." With that his cell phone went dead, probably due to the severe weather conditions coming out of the
The Patrick-Patrick team was still out west campaigning for the legalization of drugs; Doc was still in the Midwest driving the campaign toward the legalization of gaming machines, and eliminating insipid smoking bans placed on bars and restaurants in many regions of the country. The AROB group (Adams, Ryan, Oetting and Baker) and their hardy crew of campaigners were dispatched all over the south and the east, arranging for the upcoming January 20th swearing-in ceremonies. Candidates would be sworn in at designated locales in front of the constituents who voted them into office. They would be required to take an oath of poverty, and promise to serve the people instead of becoming sycophantic apple-polishers to wealthy and influential campaign contributors. It would be a day of reckoning for American politics with no corruptive, monopolistic Republican and Democratic parties calling the shots. O.U.T.R.A.G.E. computer technicians were installing sophisticated systems that would accurately and instantaneously record votes for all the referendums that would be presented to the people. Those votes would be transmitted to each candidate, and the new U.S. Congress would create the language that would, in turn, become the law of the land. There would be no opportunity for politicians to sneak in their own pet 'pork' projects, nor would there be any chance of filibustering or long-winded, worthless debate. Members of Congress were now simple public servants, mechanics who would formalize the people's mandates into law instead of trying to manipulate those public wishes into something beneficial for themselves and their benefactors.
When the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. lime-green plane delivered Jil, Michelle, Sally, Lynn, Dana, Connie, Chris, Suzan, Clem and a handful of others to the Indianapolis airport, a lime-green O.U.T.R.A.G.E. bus was waiting to return them to the Canterbury Hotel, Jil's headquarters for all her O.U.T.R.A.G.E. business. It was 10:30 Thursday morning, January 1, 2009, when Sally suggested, "Let's have a bit of the hair of the dog that bit us!" The bar in the elegant conference room was "open for business" and the whole clutter of barely-sober hellraisers were back at it - again. By 3:30 that afternoon, there was no need for anyone to go to their rooms to recuperate; most had passed out on the floor, atop the massive conference table, or into the plush leather chairs that comfortably lined the room's perimeters. With all the partying, it was amazing that anyone ever got anything done!
But, by 8:00 that evening, most of the group had come to life and decided to pull an 'all-nighter' - this time they would actually keep the bar closed and knuckle down to the work which was at hand. Jil presided over the meeting, and - somewhat surprisingly - managed to bring a cohesive order to the chaos. It was almost midnight Thursday when "Hammy" called with some distressing news: for the second time in about a month, he'd run his lime-green O.U.T.R.A.G.E. bus off the road, this time on a slippery slope near the edge of Absaroka Range, just southeast of Yellowstone National Park on Highway 26, a few miles outside of Dubois, Wyoming. "We're stranded here," he reported, "until this weasel mechanic can order the parts he needs to get the bus running again. I think I busted an axle or something. But, no worries, brotha' - the Hamster man's got it all under control, and I've already found some dude who can get me some premo gaunchey! I think things are gonna' be alright and outta sight! We'll catch ya' on the flip-side, my brothas! Lova ya', Babe..." With that his cell phone went dead, probably due to the severe weather conditions coming out of the
posted by Bushwacker! at 9:18 AM
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