The Coffee Party—Imagine

The past several weeks have made it evident that the conservative economic agenda has been ruling the roost in Washington. The Tea Party had the rowdiest microphone, and if you thought it was too loud, you were a traitor, a communist or both. Under no circumstances they would have kept you as their Facebook friend.

In consequence, several high school dropouts decided to “take our country back” from the extreme right, and form the Coffee Party. The charter was written in a hurry, as a Facebook note; no time was left checking for spelling errors—“We take our coffee black and strong. No milk, no sugar and No Compromise,” because “We, the people, hate low taxes. The Tea Party calls for no more taxes on the rich; we call for a rate equal to 100% on this filthy bunch. We strive for sizeable membership, but we adopt the Tea Party’s unwritten rule—you will be disqualified if you have studied or practiced economics, or even if you took an Incomplete in Economics 101. If you did, you represent the elite; you think too logically; your ideas are not original, since some experts have already stated them. And you may even be an intellectual; shame, shame shame…”

The coffee party did not pick a single leader. They picked two—a recently married gay couple, Bob and Clarence, who were in the process of adopting twin Muslim boys from Pakistan.

In their first rally in the New York Village, Bob took to the microphone, proclaiming the coffee party’s manifesto.

“We, the people, (yes, we are the people) demand the ouster of this capitalist president. Mr. Obama has tried to impersonate a liberal, but we have uncovered the truth. He is not an illegal alien; he is not a secret Muslim, nor is he a secret communist… He is not a real pure Black man either…” Bob took a deep breath, let out a long sigh … “Mr. Obama is a secret White Republican from Mississippi.”

The crowd burst into thunderous applauds. The loud noise masked one mousy woman’s call for hijacking the Democratic Party. She would try again when the air cools a bit. A bouncer named Chicko from the Union came up with a slogan, “Welfare is the name. Taxes is the game.” The crowd loved it; they kept rapping it in a bouncing rhythm for seventeen long minutes.

Bob turned to Clarence, his hoarse voice electrocuted by the excitement. “Take over, my lover; tell them,” he said.

“They say the budget deficit is too high,” Clarence lectured. “I say, let it go higher. They say ObamaCare is bad; forcing everyone to buy health insurance is unconstitutional. We agree it’s bad; it did not go far enough; force them to have it… free of charge. They say budget cuts spawn economic growth; we say, only if a McDonald’s four-times-daily Big Mac fries and soda makes you lose weight. They say Keynesian economics is European logic. We say, let’s replace it with Asian logic like the one revealed by Mao Tse Tung.”

The steady rain was getting more intense. It was about to turn into a sweeping thunderstorm. The crowd was dispersing, looking for cover at the nearest McDonald’s. Clarence grabbed the mic for the final time. “They convinced S&P to downgrade us from AAA to AA+; we will do even better,” he yelled. “Once we take over, S&P will have no choice but to reverse their decision. They will take us all the way from AAA to WTF.”

The thunderstorm turned into a devastating tornado. Bob and Clarence were sucked up by the wind, then dropped to their horrific death, ending their campaign.

On CNN, Michele Bachman announced, “It was God’s punishment. God is Great…God is obviously a Tea Party Republican. I know because he talks to me,” she confirmed. “Not only these two weirdoes were gay; they were liberal communists who thought they represented the people. May God bring more justice…May God bless the Tea Party…Allahu Akbar.”

Really? All the way to WTF?