December 26, 2008
by Volt and Electra Penn

 | Comment on the Blog

Not only is our nearest neighbor a retired anthropology professor, but Dr. Claude Hamlett raises llamas, those haughty beasts that spend a lot of time with their nose in the air. But what comes out their other end is not your ordinary fertilizer. It's the cleanest, sweetest smelling dung north of the equator.

For the last few years I've been shoveling Claude's llama beans into my raised vegetable beds, which this year produced cabbages as big as Dolly Parton's fun bags. For some unknown reason, unlike previous cabbages which were as round as basketballs, these leafy green heads are torpedo shaped footballs.

Yesterday, I passed one of the elongated cabbages over the fence to Claude.  He held the green monster in both hands, and after one of his usual thought-filled pauses, said, ".finally someone made him duck."

Of course Claude was referring to the famous shoe-throwing incident in Iraq, where George Bush finally confronted his own personal Weapon of Missed Destruction.

"How does a size 10 black leather oxford miss a size 1 pinhead?" I asked, peeling off several green cabbage leaves to waive-off a hungry llama.

"It is too bad," Claude said, smiling, "that those handsome Ducati soles were demolished in the process."

I turned to leave on that note, and left Claude holding the bag---of spinach that is, along with two cabbages, a head of broccoli, and eight llamas cued up in single file.

Because of its odor when cooked, cabbage has been a maligned vegetable. Rich in Vitamin C, the lowly cabbage contains numerous anti-inflammatory and stimulus properties. So, every year when a new crop arrives, I eat lots of cabbage in soups, stew, slaws and even raw. And to preserve cabbage for future healthy eating, I make sauerkraut.

An hour after the fence meeting with Claude, I was slicing and coring cabbage in my kitchen, running the roughage through a food processor, then mixing the shredded cabbage by hand with sea salt, sliced carrots, juniper berries and onions. Except for the berries and sea salt, everything in the mix was grown in llama beans for maximum results.

After tightly packing the newly minted kraut in a 10 gallon ceramic crock, I placed a double bagged baggie full of brine-water in the container to hold the veggie mix under the cabbages' own juice.

Since it would take 3-4 weeks before I could enjoy the delicious product of natural fermentation, I settled back with Sunday's paper to read about Aretha Franklin, the queen of 60's soul who had been drafted to spice up Obama's inauguration program.

"Did you know Aretha changed her tune?" Electra asked, coming in the kitchen after all the mess was cleaned up. "First she wanted to show a little 'Respect', but 'Rescue Me' won out."  

"Was it because of Pastor Rick Warren?" I said.

For the last 30 years every president has had an in-house preacher, and instead of Jeremiah Wright, Pastor Rick Warren of the Saddleback Church, in Lake Forest, California has been chosen to be President Obama's Billy Graham.

"Ah, yes, Rick has already sanded off the 'I Hate Queers' tattoo on his backside," Electra said. "He's also composing a kick-ass kiss-ass national prayer that will include freedom of choice for women, blessings for gays, transvestites and transgendered unions."

(Article Continues Below)

"And what happens after all the inaugural parties and celebrations?" I asked.

"Oh, President Obama will create the National Feel Good Bureau headed by the Czar of I Feel Good."

"Electra, James Brown is no more."

"Then Little Richard will have to fill in."

That means next year, no matter if you're unemployed, underemployed or under a bridge, the screamer from Macon, Georgia will sharpen his pencil-thin mustache to be in charge of making everybody feel good. Bop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-bop-bam-boom!

Once we've gone digital and those little black boxes are soldered to our sets, get ready for 30 second TV spots full of cheery people dancing to the tune of 'Tutti Frutti'. There'll be glowing reports of 'I've-got-a-government-job', from down-home Joe's filling in this country's potholes and changing the light-bulbs at the federal courthouse. 

Secretary of the Treasury Timothy Geithner will appear on our TV screens holding up a dividend check. But oops, look closer and notice it's a worthless piece of paper issued by a defunct bankrupt bank. Keep looking and see that the check is also undated and unsigned.

"This is your money," Tim tells us, while pointing to a flow chart, "sitting right there in the pipeline. But right now the tube is constipated."

At the end of the line will be a Disney goofy figure of a smiling Mr. John Q. Taxpayer, his upturned face and his wallet open wide waiting for the money valve to release all the U.S. I.O.U.'s. 

Brought to you by the governing administration of feel good, this commercial will end with a 'Good Golly Miss Molly' band of roving reporters popping up all over the U.S. taking snapshots of Americans whistling a happy tune.

What we won't hear or see from the director of the governmental department of propaganda is the hardcore news: mushrooming tent cities, food riots, the desperate homeless and how a secret government works behind the scenes to manipulate trillions of taxpayer dollars for the greedy 'Haves' at the top.

I'd venture to guess that the most popular program won't be on TV, but on YouTube. There, millions of Americans will be seen throwing their worn out Payless shoes at images of President Obama.