Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

You Can’t Fool Me, There Is No Do-Over Clause

washington_constitutional_convention_1787

“I call the Constitutional Convention to order! Order! Gentlemen, put down your snuff. Dammit, Franklin, put away the dirty pamphlets. Order! Now: it is time for a vote on the final wording of the Second Article, which refers to the Executive branch. All in favor?”

“Point of order, General Washington?”

“Oh, not again, Jenkins.”

“I beg only a moment of my distinguished colleagues’ attention before they vote.”

“One moment.”

“Thank you, sir. Gentlemen, I speak to you once again about inserting what I call “the Do-Over Clause” into Article II. General, have you ever locked your keys in the car–”

“Locked my keys in the car? Its 1787, Jenkins.”

“You didn’t let me finish. Have you ever locked your keys in the carriage?”

“Ah, now you’re making sense. Yes! As a matter of fact, just the other day. Terrible. Had to be carried to work by my slaves.”

“That’s horrible, General.”

“It was! I was an hour late!”

“Yes, well: do you recall that moment, General, when you realized that you had left the keys inside but before the door had shut? Stretched out forever, didn’t it? Now, sir, what if there were some sort of catch, or stopper, installed on the hinge that would prevent you from making such a mistake? Something that took into account that sometimes people act foolishly, and that accidents will happen.”

“That is an excellent idea, Jenkins. You should invent that. Oh, and invent television. The past is so boring.”

“I’ll get on it. So you agree that it is perhaps a worthy idea for humans to recognize their own stupidity and take that into account when designing the system?”

“I do, yes.”

“Good! Good, because what I propose is precisely that. What if–and this will certainly never, ever, ever happen–the people elect a racist maniac with the attention span of a dead ferret?”

“Racist? What the fuck is that?”

“Forget I said racist.”

“It’s 1787. That’s not a thing.”

“Strike it from the record.”

“And even if it were, I’m not racist.”

“No, General Washington.”

“Some of my best slaves are black.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s get back to the discussion. So–and, again, this is so unlikely as to be laughable–this man elected is a fiend, sir. Unknowledgeable, and will take no counsel. He abuses others’ credit, and is a bankrupt. A braggart who gabs like a washerwoman, he surrounds himself with cutthroats. A man with neither rival nor opponent, only enemy. Patently false in his words; demonstrably inept in his actions. A man not worthy of the country we build here today sir.”

“How the hell would he get elected?”

“I know, right? Never gonna happen!”

“Are you drunk, Jenkins?”

“Yes, sir: we all are.”

“Right, right. Maybe we should put a note in the Constitution mentioning that the guys who wrote it were shitfaced at the time.”

“Worth considering, sir. Back to the topic, sir.”

“Tell me more about this man.”

“He loves foreign entanglements.”

“Bastard.”

“And he belongs to a political party.”

“MotherFUCKER.”

“Y’know, Jenkins: it’s like no one listens.”

“Yes, General Washington. But the Do-Over Clause would allow for a re-vote if the country realized it had made a mistake right after Election Day.”

“And what would be the precipitating incident for this clause of yours, Jenkins? Must have some sort of trigger for this to occur, otherwise every losing candidate will be clamoring for it the morning of his loss.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve thought of that, sir. What if it only happens when the victor takes the Electoral College, but not the popular vote?”

“Well, that will never happen, either! Stop talking balderdash and phooey, Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although, to be fair, it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the Constitution.”

“No, sir. That would be the wording of the Second Amendment.”

“If ever there were a situation that called for a straightforward sentence, that was it.”

“It’s just four vaguely-related subordinate clauses.”

“Ah. Well. Too late to change it, and too late for your proposal, Jenkins.”

“Too late? Why?”

“Can’t edit parchment. Everything’s already written down very fancily. And the budget’s tapped.”

“So we’re leaving the document as it is because there’s nothing left in the calligraphy budget?”

“Essentially.”

“God bless America, General Washington.”

“You’re welcome.”

4 Comments

  1. Do you guys take requests? More of this please.

  2. Now is the test of the boomerang

  3. Luther Von Baconson

    November 17, 2016 at 3:08 pm

    looks like George might be playing a little 3-Treatise Monte

    “nothin’ up my sleeve gents”

    & the Adlai Stevenson Guy in Green & Warren Zevon beside him. what’re they up to?

  4. Pretty sure the results would come out the same. Stupid is the new norm and the internet provides the info to achieve it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

*