When we last visited the Galaxians, the big battle was about “healthcare.” Who has it? Who may not have it? Who may lose it? This healthcare boondoggle could be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

Suddenly Galaxians who had, for the most part, sat back on their sofas as their country was being invaded by “non-citizens,” while corruption ran rampant through business and political circles, found an issue. “It will be a cold day in hell before my right to choose my healthcare is taken away!” They were so riled up that one Senator had to bring her mommy along to protect her from her constituents!” The constituents were not impressed. She asked the poignant question: “Don’t you trust me?” They answered resoundingly in the negative. She fled the scene.

Remember Sir SAL? Sir Spends A Lot, leader of the Galaxians consulted with his Galaxian czars and other advisors. It was decided that since Galaxian Senators and Congresspersons were making a mish mash of these healthcare townhall meets and greets, it was time for the master communicator to get out there and communicate! The Teleprompters got a spit and polish sprucing up, and were loaded with the appropriately nuanced words, designed to serve as an opiate for the populace. Sir Sal was ready!

It all started off well. No Teleprompters crashed to the ground as happened in a previous meet and persuade. The rhetoric was flowing until Sir SAL mentioned about folks in Washington getting “all wee, wee’d up” in August and September. The Google searches began. Is this the same thing as getting high on “pharmaceuticals?” If so, no wonder not much good comes out of Galaxy Land DC, no matter what time of year it is! Sir Sal’s Teleprompters need to get better comedy writers. The “wee, wee’d up” moment came right on the heels of the Post Office, UPS, and FedEx” comparison, in trying to sell healthcare. Some Galaxians felt that this was a “don’t go there” analogy. Personally, this Galaxian loves her Postal Clerks, who are the best, and would not trade them in for any number of UPS-ers or FedEx-ers!

In between “wee-weeing” all over the healthcare debate, Sir SAL turned his attention to enlisting the help of ‘holy water,” dispensed by men of God, who in addition to granting their flock’s desire to “tell me the stories of Jesus,” were to “tell them the stories of healthcare.” Galaxians are finding out that their “savior/messiah” masterfully knows how to reach out and recruit religious leaders to preach the glories of government healthcare! The obligatory ads featuring the conscripted leaders have begun. “What would Jesus do?” Why, he would look to government to provide healthcare, and send followers looking for the nearest government-run clinic! Actually, He did not. When the real Messiah walked the earth, He did His own healing, all without the need of a health card. He even provided meals, free of charge, along with the healing. There will never be another like Him.

So this healthcare thing is not going so well, but at least the “Cash for Clunkers” idea borrowed from earthlings, is a smashing success, in every sense of the word “smashing!” Un-rev that engine, while we examine the success, shall we? If “success” is defined in terms of running out of cash, then yes it is. “Cash for Clunkers,” burned through $3 billion in less than three months. Now come those “doomers and gloomers” who are declaring that the cost of getting rid of those clunkers is an expensive way of ridding the galaxy of CO2 gases. They are even predicting that some proud new owners of the “clunker-less” vehicles, may have a difficult time paying the monthly vehicle payments, if companies don’t stop shedding an average of about half a million jobs per month.

Instead of focusing this negative spotlight on the efforts of the Galaxian Ruling Class, let’s be more positive. With a now established track record in taking over hitherto private industries, and setting up “cash for everything and everyone” programs, the Galaxian leaders may very well come up with a “cash for new vehicles” program. It would work something like this. Bring in the new vehicle for which you can no longer afford the payments, to a Government Motors lot, and walk away with a new vehicle that resembles your kid’s toy car. You and your progeny will be driving side by side, he or she with the toy car, and you with the “real” car looking a lot like the kid’s car, and not capable of driving much faster than it! Bringing families together....that’s the ticket! This “bonding by vehicle” is a lot better than forcing said progeny to pay for all of those bailout bingos!

The only “fly in the ointment” could be these now riled up Galaxians. They are in no mood to be further mistreated. Prior to “healthcare-gate,” they had become almost inured to the cynicism with which they had been treated by their rulers. They had accepted that there was a double standard.

Let’s say, Rueben Plebe cheated on his wife? In Plebe Quarters, Mrs. Rueben Plebe rarely pledged her undying love after such betrayal, never mind “standing by her man!” Someone or something will be dying and it won’t be her! But when Mr. Ruling Class politician cheats on Mrs. Ruling Class wife of politician, she stands next to his side as he pledges his duty, not love for her, and his duty to his constituents. Mrs. Ruling Class wife of politician, does not envision giving up the pension, pads (houses), and other perks, so she stoically stands at his side, while he delivers his mea culpa, which is not really “I am a sorry excuse for a human being,” but a rationale for continuing to feed at the public trough. After Episode 888, one Galaxian female declared: If I were one of his constituents, with his record of “service,” I would not want to be in a meeting room alone with him!

Galaxians had also grown accustomed to those Ruling Class members who “facilitate” large sums of money between “parties of interest,” with a pot of gold at the end of that transaction rainbow, for the transactor/politician. Want a shopping mall, but some constituents are physically in the way, with their so-called family home, with precious memories and memorabilia? No problem. Mr. & Mrs. “Memories are made of this,” you have 30 days to cart off those memories. Make like you never lived there!

Want an airport, along a “road less traveled?” No problem. Put Mr. Ruling Class Politician’s name on it. Don’t worry about the financing. That is what those things called earmarks are for. You put the “mark” of Mr. politician/facilitator on the building and Mr. P/F will get those marks, I mean taxpayers to foot the bill. Pound for pound, building for dollars, you could not get a better value!

Standards of measurement, such as “cream of the crop,” “best of the best,” had outgrown their value, as the members of the Galaxy Ruling Class descended into more and more debauchery. Trustworthiness began to be measured on a much lower rated scale of “least evil of a bunch of evil wizards and villains.” Galaxians no longer winced when they heard the expression: “How do you know when a politician is lying? When his or her lips are moving!” That was as good a guidepost as any, and had stood the test of lies.

There was a fear that Galaxians were in danger of becoming estranged from the history and the country of the Founding Galaxians, who paved the way for Galaxy Land to ascend to the exalted state of that of a “shining galaxy atop of all galactic orbs,” and indeed, all earthly orbs. Slowly and inexorably, many of the present day Galaxians had come around to believing that there is a “natural” order, flaunted in acknowledged dictatorships, which Galaxy Land should emulate.

In this “natural order” structure, there is to be a relatively small elite Ruling Class presiding over a vast number, 300 million or so plebes. These plebes are to reproduce (within reason), provide cannon fodder for the occasional war worth fighting, shut up and pay assigned taxes (while being assigned more and more), and be willingly exploited, er utilized, as deemed fit, for the State. This “natural order” structure is a great structure...if one is atop the pyramid.

Ah, the “cannon fodder.” What would Galaxy Land be without them? They are part of the philosophy of “shared sacrifice,” with a twist. They are the only ones doing the “sharing.” These “sharers,” or “sheared” ones, generally the plebes, kept sacrificing their sons and daughters, not on an altar to a bloodthirsty god, but in lands far away, where the favorite “sport” of the natives, is to separate heads from bodies, or strap bombs to bodies and blow up everything and everybody.

The “fortunate” sons and daughters return, with most body parts intact, only to find that in Galaxy Land, they are now considered potential domestic terrorists, by virtue of having served their country outside of Galaxy Land. They could end up behind bars for doing their jobs too well. Those against whom they fought are “dancing on the ceiling,” and on the streets, just waiting for the majority of the gallant fighter sons and daughters of Galaxy Land to end up incarcerated or dead.

Well, Galaxians have had enough. They stood silently by as the Galaxian czars piled up. They stared mutely as their car companies became Galaxian government entities. They averted their eyes as rights, normally reserved for Galaxians, were conveyed to anti-Galaxians, even to the detriment of Galaxian soldiers, beginning with the island paradise of Galaxy Bay. No more.

Galaxians decided to piggy back on the efforts of those hard-headed patriots known as the “T.E.A partiers,” who instead of sitting in their parlors, sipping tea, were out there sweating and carrying signs, trying to get the Galaxian Ruling Class to listen. Galaxians descended on those townhall meetings put on by some members of the Ruling Class, the ones, give them credit, who were not too terrified of the awakened Galaxians. The “partiers and townhallers” are taking their inspiration from the first “domestic terrorists,” Galaxian Founding Fathers, who showed the despot of their times, how a thirst for liberty can build physical strength and moral fortitude, never mind “testicular fortitude,” which even the women of those times, possessed!