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Washington politicians resign in mass exodus

From the Politics Grp with functors congress, history, law, mystery, and poverty

As the third week of the Red Dawn draws nearer ever since Senator Clinton (John Wilkes Booth) assassinated Senator Obama (Abraham “Log” Lincoln), senators have begun to resign and leave their normally regal duties in an alarming mass exodus. “It’s like rats abandoning a sinking ship,” says Harvey Think, University of Napoleon Bonaparte political analyst.

When questioned, the senators would only skitter and fritter, squeaking awfully to the tune of a million sorrows. “That’s normal,” said Harvey. “We found the English language abandoned the Senate chambers in around 1988 after one senator ended one too many a sentence with a preposition.” He looks away, and something glitters in his eye. “Ever since, it’s been a champion of the people than these old souls that sit upon this graven hill.” Damn descriptivists.

And where are these Senators going? Many of them have disappeared or died as they attempt to integrate with society. Most are run over by cars, unaware of streets and roads. “They’re usually called Asphalt Pathways on the Senate floor due to a mistake made in a 1722 Senate procedure law so most senators cannot navigate roads, highways, or most other ground transportation.” If not run over, most starve, unable to scavenge for food in the circles they walk around Congress, circles that grow increasingly deep and wide as if a gigantic moat is being built separating our legislative branch of government from everybody else.

As such, many senatorial outreach programs have sprung up over the last week dedicated to finding senators in need and reeducating them. Most have exited these programs espousing contrarian and revolutionary views, leading many to suspect these programs to be run by Mob X, notorious underground undergrounder who aims to control such things. Still, it’s a small incident compared to when the Supreme Court justices left on the Strike of 1599. Upon exposure to the salty, sunny air, all the justices exploded violently, letting loose eons and eons of dust upon New Jersey, Massachusetts, Maryland, Virginia, New York, and even as far as Papua New Guinea. Widely believed to have caused the 17th century mini-Ice Age, the senators prompted the immortal Founding Fathers—living on nothing but the froth of the sea—added a clause to the Constitution forcing Supreme Justices to serve out their terms under the penalty of death.

On the Yucatan Peninsula, Hurricane Dean uncovers the Incan Civilization

From the Weather Grp with functors archaeology, camouflage, disasters, escape, and history

In a stunning, glorious turn of events, Hurricane Dean led nearby archaeologists in Peru to discover the thriving, modern Incan civilization long thought to be lost after Spanish conquistadors arrived, smothering their language with easy pronunciation and their nostrils with organic salsa. The archaeologists immediately held a press conference on a sacred burial ground, proclaiming, “Today is a great day for people interested in prodding these indigenous people with diseases and instruments and sadness. Too long have these people played Hide and Go Seek and won; today we win.” as they trampled over expensive steam-punk machinery and children. Says one, “Apparently, they were hidden under an extensive network of forestry and fauna. Totally by accident; I’m sure they’re glad we discovered them thanks to our hard work.” Hurricane Dean could not be reached for an interview, citing extreme fury, indignation, and “betrayal.”

When questioned, the Incans groaned. “It took a century to pull off the last disappearance, and it’s going to be such a pain to retrieve those plans from our state-of-art archival library located next to the flying car mechanic shop and our Helioport.” One woman speculated they might try going to another country. “How’s Darfur? Nobody in the West pays attention to Darfur, right? That should tide us for the next five hundred years.” The Incans went to their collective attics and pulled out the banners from last time to hang, dusting off centuries of age and regret. “We don’t have any fucking gold,” said one banner. Another, “Please stop sneezing.”

“Have you ever thought about tourism?” I asked. “No, the Vikings proved that idea would never work. Boy, they are a rowdy bunch.” “Don’t you mean were?” “Uh, yeah.” The man I was interviewing then hid a curious horned helmet behind his back. When I asked to see it, he stabbed me with them. As I woke up in their hypermodern hospital, attached to wireless IV drips, I pondered the fate of this ancient civilization. Where would they go next? How do they cure impotence? The future awaits.

“No it doesn’t!” screams an Incan child running away with his family. The hospital is deserted for the Incans have packed their bags again. Without anyone to operate my medical treatment, it’s getting blurry now. Blink. Blink.