Guest Post: An Economic Fairy Tale

Tyler Durden's picture

Submitted by Brandon Smith of Alt-Market blog,

Once upon a time there lived an independent and industrious people in a land called Ameristan deep in the realm of Middle Income.  Their kingdom was unlike any other recorded in the ancient histories, primarily because they had no “king”.  Instead, the Ameristanians had decided long ago that kings were much more trouble than they were worth, and, using cost/benefit ratio analysis, came to the conclusion that it was better to hang such ambitious power mongers by their necks and govern themselves instead.  Unfortunately, many generations had passed, and the revolutionary fire of Ameristan had grown tired and dormant.  Eventually, many of the people began to forget where they had come from…

One man, a humble farmer and proud father by the name of Finn, had not forgotten.  He had noticed well the fact that the citizenry had grown complacent and dependent upon the welfare of the Council Of Elders, who were once honorable and installed by the vote of the people, but whose actions now seemed indifferent or even hostile.  Being a private merchant, he took careful note of the extreme decline in the country’s production capabilities, which had been outsourced to less freedom loving nations of goblins and imps in the West who, dominated by their masters, were willing to work for almost nothing if only to be given a reprieve from being savagely beaten with bamboo sticks.  He noticed that most of the craftsmen were disappearing, replaced by grinning lycanthropic salesmen and simpering mole people who clung to any terrible brand of remedial employment they could find, no matter how demeaning or low paying.  Ameristan had become a land of Unicorn-burger flippers, Swamp Banshee back washers, Dwarf tossers, Jabberwocky jugglers, Bugbear shavers, etc.  They were like the peasants of the old days; beggars, thieves, and slaves.

Fairy Commie Control Freaks

When Finn’s taxes were suddenly raised by a shocking margin after being labeled a “wealthy recipient” of Ameristan’s good favor, he began to question whether his loyalties were well placed.  He certainly didn’t feel “wealthy”, though he had worked his fingers raw to make his farm moderately successful.  It was as if he was being punished for doing things right.  He would sometimes complain to the Fairies which buzzed about the now oversized town of Califinington near his farm, but they never took him very seriously.  Fairies were predisposed to collectivist thinking and most of them believed that it was only right that everyone should be required to “share” their wealth with everyone else.

“But shouldn’t I be allowed to share only with the people I feel deserve my charity..?” Finn argued with one particularly snobbish fairy at Dingledob’s Market.

Absolutely not!” scoffed the fairy as she rummaged through her designer handbag and popped a valium.  “What if you didn’t like harpies but the harpies needed financial support?”

“…But I DON’T like harpies…”

The fairy grinned as if somehow victorious in her argument.  “There, you see! You are prejudiced, and this hurts the Harpies.  If you aren’t made to give them a percentage of your earnings then they might starve to death!”

“Can’t the harpies start their own farms and feed themselves?”  He reasoned.

“Don’t be silly!” the fairy laughed.  “Harpies don’t know how to farm.  Besides, they are historically mistreated by farmers, and therefore, you owe them.”

“I’ve never mistreated a harpy, they just get on my nerves with all the screeching and food stealing.”

“It doesn’t matter.  We have to presume that one of your distant dirty farmer ancestors had something nefarious to do with the plight of the harpies, and so, by attrition, we must tax you like rabid fleas on the juicy ass of a sheepdog!  Good day!”  And with that curt remark the fairy flittered away.

Farmer Finn didn’t get it.  How was it any of the fairy’s business how his money was spent?  How was it the business of the Council Of Elders for that matter?  He understood local taxation because he and the people of the region were directly benefiting from the local infrastructure.  But most of his taxes did not go to his own town.  They went to the central authority and were spent in ways he couldn’t understand or didn’t agree with in the slightest.  In fact, it seemed that half of his profits were being devoured like a barbecued horse at a gathering of Balrogs.  National expenses that didn’t really appear to benefit anyone were draining the citizenry of every last penny.

The most painful weight upon Finn’s mind, however, was his realization that there were more and more destitute harpies, fairies, wendigos, mothmen, etc. everyday.  And his taxes kept rising in accordance with the multitudes of needy open hands.  Eventually, he decided, there will come a time when he and people like him would be made destitute as well because the cycle would never end.  No matter how high the taxes were raised, the problem would never be solved because spending always increased in tandem, and government would always mismanage the funds.  He would have to continue to pay until there was nothing left.  By the logic that the Council Of Elders were following in their economic policies, it made more sense to not work at all, but instead do absolutely nothing and simply scrape by on government rations.  To be frank, they were forcing him towards such a position anyway.

He decided then and there in front of Dingledob’s that he would go on a quest to the far side of the nation, to find the Council Of Elders and try to explain the dangerous situation.

A Journey Of Economic Misconceptions

Finn followed the wooded road with his young son Saturday by his side.  Carrying only a satchel of food and their walking sticks, they traversed the border of Dinotopia and onwards to Mithgar.  Finn’s son was excited and curious but also very uncertain about the eventual outcome of their adventure.

“Father, what will you say when you meet the Elders?  How will you convince them to change their ways?” the boy questioned, looking doubtful of any success. 

“Do not worry, son.  They are wise and intelligent men.  Surely they will see the advantage of reversing their course.  Once they are shown the calamity ahead, they will no doubt take swift action…”

A large traveler who looked like a warrior clad in animal skins rode his horse in the opposite direction.  They stopped to nod and share a word as was common for travelers to do in these parts.  The warrior seemed generally disinterested.

“Hello, good sir.  That is quite a steed you ride.  Have you just come from the East?”  Finn struck up the conversation.

“What business is it of yours you wormy tomato picker?”  The warrior snapped.

Finn was taken back by the man’s immediate and unprovoked rudeness.

“I was merely curious if the way to the East is clear, sir…”

The warrior grimaced.  “Well it is, but you should be walking in the other direction to the Western border.  There is a war brewing, and all able bodied men of Ameristan should be ready to fight and die for their country!”

Finn couldn’t believe it.  “But our national bank has long been empty!  How could we possibly afford to launch a campaign against a foreign enemy!?”

The warrior chortled, “Har-Har-Har!  Silly little man!  The council has hired private merchants who print paper money for them!  We now have all the money we will ever need!”

“But this makes no sense.  How can the council abandon the tangibility and safety of gold, ‘make’ money from thin air, spend it, and expect the funny-money to retain its value on the open market?  Aren’t they just creating an even larger debt threshold they cannot afford while simultaneously diminishing our purchasing power, creating price increases in all our necessary goods, and destroying our ability to pay the increased taxes they have just thrust upon us?!  The contradictory nature of this financial strategy boggles the mind!”

The warrior scratched his head for a moment and squinted.  “What are you, some kind of fruitcake pansy?  You afraid to fight like a man?”

“Huh?”  Finn was confounded.  “Don’t you see, it doesn’t matter whether you or I think the war is right or wrong.  Our opinions are irrelevant!  We can’t afford the damn thing regardless!  This economic strategy will destroy us more certainly than any foreign army!”

The warrior clenched his teeth angrily and growled.  “Sounds like the excuses of a coward!  Who cares about the cost!  It is an opportunity for glory, that’s all that matters!”

Finn’s son gripped his sleeve, terrified that the warrior would react with a hurricane of sword whirling death, but the large man moved onward in a huff, mumbling under his breath about traitors and weaklings.

“Will I have to go to war soon, father?”  The boy trembled.

“Not a chance in hell…I’ll never let them get their hands on you…”  Finn tried to reassure him, but as he made the promise, he was not entirely certain if he could keep it.

The Bridge Of Cash-And-Doom

The two travelers were growing weary as they approached the only bridge within 20 miles of the city of Burglbag.  The rickety path looked barely functional, its ropes and twine chewed through by swamp rats and feral pixies.  As they neared the first tenuous plank of the cadaverous bridge, a rumbling snort echoed from the cavern below.  A pair of greasy green hands gripped the rocks and clawed their way to the entrance of the bridge.  It was a troll; the most intrusively ugly troll Finn had ever seen (and that was saying something).  The slobbering creature hissed and the foul odor of musty loincloth filled the air.     

“No one crosses the bridge without paying the toll!  By order of the Council Of Elders!”

Finn was worried he might have to pay a troll-toll on their journey, but the moment came sooner than he expected. 

“How much is the toll you ghastly money grubbing beast?” 

“Twelve fairybucks, chump!” 

Finn sifted through his money bag and then shook his head, “All I have are gold coins…”

The troll pounded his fist on the bridge causing it to rattle and quake.  “Gold coins are no longer considered legal tender!  Give me fairy bucks or I devour the child like a grape!” 

Finn stood in-between the troll and his son, Saturday.  “Can gold not still be traded for fairybucks?  Doesn’t it retain value because of its rarity?  Isn’t it still treated as a currency in other parts of the world?  Does it not increase in value as fairybucks decrease in value?  Why not still use it as a method of exchange?”

The troll pounded his fist again as dust vibrated off the bridge into the dark pit below, the corners of his mouth frothing, “Arrrggghhh!  Gold is a barbarous relic of a bygone age!  It is time to progress onwards towards modernism and globalization while harmonizing sovereign economies into a single top down economic system led by financiers who, unlike dirt farming morons like yourself, actually grasp the mechanics of money creation and interest rate manipulation while spreading the inherent wealth of the classes more fairly amongst the populace and generating government funded programs of poverty reduction and universal healthcare making everyone fiscally equal!”  He finished his rant and then scratched his crotch proudly.

Finn threw his hands in the air in frustration.  “The only possible ‘equality’ that could result from such a system is equal scarcity.  Increased taxation needed to fund such utopian foolishness always ends in reduced consumption and disrupted small business growth while encouraging government to remove what few limits still exist on its spending.  The only private people who ever benefit are the massive merchant monopolies who sit back while the government crushes all their potential competition through over-regulation and taxation, displacing millions of innovative entrepreneurs in the name of ‘harmonization’!”

“Give me fairybucks or I’ll use your ribs to make a go-cart!”  The troll was beating his fists into the bridge with every utterance.

Finn smiled.  “What if I was to barter with you instead?  Then we could cut the merchants and the Council Of Elders out of the process completely…”

The troll shrieked in horror at the suggestion and jumped in the air.  “And revert back to an agrarian philosophy that should have been abandoned in the Dark Ages?  How dare you...”  As the monster landed the bridge snapped, turning to dust under his feet.  He fell like a snot spewing stone into the black, screaming “barter is an attempt to undermine the legitimacy of fairybucks and is akin to domestic terrorismmmmmmmmm……!!!”  

Saturday stood stunned at what had transpired.  Finn took his shoulder and shook him out of his stupor.  “Don’t worry, son, there’s always another way around.”      

The President Of Pickpocketville

Finally, Finn and son had reached the capital of Ameristan:  Pickpocketville D.C.  He had no idea how he was going to gain an audience with the Council Of Elders, but knew he would find a way.  Upon reaching the capital building, they heard what sounded like the pounding of a mighty drum in the distance.  It grew louder and louder as the ground beneath their feet began to vibrate.  Finn looked around at the bustling citizens of Pickpocketville but none of them seemed to take any notice.  A sun blotting shadow fell upon the street and a giant, a real giant, came into view.  He stopped and yawned, sucking up the oxygen for an entire city block.  Finn thought to himself that he had to be at least a hundred times the size of a normal man.  Surely, if anyone was informed about the landscape of D.C., this fellow was.

“Excuse me, uh…giant, sir, could you tell me how one goes about meeting with the Council Of Elders?” 

The giant looked down and strained his eyes to see Finn.  “The name is Impetus Ramlonious Stump, and I have no time for little men, unless you are here to pay your tax…”

“You are a tax collector…?!”

“Oh yes!  The Elders have seen fit to give us giants an important position in the land.  Can’t be too careful with these tax dodgers you know…”

Finn was astonished.  “Just out of curiosity, what happens when someone refuses to pay the tax?”  

The giant frowned, “We smash them.”

“And…what if someone simply questions the validity of the tax in a public forum?”

“We smash them.”

“Hasn’t anyone in the organization of tax collectors ever argued against the legality of constant taxation of income?”

“Yes, but we fired them………and then we smashed them.”

“I see.  Could you just point me in the direction of the citizen’s forum?”

The giant jerked his tree-like arms to point at a park in the distance.  “You know, if you really want to talk to some of the Elders, the new council leader is giving a speech in the park.  Though, I should warn you it’s probably a waste of time.”    

Finn and Saturday tread quickly away from the behemoth.  “Son, if they are hiring giants to collect taxes and smash dissenters, then we are in more trouble than I thought…”

A great procession was beginning as the travelers reached the park.  An incredible mixture of creatures and people from across the land had gathered around a large stage erected for political representatives, and the crowd waited intently for the next speech.  Finn approached as the new leader of the Council took the podium.  He was a gangly looking Satyr, rather unimpressive in appearance, and a mediocre speaker.  An announcer bellowed as he came on stage.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and mythical creatures, the new Council Leader of Ameristan, Bartok Jumbawumba!” 

“Good evening, Ameristanis!” The satyr grinned widely and uncomfortably as if it was forced.  “We are here because our land is in the midst of a terrible crisis, one which could end in catastrophe if we do not take action!”  The crowd nodded in quiet agreement.  “Now the two factions of the Council Of Elders have been known to have disagreements at times…” The audience chuckled as if that was an understatement.  “…but on this issue we must find common ground.  It is time for a change.  I had a long and fruitful discussion with the head of the opposition party, Rinosis Neoconus, and I think we are beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel.  Cuts in spending will be implemented…someday, but restricting spending today would be disastrous.  Half the economy is being propped up by fiat fairybucks, and if we quit that game now we are really screwed!”

The crowd roared, and Finn realized they were not admonishing Bartok, but cheering him.

“Hell, you idiots don’t even realize you’ve been turned into a nation of parasites, feeding from the bloody scraps of the war-state and clamoring for more goodies paid for with the financial freedom of your children and grandchildren!”

The audience clapped wildly.  Finn felt as if he had wandered into a waking nightmare.

“Yes, that’s right, bend over for those food tickets and healthcare coupons, don’t worry about us elites back here with no pants on!  We’re here to help you, because we love you…like pet fish…”

Bartok raised his hands in the air to rile the crowd.  “One day soon, everything will be free!  We will take care of your every need!  We will bathe you and feed you and tuck you into bed!  We will make you thinner and more desirable to the opposite sex!  We will fulfill your every fantasy while singing show tunes and pole dancing in skimpy lingerie!  And then…we will slather you in spicy mustard and cannibalize your fresh corpses!  May the gods bless Ameristan!”

A tidal wave of cheers and wild hollering ripped through the gathering as thousands of fingers jutted forward just to get a touch of Bartok.  Finn finally understood that his journey had been in vain.  If he did get a chance to speak his mind or relay the disturbing facts of a near future where all is lost, who would listen?  The citizenry was hypnotized, almost fanatical in their support of the system.  Even those who hated Bartok were still seduced by the establishment framework.  Bartok could be replaced and it wouldn’t matter in the slightest.  The problem was not just the council, it was the cultism of the state in general.  No one here was asking the right question:

Should this system exist at all?

Finn decided his only hope was to go to the new financiers of the Ameristan Treasury and plead with them to see the calamity ahead. 

The Wizard’s Chamber

The halls of the private central bank were sterile and immaculate, but also dark and foreboding, giving one a feeling that he was no longer in the land of the living, but a place on the edge of the River Styx, a cleanly waiting room on the way to Hades.  For such a large building, there were very few people.  A clerk would scurry by with his hands full of paperwork every once in a while, but it was hard to tell what was actually done here.  Finally, Finn and Saturday reached a tall pair of ominous doors.  Finn paused, and stepped inside…

“Ah, hello Finn, I’ve been expecting you…”  A wretched looking old man in a cloak and pointy hat stood in the middle of the chamber waiting for him.  “I am sensing that you seek answers…”

“Yes…how did you know?”  Finn said, curiously.

“We make it our business to know your business here, Finn.  We rarely offer a personal audience, but I’m bored today and find your quest to right the wrongs of the realm amusing.”

“Uh, okay.  Well, if you already know what I’m doing here, then you already know what I’m going to say.”

“Yes, basically.”

“So, you are fully aware of the disaster your economic policies will cause, and you plan to make no effort to fix them?”

“Of course!”  The wizard rolled his eyes.  “You see, this entire time you have been operating on the assumption that we WANT to fix the problem, or change course.  But, why would we try to fix what isn’t broken?  We seek the fall of Ameristan!”

Almost nothing was surprising Finn at this point.  He questioned knowing now what the response would be.  “What do you get out of such a tragedy?”

“We wizards are a special breed, and therefore, we deserve a special role in society.  You want the power to choose your government, but stupid people pick stupid leaders.  It’s best for the nation and the realm as a whole if the smartest men take the reigns, whether you like it or not.  The economic collapse is designed to help the populous come to the solution we wizards already know is correct; total centralization. 

Finn choked on the egomania of it.  “Maybe if you stopped rigging the Council by presenting only your own minions for us to choose from, maybe we would find decent leaders!”

“Why bother when we have done the work for you?”  The wizard gave a superior smile.  “We are the most effective kings in existence.  There is no one better for the job.  Look at how we have fooled the masses.  They are running around in circles, as it should be.  Let them dawdle about in their own ignorance, as long as they do not interfere with the works of greater men.”

Finn’s son, who was normally a quiet sort of child and had stood silent throughout the wizard’s boastings, suddenly spoke up. 

“You can’t fool father, you’re not as clever as you think, he saw the trouble ahead of time!  He’ll stop you!”

The old man chuckled, “Your father is among the minority.  What can he possibly do?  Being intelligent or mildly courageous is not enough, boy!  This is about the survival of the fittest, and we wizards are predestined by fate to rule!  The very laws of nature are on our side!”

Finn took a quiet moment of reflection, then, looked over at his son.  It was as if a vapid fog had stricken his eyes and now it was lifting.  All had become immediately clear.  It wasn’t about him, his livelihood, or even necessarily his family as he had originally thought when he left the farm.  It was about something even more precious; the soul of his people.  The spirit of future ages.  Whatever good was left in the realm, whatever gasping flame still flickered in the heart of the world, Finn and those like him would have to be willing to give everything to keep it.  Finally, he realized that searching for champions in this fight was futile.  It was up to him to defend the land.          

Only seconds after he had awakened to this truth he found his hands swinging the blunt end of his walking stick into the teeth of the wizard.  “If he can’t speak, he can’t use spells…” thought the farmer.  The codger choked on his own canines and crumpled to the ground.  Finn chopped away at the wizard repeatedly with the implement until there was nothing left but a steaming pile of elitist pulp.  He heaved for air, exhausted by the deed. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Saturday.  Under almost any other circumstance…you know it’s not right…”

The boy gave him a pat on the back.  “I know, father, but he had it coming…”

“Well, I don’t know that it solves a damn thing, son.  I just don’t know…”

Saturday responded calmly and knowingly, “It’s a start, father.  It’s a start.”

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pepperspray's picture

To the Choomwagon!

knukles's picture

The US Federal Department of Politically Correct Fun and Games for You (FUGYOU) Shits and Grins Agency proudly announces a free all expenses paid 6 day 7 night holiday on The SS Colonic sailing in December 21, 2012 from beautiful Arthur Kill, New Jersey bound for the Sunny Caribbean with a 5 day bonus stopover in Haiti complete with 3 enemas a day including choice of salt water, castor oil and residual ballast fuel oils.  Coupons for additional discounted self administered colonic procedures provided along with all meals, beverages and vegetable snacks prepared exclusively upon the New and Improved White House School Menu Sections Criteria.
The offer is open to anyone from the fast disappearing middle class, especially those recent additions to Federal direct or indirect support and supplementary programs.
Live entertainment will be provided by the Fabulous Hanson, fresh off their recent appearance at the 3rd Annual California Pimple Fest which was held in beautiful Fresno California.  Broadcasts of All in the Family and The Jeffersons will be provided 24/7 in separate, segregated living and public areas in the interests of Peace and Harmony amongst all men particularly during the Kwanza season.
Some political indoctrinations by fellow travelers from the current administration will be required during colonic procedures.
Steerage dormitory berthing is strictly limited!

Find out how the New Middle Class Lives!
Your Future of Tomorrow, Today!

shovelhead's picture

But, but...

Can I still sing show tunes while pole-dancing in skimpy underwear?

That sounds like fun.


cougar_w's picture

whut the ... did you just come up with that? That's some funny shyte right there.

slaughterer's picture

The USA = Obama's bong dream come true.  

A Lunatic's picture

Condensed version please.................

El Viejo's picture

American dying demographic mortgage to be paid back by a smaller demographic, but at a lower than normal interest rate. Expletives deleted.

old naughty's picture

Condensed version:

"The Queen smiled and said, ‘But people had got a bit...lax, had they?’ "

There !

Spacemoose's picture

you asked:

once there was a society of cave dwellers who lived next to a large forest full of elk. over a period of time a crude monetary system evolved wherein elk antlers served as a currency and represented the value of one elk. in other words, you could go to the local butcher's cave and exchange a set of antlers for one elk carcass. after a while there were quite a few antlers in circulation from locally killed elk as well as other antlers imported from surrounding regions. all was well and the cave clan grew.

over a long period of time, caveman Grok, through clever flipping of caves, and other shrewd investments, managed to accumulate over 10,000 sets of antlers as well as over 50,000 IOUA's (i owe you antlers) from other cave dwellers. Grok became the weathliest caveman on the planet and nearly all the other cavemen, who now numbered 60,000 in total, were indebted to him.

one day, famine came to the cave dwellers and as it always happens with people, it occurred to the cave dwellers that in order for everyone to eat, Grok would be required to share his vast storehouse of antlers and IOUA's so that his fellow cave citizens (who worked hard all their short and brutish lives, damnit) could eat. so everyone descended on Grok's cave and clubbed him to death.

as they stood around Grok's body, caveman Albert, who was more mathematically inclined than most cave dwellers (as shown by the fact that he had two syllables to his name), said, "you know i just thought of something. this solution might not work because at last count there are less than 100 elk in the forest. i think that taking Grok's antlers has not produced any real wealth and the value of the antlers was just an illusion because Grok was not marking his antlers to their real value". so the cavemen clubbed Albert to death too.

the end

moral: don't confuse accounting entries with wealth.

copyright 2012 me

A Lunatic's picture

So if I understand things correctly the moral of these stories seems to be, when in doubt it never hurts to club a bankster to death.........

knukles's picture

Yes, it's the correct new normal response to ANY problem.

Kobe Beef's picture

"...And they all lived happily ever after."

--Andrew Jackson

boogerbently's picture

...and THEY know, we know it.

That's why they want to take our guns.

wandstrasse's picture

I am European/German THEY did never even let us have guns.. so please do not complain, there is always somebody who is worse off.

shovelhead's picture

Germans with guns is never a good idea.

Matt's picture

What do you need a gun for, Tommy? Ze Germans?

hooligan2009's picture

more like "we are being f***ed and should beat central bankers (and the FT) to death with a big stick"

cougar_w's picture

"The Ameristanians were stupid and violent and went extinct, being remembered in name only."

Serves them right, from what I can see. So we were talking about the Superbowl ...

cougar_w's picture

Bootnote: that's not really what the story is about, but kinda close. It's actually quite good. I was impressed.

Gazooks's picture

condensed, hell!


I want the 3 part 9hr 60fps 3D psychedelic 7.1 shroom version


nuff'o this grandma Durden bedtime story bullshit


breath of the dragon, besides



cougar_w's picture

That's the spirit!

So here you go:

money money money money electrocution money fire and death money money gold money breaking the world money and eventually some nazis.

About nine hours, if you read the whole series. Oh and there is actually one I left off, I'll have to fix that. Oh and something further down the thread too, I just worked up on a whim.

All. About. Money!

HelluvaEngineer's picture

You seriously expect me to read all of that?

Slewburger's picture

I just clicked because I thought Obama was riding a magic pony, or the Bernake.

Bobbyrib's picture

Yeah, the picture is 100x better than the post.

cougar_w's picture

Why not? It's Friday. It's funny. What else you gotta do today other than bitch the entire time?

TimmyB's picture

No, it's not funny. It's boring, overlong and confusing. Shit, even the author can't remember if the hero of the story is a farmer or a merchant.

cougar_w's picture

Oh lighten up. Everything is so serious all the time. Here, try this: Smoke some kind leaf, or down a little absynthe over ice, and come back and try it again. You'll be glad you did.

TimmyB's picture

There isn't enough pot in the world to make that POS funny. Gibberish isn't funny,it's just gibberish.

The only thing "funny" about this piece is that the author thought it should be shared with others. Now that's funny.

LouisDega's picture

Did William B7 enterprise approve that picture?

PaperBear's picture

Article I (Section 9 Clause 8) - the pansy ass Title of Nobility clause
"No title of nobility shall be granted by the United States: and no person holding any office of profit or trust under them, shall, without the consent of the Congress, accept of any present, emolument, office, or title, of any kind whatever, from any king, prince, or foreign state."

Is it not the case that all Americans are already fully noble and this clause intends to ensure that there should never be any American either of a higher social standing or of a lower social standing ?

The 1st through 10th amendments were enacted in 1791, the 11th amendment was enacted in 1795 and the 12th amendment was enacted in 1804 but then some time around 1812 the original 13th amendment was enacted.

The Original 13th Article of Amendment - title of nobility = loss of citizenship/office ... an improvement on pansy ass
"'If any citizen of the United States shall accept, claim, receive, or retain any title of nobility or honour, or shall without the consent of Congress, accept and retain any present, pension, office, or emolument of any kind whatever, from any emperor, king, prince, or foreign power, such person shall cease to be a citizen of the United States, and shall be incapable of holding any office of trust or profit under them, or either of them.'"

A republic, if you can kep it. And this amendment would have kept the Republic a Republic.

If the original 13th amendment was hidden by the political classes of the last 170 years, what the hell else has been hidden ?

I do believe this is the only part of the Constitution that specifies a penalty and a pretty powerful one at that. I am reminded of what Samuel Adams said: 'If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen'.  Bribery and corruption has indeed led to the downfall of the Republic.

Virginia’s 1819 copy of the Constitution with real 13th Amendment (page 17)


"The Governor of New Hampshire received a letter from the Governor of Virginia announcing the legislative proceedings of the Virginia General Assembly on the Titles of Nobility amendment proposed by Congress and the letter was subsequently passed down to the New Hampshire Senate in June of 1812."

The (imposter) 13th amendment (1865)
"Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction."

I fully consider everything that has emanated from Washington D.C. since 1865 to be completely compromised.

"The term “BAR” is an acronym for British Accredited Registry [see comments below].  These snakes are in fact working for the Crown of England.  And that is why the gold fringed flags are in the courtrooms.  It signifies admiralty jurisdiction* [maritime law], which is another way of saying British jurisdiction [England is a maritime nation].  When you cross the bar in a courtroom, you are entering a British colonial forum."

The current American generation have the opportunity to PERSONALLY follow in the footsteps of John Hancock, President of the Continental Congress, two future presidents, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, and the other fifty-three signers of the 1776 Declaration.

"Prior to my interview with Teri and Dennis, I was aware of the deception and corruption committed by United States of America Corporation against its own people, but not to the depth and degree that was revealed. So many acts of treason at so many levels. Its difficult to fathom how those behind the development of the system have gotten away with it for so long."

"“And, one of those was Cicero. He lived, in around the time of 42 BC, in Rome.  And one of his quotes he said that I am very fond of,  I use [it] as a signature in my email. I’d like to share it: “A nation cannot survive treason from within.  The traitor wears the face of his victims and he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men.  He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly.  He infects the body politic so that it can no longer exist or resist.  A murderer is less to be feared”-Cicero."

On the there is also a 'We The People Now Re-Declare in 2012…. The Declaration of Independence!'

Rather than signing the secession petition ( - currently 908,368) perhaps everyone should be signing this notification of the re-declaration of independence.

Currently the number of signatories for the re-declaration is 3,584 but the Republic needs 30,000, needs 300,000, needs 3,000,000, needs 30,000,000.

Flakmeister's picture

You forgot the Sheriff of Nottingham...

El Viejo's picture

And whose guns would you control?? And who would voluntarily agree to this control.

Tsar Pointless's picture

No no. By all means - keep the guns and ammo comin'.

It's fun to watch little children running an crying from their school after some nutcase kills a few of their classmates.

It's also comforting to know that somebody I don't know can just walk in to my building right now and blow me away, for no good reason, thereby causing grief and distress for those who are near and dear to me.

Amerikkka: One big shooting gallery.

One day, we may just have our guns, and nothing else. No food, no water, no electricity, no nothing. Would that make you people happy?

By the way you people talk, I think it would. Yes, indeed, I do think it would make you people downright ecstatic.

By all means, downvote me. It will make my day. Punks.

krispkritter's picture

Live 'free' in your Socialist/Fascist/Communist paradise(whatever your subscribe to) you puke.

This is your brain (.), this is your brain with a bullet through it:

Oh and just in case you think it takes a gun:

It doesn't take a gun or a knife, etc. it takes a mentally disturbed person, which you remind me of. Now be a good little 'Tsar' and keep blowing your Kenyan deity...

knukles's picture

By all means, traumatize the tykes earlier in life so they're fully acclimated to the battlefields for the Blessed Global Distribution of Peace, Harmony, Freedom and Democracy as soon as military age eligible.

hannah's picture

I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show
My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw
Papa would do whatever he could
Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Doctor Good

Manthong's picture

Heroes will have to arise from the most unlikely of places to vanquish the monster.

Déjà vu all over again.

LongSoupLine's picture

Chicago fucking crook...fuck off.

SgtShaftoe's picture

I just watched John Stewart and Colbert for the first time in a while last night.  I cannot fucking believe the level of stupidity coming from them, and no mention of QE4.  They were spending most of their time talking about Fox's coverage of "The War on Christmas".  Unfuckingbelievable.  Taking shots at Fox news is like beating the shit out of a down syndrome kid.  It's just pathetic and sad.   If John Stewart is the best and brightest source of news for the masses of younger people, we're fucked.  

Temporalist's picture

In case you missed it:

Americans Aged 18-29 Have A More Favorable Response To Socialism Than To Capitalism

fonzannoon's picture

I really used to like Stewart. he gave everyone shit albeit unequally. he has totally and completely sold out. he explained the debt ceiling to his audience. he said the debt ceiling has nothing to do with taking on more debt. it has to do with our ability to pay it back. so we need to extend it so we can pay back our debt. he has become the trojan horse of liberal statist dipshit lies to the next generation who thinks they are so fuckin smart because he represents real news. he is ensuring the coming idiocracy. 

brought to you by Carl's JR. Enjoy your EXTRA BIG ASS FRIES

krispkritter's picture

If water had a left and right side, he'd be walking on the Left side which pleases my Cali relatives to no end. Any conversation regarding 'current' news revolves around watching a Stewart or Colbert YT clip. For people I normally consider intelligent, it's really sad to see.

GoldenTool's picture

+1 for the idiocracy reference.  


"operari sequitur esse"

Flakmeister's picture

They are two comedy shows.... Get over it... 

The real scary part is that their viewers are better informed that those that watch Faux News...

Hell, Colbert just won a Peabody for his work on Super-Pacs...

koncaswatch's picture

They both used to be comedy; now they're as much about comedy as Bill Maher.