It was a bright, joyous, sunshiny day in the nation’s capital. The bluebirds were chirping melodically. The immaculately kempt White House lawn smelled of the greenest spring, as the mid-day warmth stirred the fragrant wafting scent of moist grass clippings. Seated in impossibly straight rows of little white folding chairs were throngs of adoring admirers decked out in their best Sunday attire. Impeccably well-groomed ladies, draped in flowing knee-length sun dresses, fanned themselves patiently while intermittently swatting the wayward gnat.
President Obama entered the courtyard. A hush even quieter than a church congregation in silent prayer befell the crowd, which was largely made up of establishment dignitaries, their lovely wives, and the scribbling Washington press corps.
“Today, we mark a historic moment,” the president began with his loftiest of lofty voices, his head slightly upcocked as if he were drawing his words straight from the heavens. One instantly sensed the drama of the moment by his overleaping of any and all introductions. The god-echo was gloriously reverberating off the veranda and the White House barriers, recently erected, lined with barbwire and electrified, to frustrate the designs of the sprawling occupiers. There was a safety and a comfort within the confines of that idyllic tableau; an unimpeachable sense that no one could interpose an ugly sense of reality upon them. It was cozy, nestled and warm, like the pink uterine walls of an expectant mother. The pater familias was speaking.
“One that will influence future generations of Americans. One that rivals the significance of, and yet is superior to, the Magna Carta, the Declaration of Independence, The Constitution, the Emancipation Proclamation, and all declarations to have come before combined. As President of the United States, I hereby decree — The Right Not to Work Act.”
The crowd sat in dazzled amazement. Here was a revolutionary idea for the ages! The right not to work… why hadn’t anyone thought of it before?
“For eons, men and women have been held in servitude to their masters, toiling away under the oppressive regime known as ‘work.’ Capitalist enslavers, uh… I mean corporations, have cynically used ‘work’ to blackmail workers into laboring for a pittance. They have exploited them and paid them off with fancy cars, houses, big screen TVs, mobile phones and the like… mere materialistic trifles! But no longer will citizens be forced to sell their souls for mere ‘stuff.’ This day, all are free! No more work unless you want to! From each according to his ability to each according to his needs. Free at last! Free at last! Thank god almighty, free at last!”
All were stunned. The jaw of the cameraman dropped. Unexpectedly, he reached into his pocket, deftly withdrew a Pall Mall cigarette, and walked off to have a smoke.
“Thus, let this act be decreed and observed by all. But before the American people get too excited, I want to talk to them about the sobering subject of duty and responsibility. Since work has been abolished, an act for which all citizens should be eternally grateful, I must announce compendium legislation, which is immediately to become law by executive order.”
Men shifted in their chairs uncomfortably, leaning forward to catch the drops of honey falling from the president’s lips.
“Being that an economy cannot run completely on voluntary labor, lest there be chaos and mass shortages, I hereby decree the National Mandatory Service Act. Citizens have a responsibility to their community and their government, and although no one can be asked to work for the state in order to pay for the lavish benefits we have bestowed upon you, it is only fair that we instate national mandatory service in order to maintain our precious rights and freedoms.”
No one stirred. All were trying to make sense of the simultaneous decrees and sat for a protracted moment mulling the president’s words.
Suddenly, from the back of the assembly, a slow clap began to ascend, drawing others in before rising to a fevered pitch. Clusters of men stood up, grasping their wives by the hand to greet the president’s good news. The audience heightened their boisterous ovation with shouts of “hurrah” and “hail to dear leader!” Applause rolled for nearly twenty minutes before dwindling to a steady hollow clap, as the crowd had furtively trickled out of the courtyard. The president was off to Hawaii to play golf.
The White House garden was now a disheveled mess of bestrewn seats, clear plastic cups littered on the lawn, and far-flung cigarette butts. As the lawnkeepers leaned against the barricades, smoking and chatting, a Secret Service agent walked by and muttered something unintelligible to the crew. Their cordiality evaporated. Casting down their smokes, they snatched up their rakes and plastic bags, and gloomily returned to public service.
Kyle Becker blogs at RogueGovernment, and can be followed on Twitter as @RogueOperator1. He writes freelance for several publications, including American Thinker and BeatObamaPac. He speaks Russian and worked in Moscow as a copy editor for the economic news agency Prime-Tass (prime-tass.com). He holds a Master’s degree in Russian, East European, and Eurasian Studies, and has accomplished advanced PhD. work in political science. He believes that defeating socialism and all other forms of collectivism once and for all means thoroughly discrediting the ideology utilizing reason, evidence, history, and philosophy. He is currently editing his first fiction novel.