By any civilized measure, this should be a golden age for America. My editors inform me that the gap between rich and poor is the greatest in history, which is a comfort, as I wish the coal-smudged wretches as far from me as possible. So, too, are we in a vast recession, meaning I am allowed to appear fiscally pious and unusually virtuous as I refuse to share even a parcel of my staggering wealth with the less enriched. Best of all, the lack of spare spending-pennies among the general population has put every-one in such a foul demeanor that the good people of Georgia may soon pass a law decreeing that any woman over 13 who is not pregnant must be put to death, and about time, I say. Truly, it is a good time to sell news-papers, as people do lap up the repeated failures of their society like a dog its vomit.
But for one noxious exception: This governor of Wisconsin and his glaring impotence in constraining the state's wretched hirelings.
You may imagine my rage when I was informed that the Governor was facing down seventy thousands of angry state workers after informing them that they had lost their right to bargain for Union contracts! He allowed them to rise up like so many aspirational prairie-dogs, without fear of lashing, the gibbet, nor public humiliation! Wisconsin, as we all know, is a hinterland of ruddy-faced, venison-gnashing peasants, so naturally the in-ability of this man to rule there infuriated me so greatly that my iron dentures clashed together with a force sufficient to spot-weld them closed. We have come to a pretty pass in this country when common citizens feel they have the right to assemble in public and shout any God-damned thing they want!
Once I had been calmed and my jaws freed by my house dentrifice-monger, I discussed the matter of the Union workers with my solicitors. My first question, of course, was whether or not these Union toilers could be replaced with vastly less expensive workers under the Confederate model, but I was informed that for various complex reasons this may not be feasible for several years. I was much heartened by the news, however, that Walker was trying to drag the Union work-men down to the level of the average slobbering working person, which should be the goal of every Governor. After all, I would not build a lead-slurry plant in Wisconsin if I can pay the workers in New Jersey a few cents less, and unions make that very difficult. Therefore, if they care one whit about cheap and thank-less jobs, the 48 governors of this nation ought to be scrambling to see which state can beat its citizens into the most hopeless, miserable, and pathetic conditions possible. The governor with the most desperate citizens will then get all the lead-slurry plants and be hailed as a hero. That, as any news-paper will tell you, is how America works, God damn it!
Yet what little blood still seeps through my calcified and brittle veins was brought near to boiling when I was told that minions, lackeys, and servants were threatening to assemble publicly and make their opinions known in the neighboring cesspools of Ohio and Indiana. If this madness were to spread, the grotesque accumulation of capital I and my brother barons so cherish would be under some feeble threat. What would these workers demand next? A six-day work week? Nonsense!
I was quickly informed, however, that many of the plow-and-hammer types actually support their asparagus-spined governor, apparently from the impulse that it is easier to tear others down than to lift yourself up—a principle I wholly support, as it is the foundation upon which journalism and democracy are built.
So while this near-treasonous Governor should resign for slackening the customary iron grip on his state and allowing the common rabble to have a voice, I believe that this will be only a brief setback. The people of Wisconsin have been reasonable, civil, and articulate, I am told, despite the fact that many among them are mere laborers, and, what is even worse, teachers. And if there is one thing I have learned from my time on this God-forsaken Earth, it is that reasonable, civil, and intelligent people have not left much of a mark on history.
Now, get back to work!
T. Herman Zweibel, the great grandson of Onion founder Friedrich Siegfried Zweibel, was born in 1868, became editor of The Onion at age 20, and persisted in various editorial posts until his launching into space in 2001. Zweibel's name became synonymous with American business success in the 20th century. Many consider him the “Father Of American Journalism,” also the title of his well-known 1943 biography, written by Norman Rombauer.