The Congress, whenever two-thirds of both Houses shall deem it necessary, shall propose amendments to this constitution; henceforth, the "necessary" stipulation contained in the previous clause shall be defined as the moment or circumstance in which conditions have become too outrageous, unsustainable or just plain f***ing stupid for this nation to survive unless rectified in a pronto fashion. Amendments which must be considered in the immediate future lest these United States go down the crapper are as follows:
"--Amendment XXVIII, specifying a real person as having one brain, one mouth and one vote each, thereby eliminating any other entity (to wit: a corporation) from consideration as a real person.
"--Amendment XXIX, establishing that any politician or judge who would define any entity other than a real person (to wit: a corporation) as a real person, shall be soundly horse-whipped and, in none too polite a fashion, be invited to take up permanent residence elsewhere (to wit: the Gobi Desert sounds about right).
"--Amendment XXX, prescribing that any politician or judge (to wit: Clarence Thomas) who is in reality an agent of one or more corporations, must disclose that fact, along with the admission that his or her loyalties lie first and foremost with whichever evil overlords (to wit: David and/or Charles Koch) are determined to subvert this nation to a neo-fascist oligarchy under the cover of false fronts and phony organizations."
--A fraction of "Badger" Bob Berzerquierre's revision of Article V of the Constitution
"Who is it, for Christ sake?"
"It's me, Bob. I wanted to talk to you about filling in for me."
It was cold and windy, and I didn't feel like pulling on my trousers to talk outside, so I let him in. The camper was a f***ing mess, but I didn't care. It was just Cope.
"You're still in your underwear? You just get up or something? Jeepers creepers, it's the middle of the afternoon."
"If I want to sit around in my Jockeys, what's it to you? Now, what do you want?"
He pushed Guthrie off of the folding chair and sat down. I was hoping the cat would turned around and scratch the s*** out of him or piss on his leg, maybe. But no.
"The thing is, Bob, I'm writing the big 'Spuds and Duds' feature for the Weekly, and I'm running out of time. So I thought maybe you'd like to write a column for me. I figured you could do another one of those 'Constitution Reboot' stories. By the way, where'd you put all those papers? Last time I saw you, you must have had about 80 ... 90 pounds of constitution."
"Recycling bin. I quit."
"What!? Bob, you worked so hard on that. All those weeks, living in my basement, writing and writing. You just threw it away?"
"Yes, Dippy. That's what I did. I just threw it away."
He looked at me stupid, like he was sure I'd explain without him asking for an explanation. That's how it is with some people. They always think you love to yak as much as they do. After a long, uncomfortable wait, he finally asked.
"Because I'm beginning to wonder if most of the dumb a**holes who live in this country deserve a better constitution, that's why."
"Holy Toledo, Bob. That's a pretty strong statement you made there. I thought you were rewriting the Constitution because you thought special interests had twisted the courts around to interpret the old one in whatever way would benefit them at the expense of everyone else. I thought you thought the common people weren't getting a fair shake, and in fact, they've been getting screwed by greedy bastards who don't care nearly as much about human rights or the rule of law as about how much they can get away with. I thought you thought that by making it out like the darn thing came straight from God, the Republicans and corporations and the NRA had, like, commandeered the Constitution and turned it against regular people, rather than using it to protect regular people. So, was I wrong in thinking that's what you were thinking?"
"Nope, that's pretty much what I thought, Cope. But you take a good look around, and you have to say that regular people don't mind being screwed. I'd even say they look forward to it. They hang around outside sh***y stores for hours ... days ... so they can be the first to get screwed. They don't care that they're being turned into mindless little snorty hogs who imagine happiness can be had at 70 percent off, or that it's OK to pepper spray anyone who gets in between them and a big box of flat-screen, high-def meaninglessness. They don't mind ... no, they rejoice in the fact that their very souls are being sucked from them like strips of flesh, one credit card swipe at a time. I don't want to know what those people would do if given a choice between their children and their Walmart. I am sad, Cope. Sick to the bottom of my heart. I don't want to live among these snorty hogs anymore."
"So, I'm guessing you watched a lot of news on Black Friday."
"Couldn't look away, Cope. It was like watching fat people have sex. Now go home. I don't want to talk anymore."
As he left, I agreed to write one of his f***ing columns for him. And I did.