(Republican ostrich speaks with head in climate-controlled location.)
In an unexpected move, the Board of Commissioners of Public Lands has voted to ban climate change within the borders of the Badger State.
The surprise announcement from Matt Adamczyk, one of the three commissioners on the board, was made to a crowd of reporters on the Capitol lawn. Also quite surprising to onlookers was the manner in which Mr. Adamczyk issued his statement, which began:
“Lit veh veginf vy shayinvk vat viwf zish polshiy changh, zhe Refublkinth leadershit honozhh zhe Progresif trudishin ov zith greath shite,” he said.
Several reporters asked Mr. Adamczyk to repeat himself, but were unable to get his attention.
This occurred because the BCPL commissioner, perhaps in a symbolic gesture, signaled his intent to monitor the state of public lands by burying his head in the Capitol lawn. Reporters, confused by this ambiguous symbolism, and at a loss as to how to record his comments, initially set up their microphones near his posterior.
After several minutes of recording Mr. Adamczyk's unintelligible remarks, which were accompanied by inverted gestures (these left unsettling impressions on the crowd), murmurs of discontent swept through the press corp.
“Hey c'mon, let me bury a microphone by his mouth!” said a Capitol Times reporter.
A capitol police officer, standing on a pile of freshly turned earth, pointed at him and scowled. “The right of the Commissioner to execute a symbolic gesture will not be interfered with, restricted or subject to explanation or clarification of any kind. Is that clear!?”
“Well, then you tell me what he said!” the reporter snapped.
“Not my job,” said the police officer, stooping to pick up a shovel. He turned, shovel in hand, and walked toward a waiting police car.
“Hang on, hang on!” shouted a reporter near the front of the press corp. He reached down to pick up several sheets of paper that had fallen out of Mr. Adamczyk's suit. Scanning the papers, he said, “It's a speech, followed by a list of talking points.”
“Why did he bring along a speech he wasn't going to be able to read?” asked a young reporter.
The press corp, clearly tired of providing the explanation, droned in unison, “ He's a Republican. He didn't think.”
Groans erupted from the crowd, followed by giggles. These were silenced by the bleat of a cell phone. Bystanders looked around, puzzled, until Mr. Adamczyk began clutching at his suit. After some fumbling, he extracted a cell phone, tapped his thumbs across the screen until the ringing stopped, then placed the phone face-down on the ground near his neck. “Huluhhh?” came a subterranean noise.
The crowd froze, staring in utter disbelief.
“Vy cunt hee yoo,” said Mr. Adamczyk.
“I can't believe I'm seeing this,” said a passerby.
“Welcome to my world,” said a reporter. “Been like this for six years now.” The press corp nodded in unison and murmured in agreement.
“Hime suruh, vy shil cunt hee yoo,” said Mr. Adamczyk.
“Pardon me, who is that” asked a woman. A young girl was holding her hand.
“That's the State Treasurer,” said a reporter.
“Ah...a Republican?” she asked. Reporters nodded.
“They're easy to spot these days,” she murmured. “A lot of them act like that.” She pointed at the ass in front of her.
Her daughter tugged at her sleeve. “Mommy, why is the man being so silly?”
The woman turned and led her daughter back through the crowd, saying, “When grownups think too much about money, and fill their heads with bad thoughts, superficial piety and junk science, it makes them do silly and ugly things.” The woman paused, then asked her daughter, “Did I ever tell you the story of Alexander and the Horrible, No Good, Really Bad, Very Terrible Republican?”
“Is it a scary story?”
“Very. When you're a bit older...”
“Does it have an ogre in it?”
“Quite a few. And an Imperial Walker...” They melted into the crowd.
“Okay, I'll summarize these remarks,” said the reporter who had picked up the papers. “If you want the entire text, gimme your email later.” He paused. “Says here the new ruling will prevent BCPL employees from investigating and sharing information about issues that go beyond the agency's mission. Cites climate change as an example of such an issue.”
“Huh?” said an older woman, who sported a WEAC button on the lapel of her coat. “Climate change has already affected public lands in the state. Talk about instituting willful blindness.”
“Also says employees can briefly talk about climate change, quote, 'by the water cooler,' unquote. But anything beyond that, and here's another quote, 'would be inappropriate,' unquote.”
“It's a gag ruling,” said the older woman.
“You won't believe this,” said the reporter. “He was going to say the sole mission of the BCPL is, and this is another quote, 'to make money for our beneficiaries,' unquote.”
A note of disquiet began percolating in the crowd. The word “beneficiaries” was repeated ad nauseum.
The older woman spoke. “This ass,” she said, pointing at Mr. Adamczyk's behind,” is the State Treasurer. He also sits on the Board of Commissioners of Public Lands. We've just heard that he was prepared to make the false and ridiculous claim that the BCPL exists for the sole purpose of making money for, quote, 'beneficiaries,' unquote. Beneficiaries? Beneficiaries!?!? I'll tell you what! Mr. “A-Dumbshit” here has been spending too much time alone in his basement office in the Capitol. He is confusing the jargon and mindset of his job as State Treasurer with the very different skillset and responsibilities required of his position as a BCPL commissioner.”
Several citizens applauded and cheered.
“Much of the public land now administered by the state was, in fact, donated to the state by private individuals and by families. They expected, and were told, that their lands were given over for public recreation, for public enjoyment, and to preserve the natural beauty, the bio-diversity, and the sustainability of different ecosystems statewide. I challenge this ignorant fool,” the woman said, pointing again at Mr Adamczyk's prominent posterior, “to find one instance in which families deeded land to the state to satisfy his ridiculous claim. 'Beneficiaries' my ass!”
More cheers and applause ensued.
Mr. Adamczyk, reporters noted, had been speaking off and on at his cellphone, albeit incoherently, for several minutes. Apparently suspecting the caller had hung up, with what result was unclear, he returned the cellphone to an inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Almost immediately his cellphone chirped again. Once again he clutched at his jacket, feeling for it. This time the phone fell from an inside pocket and lay on the freshly turned earth, still chirping. Sensing it was not where he put it, Mr. Adamczyk began feeling around on the ground for his phone.
A reporter snatched it up, glanced at the screen, and suddenly waved his hand. Placing his index finger to his lips in a call for silence, he tapped the screen, placed the phone to his ear and said, “David Koch speaking.”
A gasp rolled through the crowd. The reporter spun around with his index finger to his lips, again calling for silence. “No, no, Governor, you didn't mis-dial. This is Mr. Adamczyk's phone.”
The crowd stared, wide-eyed. The reporter grinned, pointed at several microphones, then at the cell phone, and made a circular “rolling” gesture with his index finger. “I picked up the phone at Mr. Adamczyk's behest. At the moment he's immersed in a Public Lands matter.”
Stifled snickers swept through the crowd. The reporter nestled the cell phone between his cheek and his shoulder, freeing his hands.
“Oh, no, Governor, I was well aware that you were abroad on another-” here the reporter raised his arms and mimed air quotes- “trade mission.” He rolled his eyes.
More snickers from the crowd.
“No,” the reporter continued, “I assumed you were complying with the schedule I assigned you...good...yes...” The reporter made eye contact with other reporters nearby and nodded. He had, they realized, just gotten the governor to confirm a suspicion that the press had long held.
“I flew in to personally congratulate Mr. Adamczyk and Attorney General Schimel for their ban on BCPL discussions related to climate change,” the reporter said. “And for his efforts, I'd be happy to finance Mr. Adamczyk's move to more spacious and well-appointed offices.”
Mr. Adamczyk suddenly clapped three times, apparently to get attention. “Fixcyush mih. Cuhn suhmvody huhnd vee vy shell foon?”
“No, no, that was just some modest applause for their efforts,” said the reporter. “I invited a few obedient legislators down to his office here in the basement.”
As he said this, the reporter approached a cameraman, pointed at him, mimed a phone, and pointed back at himself. The cameraman fished out his own cell phone and handed it to the reporter, who then stooped down, grabbed one of Mr. Adamczyk's hands, and put the borrowed phone in it.
“Vunk yoo,” said the State Treasurer, who again placed the cell phone face down on the ground near his neck. “Huluhhh? Huluhhh?”
More stifled giggles rippled through the crowd. The reporter signaled for silence.
“Yes, Attorney General Schimel has done an excellent job evading accountability for his actions. His selective accessibility and powers of obfuscation are notorious.” Every reporter nodded.
“We won't censor public discussion of climate change indefinitely,” the reporter said. “Even as we speak, my industry analysts are researching ways to commoditize climate change so we can market incremental solutions that feature planned obsolescence. We'll introduce these expendable solutions at a pace guaranteed to provide steady revenue to Koch Industries and loyal affiliates for generations. Your efforts,” the reporter continued, “and those of Mr. Adamczyk and Mr. Schimel, will help prevent a more efficient and timely solution from robbing Koch Industries of the revenue to which we are entitled.” The crowd listened, simultaneously amazed and horrified, both by the reporter's analysis and by his ruse.
“No, we've got rural media outlets in our pocket,” the reporter continued. “If I don't approve any stories that legitimize climate change, rural conservatives won't hear about it, and won't think about it...uh, huh...well, educated and informed swing voters can be distracted by a few sex scandals. We're concocting several for strategic release...Well, the arena matter is designed to distract some of the liberals...yes...In short, if we minimize public exposure to evidence of climate change, it doesn't really exist....I knew you'd see the logic in it, governor.” Here the reporter hung his head and shook it in disbelief.
“Good, good,” the reporter said. “And you've been rehearsing the revised list of deflections and evasions we sent down?...Excellent. Should prevent any accidental release of information. Now I'm off to a strategy meeting with our servants at the Wisconsin Club for Growth. Your compliance, as always, is much appreciated and well compensated.”
The reporter looked up, wide-eyed, and made eye contact with several other reporters.
“Oh, you would? Instead of monetary compensation. Really?...Well, yes, you can imagine how relieved I am that scientific propaganda will no longer impede the revenue stream we have created here,” said the reporter. “Our investment in the Badger State is close to achieving fruition of a truly feudal magnitude.”
The reporter gestured at his ear. “Well, yes, we have offered token support to almost all of your opponents....I see...yes, even Senator Paul...quite amusing, yes, he is...Well, let me bring your proposal to my brother and our consultants....It's entirely possible to arrange for some of your competitors to discover a need to spend more time with their families....We will- yes, we'll talk again soon. Enjoy some warm beer while you're there. Goodbye, governor.”
The reporter tapped the cell phone screen, smiled as thunderous applause and cheering erupted, then posed for photos with the phone. After receiving a few back slaps and high fives from other members of the press, and similar accolades from members of the public, he tossed the phone on the ground near Mr. Adamczyk and snatched the other cell phone from the State Treasurer's hand.
“Huh! Vy vus uzin zat! Guv vit vack!” he mumble-shouted.
A gentle rain began to fall, as if to signal the event was ending. Conversation punctuated by laughter erupted from groups of reporters and citizens as they wandered away. The State Treasurer, perhaps sensing the patter of raindrops on the ground, clutched his posterior.
“Vy cud yuz uh widdle hulf heer!” he said.
A few reporters looked over their shoulders as they left. What they saw baffled, amused and horrified them. A State Treasurer, who was also a Commissioner on the Board of Public Lands, was waving his legs in the air and pushing on the ground with his hands, attempting to extract his head from public land his “beneficiaries” were about to purchase...