On the road today, I spotted a giant van marked Disaster Response Team. Rust-orange letters on a pure white background. Can I dispatch that to Washington, I wondered. And what is inside?
Masks, I thought. No, replace masks with muzzles! Lots of use for those. And cattle prods to stimulate Congress. And military deterent gear. That means gear to deter the military. Speaking of guns, how about big game tranquilizer guns? And more ammo with truth serum.
The important question: who will man the Disaster Response Team? I picture two Generals. One is a grandmother with a megaphone voice and a big stick. She’ll clear the playground instantly. The other is Ghandi, because there must be someone who knows how to clean up their mess, not clean their clocks.
The Generals will need an ER crew for triage of government departments not yet dead but in cardiac arrest. The crew must be CPR masters, not citizen volunteers like me. Then undertakers to bury the corpses of federal jobs.
I forgot about the Economy. Will she revive on her own when she sees the big van arrive? Capitalism says the Economy likes order. May that be so, because this disaster is called Chaos.
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