"FOR CHRISSAKE, GOLDBERG," KENNEDY SNARLED at me from the corner of his lips without spoiling that princely smile he was famous for using to charm the socks off his bitterest enemies, "is there some point to this goddam lecture you've been bending my bloody ear with for the past hour?" What upset me most about this rebuke wasn't its negative impact on what I thought was going to be my (more or less) coequal relationship with him (at least coup d'etatwise79) but rather his apparent failure to comprehend the obvious relevance that Moronia's long history of antiIntellectualism had to our Case Rex plans for turning America into the kind of constitutional monarchy by which the House of Ambrose successfully prevented its subjects from suffering the consequences of their otherwise suicidal infatuation with the Blissfulness of Ignorance for the past 4 or 5 hundred years. "How," I asked myself, "could I make that 'point' any clearer than I already had by putting 5,000 years of Moronia's facespiting nose amputations into such a Machiavellian nutshell? Didn't these repeated acts of selfmutilation prove to a metaphysical certainty that: All societies governed by the One Man (or Moron) One Vote Rule must inexorably spiral their democratic way down to a level of egalitarian mindlessness so low they can sink no further without drowning in their own mediocrity?"
One could, of course, argue (as some of my more thoughtful critics have) that after less than 200 years of pursuing our own dream of AntiIntellectual Happiness we Americans have yet to reach the bottom of a sociocultural barrel it took the Morons more than 5 millennia to achieve. However, given the nearly exponential acceleration of historical time since 1776; and the lofty height80 from which the United States has been freefalling into the abyss of absolute brainlessness, this argument isn't quite as persuasive as it might seem at first glance. Nevertheless, in all candor it must be conceded81 that: Because of their Neanderthal(like) mentality, before drawing any conclusions about the relevance of Moronic history to that of a nation like our own—whose population is (predominately) Homo sapiens—some statistical adjustment82 must be made to compensate for the congenital intellectual disparity separating the Morons from all other modern ethnicities.83
Fortunately I only had to wrestle with these (alltoo familiarly insoluble) problems for a few minutes84 before the final float in this shortened "ad hoc" version of the Turnip Tournament Parade came into view and Kennedy's attention became riveted on it rather than any response I might (or might not!) make to his inquiry concerning the "point of my history lesson." His fascination with this particular float was understandable. Even I, who in the course of what was then my quartercenturylong diplomatic posting to Moronia had been obliged to witness dozens of these gormless85 extravaganzas, was impressed by its sheer stupendousness. The largest Turnip Tournament Parade float I previously had the "privilege" of seeing was one less than half its size celebrating Moronia's liberation from Soviet occupation in 1952.86 Spanning Main Street from curb to curb this one rose to a height exceeding that of the spire crowning the National Cathedral87 and, at the very least, was 10—or maybe even 12—Turniptrucks88 long!
More remarkable still, this Superfloat—whose Bimbeauxborne banner proclaimed it to be "A TRIBUTE TO ALL THOSE MORONS WHO HELPED MAKE THE AMERICAN DREAM A GLOBAL REALITY"—served as the platform on which a miniaturized Panorama Of America's Most Legendary Geographic, Industrial & Metropolitan Landmarks was built.89 Strategically placed throughout this panorama stood schoolchildren representing the luminaries whose names (and claims to MoronAmerican fame) were spelled out on sashes draped across the front of their period costumes. This partial list90 of the many figures so honored should serve to illustrate not only what the Morons are capable of accomplishing on a moment's notice when they mobilize their collective mediocrity (no matter how trivial the purpose) but to remind us of just how much we really do "owe" these (sometimes unsung) MoronAmerican heroes for helping us make this great nation of ours into what it now is: CHARLES WRIGLEY [Chewing Gum]; GEORGE HERMANN [Comic Strip]; ARTHUR FIEDLER [Boston Pops]; ELVIS PRESLEY [Rock & Roll]; RUDI GEINRICH [Topless Bikini]; ANDY WARHOL [Pop Art]; RUDY VALEE [Crooning]; SAMUEL GOLDWYN [Moviemoguldom]; ANN LANDERS [Advice To The Brain Dead]; A. T. SNIDELY [Presidential Press Conference]; J. EDGAR HOOVER [FBI]; ALAN DULLES [CIA]; DODGE DIDDLE III [Planned Obsolescence]; COLONEL SANDERS [Fast Food]; BARRY SCHEISTRE [Legal Contingency Fee]; SELMOR SNAYCOIL [Infomercial]; WILLIAM CODY [Buffalo Extermination]; FLO ZIEGFELD [Chorus Girl]; GEN. GEORGE CUSTER ["Only Good Injun Is A Dead Injun"]; ROSA SMELLSAME [Vaginal Deodorant]; PROF. HANS DUNZEKAPP-UZERFREUNDLICH, [Multiple Choice Test/Curve Grading]; IVOR MEENSTREKE [Fraternity Hazing]; BROTHERS MINSKY [Striptease]; C. I. GOTCHA [Parking Meter]; WILLIAM RANDOLPH HEARST [Yellow Journalism]; LANCE AMBUCHASE [American Bar Association]; WALT DISNEY [Cute Animals/Theme Park]; LOUELLA PARSONS [Gossip Column]; MARGARET MITCHELL [Nonliterary Epic]; AARON COPLAND [Fanfare For The Common Man]; SISTERS GABOR [Conspicuous Consumption]; REV. THOMAS PEPYS [Miss America Pageant]; DAGMAR UDDERSUP [Wired Bra]; EASLY SMART [Speed reading]; WRONGWAY CORRIGAN [Offense/Defense Platooning]; NORMAN ROCKWELL [Rosecolored Art]; JOE PYNE [Talk Radio]; OLIVE MAY PROUDY [Soap Opera]; SIGMUND FRAUDE [Legal Insanity Theory]; CASSIUS CLAY [Rope-A-Dope]; HUEY P. LONG ["One Cajun One Vote"]; LUCRETIA MOTT ["One Woman One Vote"]; BRØDË ÛNDRHÅNDË ("One Man One Vote") CARRY NATION [Prohibition/Organized Crime]; WILEY TWITSON [Female Mud Wrestling]and; WALTER CRONKITE [TV News Anchor]
SOME CONCERN WAS VOICED by JFK's closest advisers (seated in the row behind us on the reviewing stand) that "this not unimpressive display of Moronic floatmaking ingenuity" might upstage his speech. But when I introduced the President of the United States to the crowd filling the City Hall plaza they erupted with a display of orgasmic rapture whose exuberance surpassed their blissful reaction to the float. Never had I seen the Morons abandon their emotional reserve so completely. Not only did they lift, tip, tap, doff and brimsnap their hats in the traditional demonstrations of respect, affection, admiration, friendship, civility and reverence—they actually tossed them in the air; with the astounding result that many of them remained bareheaded throughout the President's speech!91 This was obviously the moment they had been waiting for since the news of Kennedy's historic visit spread its electrifying way through even the fathestflung of rural Moronia's huts, shacks, shanties and hovels.92
All things considered, the "dress rehearsal" for JFK's Ich bin ein Berliner speech was a roaring success. The Morons reacted as if they were hearing Marc Antony's Funeral Oration, Christ's Sermon On The Mount and/or Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. As Ballbraker predicted; they seemed totally oblivious to all the discontinuities, anachronisms and outright non sequiturs arising from the Berlin Wall motif of the text from which it was so hastily adapted.93 But it would be unfair to fault the Morons for their lack of perspicacity when the average German was no doubt just as lackadaisical about most of what the American President said to them in the Rudolph Wildeplatz on the following day. Except, of course, his "Ich bin ein Berliner" punchline—if only because of the grammatical scandal he created by inadvertently referring to himself not as a citizen of Berlin ("Ich bin Berliner") but rather as one of those crullerlike delicacies for which the residents of that city have coined the gastronomic colloquialism—ein Berliner.
According to the Secret Service plan: "Immediately after Kennedy's speech he and his VIP entourage (sans Amb. G) are to exit the Moronville scene ASAP via an escape route that will take them through the rear entrance of (an evacuated) City Hall where the Presidential motorcade had been parked during the parade festivities. Whereupon they will travel discreetly along some of rural Moronia's dirt roads (turniptruck tracks #s IX & XII) before rejoining Main Street for a dash to the Country A border, across which Air Force One is waiting to take off for Templehof at a moment's notice." But, being the political animal he was, JFK found it difficult, if not impossible, to turn his back on such an appreciative audience—"even if they are Morons." Ignoring the protests of his Secret Service bodyguards94 he announced his intention to "go down there and do some good oldfashioned handshaking—and maybe even kiss a few babies! They seem perfectly harmless to me," he added. "Besides; once in a while the leader of the goddammed Free World is morally obligated to mingle with the goddammed masses no matter what the personal consequences for him might be." At which point he turned to me and, with a wink of his left eye, said, "Isn't that right, Mister Ambassador?"
"Yes, sir!" I replied on cue. "Moreover, based on my not inconsiderable experience with crowd psychology95 as it applies to Morons, this gathering seems quite harmless. Having said that, however, I must tell you this, Mr. President: Unless your Secret Service exercises more discretion than it usually does, their Gestapolike tactics could turn these ordinarily docile creatures into a murderous mob of antifascist freedomfighters. Accordingly,"—I continued with his tacit approval—"based on the modest amount of charisma96 I've engendered among the Morons during my prolonged ambassadorial exile97 in this godforsaken 'country' of theirs I recommend the following course of action, to wit: That I should precede you in testing these potentially troublesome (sub)human 'waters' to see if they will indeed part and permit us to pass safely through them."
"Who am I," Kennedy asked with another impish wink, "to gainsay such a Biblicalsounding gameplan? Lead on, my Mosaic friend! We shall soon find out if this sea of Moronic mobocrats does indeed divide itself according to your prophecy!"
SO IT HAPPENED THAT, WITH THE PRESIDENT following my lead by a prudent turniptruck's length, we descended the City Hall steps and steadfastly advanced toward the barrier of wooden trestles separating us from the crowd of Morons who were growing more agitated with every step we took. Having come to within spitting distance98 of the barricade I stopped and slowly raised my silk topper99 in a gesture of fullyfrontalized browexposure that produced a collective gasp from the Morons at the sight of such a brazen display of unabashed elitism. After impressing them with the monumentality of my JewishAmerican100 forehead, and with my hat still held aloft, I used my free hand to "open" one of the wooden trestles—as if it were a gate—in what I hoped the Morons would easily construe as the prelude to consummating their frenzied expectations of receiving a Presidential handshake, backslap, elbow rub, autograph and/or such standard political persiflage as "How are you?" "Hello there," "Nice to see you," etc. With this caveat, however:101 That such a climax would only eventuate if and when they created a path wide enough for us to pass among them in complete safety.
Which, to my relief,102 they promptly proceeded to do!
Whereupon I followed Kennedy into what he jokingly called "the breach" and we gingerly embarked on what turned out to be—in the President's words, "The most refreshing experience I've had since my PT-109 misadventure!"103 His only "complaint" was he hadn't kissed—or even seen—a single baby. And before I could start to explain104 the reasons for that apparently inscrutable fact of Moronic life I was mercifully—and as subsequent events have proven—miraculously prevented from doing so by one female Moron who managed to squeeze between a pair of musclebound "NoNeck"105 Bumpkins standing in the front row and offer her newborn infant to the President for a propitious "smooch."106 As fate106a would have it her gallant efforts in this regard were only partially successful. Because of the increased jostling among the crowd and our quickened pace to avoid being caught up in it as our excursion was nearing its end, Kennedy was only able to extend a hand and just barely touch the tot's tiny outstretched forefinger with one of his own. This seemingly most subtle of transactions will, with the publication and bestsellerdom of Morons Awake!, no doubt become the center of a raging controversy between the Clintonites and Klutzians over whether: In that splitsecond during Kennedy's whirlwind visit to Moronville some sort of "torch" was passed from a President who knew his New Frontier dreams were doomed to the unlikely infant whose own life would also be cut tragically short106b for the betterment of all mankind, or; if JFK did indeed pass a "New Frontier torch" to his successor, that historic fact was captured on film in the famous rose garden photograph of him shaking hands with an adolescent106c Bill Clinton—
† † †
Alas, dear reader, just when our plot has finally begun to thicken I must interrupt it to address this burning issue! And more than a mere footnote—or even an appendix—will be needed for me to fully shed the light of truth (at least as I see it) on this future "torchpassing" debate. No. I'm afraid nothing less than 2 new chapters will suffice for the timely fulfillment of this vital task!
[NOTE: For those who, in one way or another, have already made your minds up about the JFK-to-Klutz vs JFK-to-Clinton torch passing nexus—or simply "don't give a good goddamn"—before throwing your hands up in dismay, consider the following: If it's that important, you can maintain the escalating state of your climactic expectations by turning forthwith to the Chapter following the digressionary pair I'm now inserting.]
Book Two Chapter 3 Part 1 Return to Index
Footnotes
79 Although, after putting myself to the considerable trouble of reducing those 16 volumes of my History of the Morons—which I spent 40 years writing—down to a 20- or 30minute briefing for his benefit, the President might have displayed a little more sensitivity for my personal feelings.
80 When our vast natural resources, abundance of human capital, oceanic barriers to foreign invasion and JudeoChristian/GraecoRoman/ AngloSaxon/IndoEuropean heritage are compared with Moronia's barrenbutforthegrowingofturnips soil, chronic underpopulation (and drainage of whatever brain power they did manage to produce), strategic vulnerability to the territorial lust of every imperialminded madman since at least Alexander the Great and Neanderthal(like) ancestry; can any reasonable American deny we should be held to a substantially higher standard when measuring our sociocultural shortcomings against those of our Moronic cousins?
81 As I 've done at great length in my Preface to Vol. I of History of the Morons.
82 The socalled "Goldberg Equation"—a rather complicated anthropological formula by which, after taking a variety of circumstantial factors into account, tables similar to the following one (reproduced from Chapter 8, Vol. VIII of History of the Morons) can be developed for illustrative purposes:
TABLE F
Comparing The Relative Success (on a scale 100=Pure Bliss) With Which
Certain Large & Small Nations Have Attained That Collective State Of
SocioCultural Happiness Their Citizens Were (More Or Less) Equally Endowed
By God To Pursue
POLAND*..................17.6
ITALY....................15.8
MEXICO...................12.9
UNITES STATES............10.4
MORONIA..................10.3
JAPAN....................10.0
FRANCE....................9.8
MONACO....................9.7
CRETINY...................9.6
CHINA.....................8.0
TRANSYLVANIA..............7.7
ALBANIA...................7.6
N. KOREA..................5.3
*This rather surprising (if not astonishing) result is attributable in no small part to that characteristic "hardheadedness" exhibited the Poles in their long (and seemingly futile) struggle to prove they are not a " nation of complete numskulls."
83 These difficulties over proving what my instincts told me was the quintessentially universal nature of Moronia's microcosmic history despite the Morons' notorious intellectual shortcomings all vanished when, as a result of the Klutz Affair, my attitudes toward the "irremediable nature of the limitations imposed on the average Moron's cranial capacity by his—or her—Neanderthal(like) ancestry" were, of course, miraculously reversed.
84 At the time they seemed to me like an eternity; one which has only been surpassed by that "lifetime" I spent stopped at the traffic light on the corner of Hollywood & Vine waiting (unknowingly!) to be led on that notso Merry Chase to the top of Mt. Olympus where my Sunrise Epiphany was scheduled to take place.
85 There is some debate over which came first—the Pasadena Tournament of Roses Parade or the Morons' Turnip Tournament Parade. The Moronia Chamber of Commerce has published several "White Papers" purporting to prove their claim that the roots (this pun is probably unintentional) of the Turnip Tournament can be traced back to the Moronic Turnip Harvest Festivals described by Herodotus, in 464 B.C. as being of "the most ancient origin." While my own investigations confirm the Morons' prehistoric practice of celebrating their turnip harvest with generous libations of kvaak (Gibberish for turnipbeer) followed by some primitive religious rites (of a decidedly orgiastic nature) and what could be construed as a "parade" but was more likely a conga line of inebriated Morons, I am inclined to give the benefit of historical doubt to the Pasadenans for originating The Mother Of All Parades. Although only God knows why they would want to take credit for such a truly moronic idea!
86 Like all who conquered Moronia before him, Stalin relaxed his ironfisted grip on what Pravda referred to as "this armpit of (sub)humanity" because he discovered the hard way just how wise some Moronic homilies can be—especially the one stating: "It's easier to squeeze blood from a turnip than it is to derive even the slightest despotic satisfaction from tyrannizing a Moron no matter how ruthlessly you do it." While not a victory in the strictest military sense of that word, for all practical purposes who can fault the Morons for being a trifle jingoistic over how they "kicked more Russian ass with just their abiding faith in the efficacy of turningtheothercheekism than NATO has with all of its thermonuclear clout."
87 To a nonMoron what the Archbishop of Moronville extols as "an ecclesiastic triumph of baroque architecture" looks more like the steeple of an ordinary village church—which in fact both it and Moronia's "National Cathedral" are.
88 The (more or less) basic unit of Moronic measurement. One TurnipTruck—or TT—equals roughly 15 of our "feet."
89 Which included Manhattan's Skyline, a Pittsburgh Steelmill (In 1962 "Rustbelt" was a term that had yet to be coined), a Chicago Meat packing Plant, a Detroit Assemblyline (also preRustbelt), the Alamo, Mt. Rushmore, a Las Vegas Hotelcasino, Grauman's Chinese Theater (complete with celebrity limos, palm trees and searchlights), the Golden Gate bridge plus fullyfunctioning replicas of Niagara Falls, Old Faithful, a Mississippi Steamboat and an Oklahoma Oilfield!
90 Culled from the deepest recesses of my photographic memory—since all the pictures of this float appearing in the original issues of Time, Life and Newsweek Magazines; all the copies of which have been redacted for "reasons of national security" by the State Department; along with any mention whatsoever of JFK's whirlwind junket to Moronia for the "I Am A Moron" dress rehearsal of his Ich Bin Ein Berliner speech.
91
A condition which, for an ordinary Moron, was considered much more shameful
than standing starknaked from the neck down in a public place. Among the
more draconian of the punishments inflicted on a Moronic malefactor is to
forcibly remove his—or in rare cases, her—hat and shackle him to
a certain lamp post at the intersection of Main & First (known as the
'Pillar Of Shame') thereby exposing "that most
private91s1 of all his parts" to the merciless scrutiny and ridicule of
all who pass by.
"But," you should be asking yourself, "if by definition
the vast majority of Morons are Lowbrows—and proud of that fact—why
would they be ashamed to brandish their foreheads (or the lack thereof) for
all the other Morons to see?" Like most ethnic shibboleths (i.e., Caucasians
can't jump, Latins make the best lovers, only Germans could have taken a
clown like Hitler seriously, Jews are intellectuals, etc.) this one about
the Morons' forehead shortcomings doesn't survive the simplest scientific
or logical scrutiny. The truth is the average Moron isn't endowed
with a forehead which comes anywhere near that paradigm of Neanderthal and/or
Australopithecus afarensis physiognomy whereby the browridge and hairline
coincide to completely eliminate that expansive forehead so characteristic
of Homo sapiens. Why then do the Morons persist in keeping the "secret" of
their being (more or less) as normal as you and/or I (literally) under those
hats of theirs? Which, by the way, they do religiously even when engaged
in such activities as sleeping, copulating, ducking for turnips, headscratching,
bathing in the Main Stream, giving birth and even dying! Believe it or not,
dear reader, I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of hatless
Morons I saw during those 50 years I spent among them as their American
ambassador. Among the dozens of Highbrowed Morons with whom I socialized
(on a reasonably "civilized" basis) during all that time only two of them
ever yielded to my ardent pleas that they remove their hats "in the strictest
confidence and for purposes that were of a purely scientific nature."
Even harder to believe; while foreplaying my way through
several generations of Moronia's (mostly) adult female population although
I was freely permitted (if not encouraged) to examine parts of their anatomy
most gynecologists have never seen—or dreamed of seeing—I was routinely
denied the "supreme treat" of having the slightest peek at them "from the
eyebrows up." Nevertheless, on those rare occasions when I did manage to
see what an average Moron hides under his hat more zealously than a Scotchman
conceals the contents his kilts the result was—give or take a mere inch
or 2—their foreheads seemed as normal as that belonging to any "average"
Frenchman, Pole, Mexican or, for that matter, American! But, dear reader,
before you jump to the obvious conclusion that these nonsensical hatwearing
proclivities are themselves the best proof of the Morons' less than human
status please consider the following observations that could be made by
them about some of our "nonsensical"
proclivities:
(1) The taboo against speaking in complete sentences and/or those containing words of more than 3 syllables that can't be easily understood by someone with a highschool diploma;(2) The average American's dread of being perceived as scholarly, erudite, wise and/or even slightly intelligent;
(3) The instinctive reaction among even those of us who privately think we are members of a vanishing intelligentsia to change from a classical station to one playing the most atrocious kind of "musical" trash when stopped at a traffic light with our window rolled down;
(4) The pride all cardcarrying egalitarians take in "confessing" their inability to program a VCR, solve a differential equation, parse Einstein's Relativity Theory, enjoy fiction classified as "literary;" remain awake throughout a complete performance of Der Ring des Nibelungen, Death of a Salesman or even The Phantom of the Opera;
(5) The sudden loquacity of the Silent Majority when it comes to calling anyone with an IQ over 100 an Egghead, Elitist, Snob, Aesthete, Nerd, Weisenheimer, Rocket Scientist, Jewish Intellectual, Plutocrat, Teacher's Pet, AntiEgalitarian, Wise Guy, Highbrow, UnAmerican, Smart Ass, Philosopher, European, Enemy Of The People, Faggot, Wimp, Gutless Wonder, Monday Morning Quarterback, Armchair General, etc., and;
(6) That most unbreakable of all our SocioCultural Commandments: Thou Shall Not Express An Opinion On Any Subject91s2 Which Isn't Shared By At Least 50 Million Other Average Redblooded Americans.
92
Bearing in mind no part of Moronia is more than 0.7 miles (a "turnip's throw")
from the dead center of its capital city this fact isn't all that surprising.
What is remarkable is that this primitive method of tribal communication
operated so effectively despite the combined efforts of the American Secret
Service and Moronic FIB to keep those Morons not involved with preparing
the ad hoc version of the Turnip Tournament Parade completely (and literally)
"in the dark" until the next morning when they would be ordered (by radio,
TV and special turniptrucks fitted with loudspeakers) to assemble in Moronville
for some "historic festivities."
Although, as I note in Vol. VI of my
History—and as the Babylonians, Mesopotamians, Phoenecians, Persians,
Greeks, Romans, Huns, Visigoths, Tartars, Turks, Hungarians, Austrians, Nazis
and Soviets all discovered to their totalitarian chagrin—the Morons
seem to be endowed with a sixth sense when it comes to acquiring knowledge
about matters designated as "forbidden fruit" by those exercising (or trying
to exercise) authority over them. The most recent list of such "unthinkables"
includes: (a) The catastrophic
magnitude92s1 of Moronia's spiraling National Debt; (b) The equally ruinous
Trade Deficit; (c) A declining birthrate and escalating braindrain whose
already unsustainable rates threaten the Morons with ethnic extinction; (d)
The rampant decay of those few "distinctly Moronic" institutions they managed
to establish during their 7,500year struggle to become "civilized;" (e) The
health hazards of a diet consisting principally of turnips; (f) A disturbing
trend among modern cartographers to delete Moronia from the maps of Europe
(or simply forget to include it); (g) The perennial resolution offered in
the General Assembly of the U.N. to unseat Moronia for failing to meet the
minimum requirements for
microstatehood.92s2 Not to mention such nonMoronspecific concerns as: (1)
Global Warming; (2) Nuclear Proliferation; (3) AIDS; (4) Radon Gas; (5) Wayward
Asteroids, and; (6) Polar Ozone DepletionEven more frustrating for a homegrown
tyrant like Jedgar Ballbraker is the fact some Lowbrow Morons have managed
by a mysterious process—he calls it "cranial osmosis"—to acquire
a rudimentary but nevertheless dangerous degree of knowledge about that most
sacrosanct of all Moronia's State Secrets, to wit: Notwithstanding their
certified Neanderthal(like) ancestry several perfectly (sub)normal Morons
have been known to display intellectual traits indistinguishable from those
of the average German, Russian, Pole, Frenchman and/or American. According
to my Highbrow sources even Ballbraker's allout ("I'll eat my hat at high
noon on Main Street if one word about this scandal leaks") efforts to keep
the lid from blowing off the Klutz Affair haven't been entirely foolproof.
Apparently rumors have been circulating among the Moronic masses since my
sudden departure about the suspicious state of National Security affairs
surrounding the routine murder of a lowlevel Middlebrow bureaucrat whose
life and/or death couldn't and/or shouldn't have been less auspicious for
its and/or their quintessential
mediocrity.
93 See Appendix R for my (rejected) efforts at rewriting the Ich bin ein Berliner speech for a Moronic audience.
94 As he did with such tragic results later that year when—in spite of Congressman Gonzalez's decidedly nervous joke about not wearing his bulletproof vest—Kennedy insisted the Plexiglas bubble should be left off the Cadillac Eldorado in which he would make his "triumphant" ride through Dallas.
95 This refers principally to those dark days of 1959 when Fidel Castro replaced our man in Havana, Fulgencio Batista, with his own brand of "Cuban" democracy. Unlike the Eisenhower administration, the Morons had no difficulty perceiving the Cuban Revolution as a clear case of national liberation rather than part of some Communist plot to dismantle the Monroe Doctrine. Admittedly the Morons' geopolitical attitudes are based more on their (understandable) empathy for all underdogs than on the realpolitik subtleties of a Dullesesque, Kissingerese or Ruskian analysis. Nevertheless, I was also convinced that, regardless of his Marxist proclivities, Castro could be "killed" more effectively with Alianza para el Progressa kindness than with Yankee/Gringo Bigstickism. Not only did I make my unorthodox (if not heretical) views plain to the Morons in a series of impromptu speeches I delivered to them from the embassy balcony when they demonstrated against America's escalating antiCastro/Communist Policy—one that reached climactic proportions with the Bay of Pigs invasion of April '62 and came to a head of thermonuclear steam when the Cuban Missile Crisis erupted in October 1962—I sent several urgent dispatches and memoranda to the State Department (with copies for the White House) outlining not only my "Killing-with-Kindness" ideas for salvaging our fatally flawed Cuban policy but a comprehensive review of America's entire Cold War strategy.95s1 Needless to say, this advice was treated with the same contemptuous silence shown by the State Department toward all of my correspondence. If there had been any diplomatic posting more hellish than Moronia I would no doubt have been sent to it. Like all the other documents relating to my ambassadorship in Moronia these items have disappeared without a trace from the State Department Archives.
96 No one is more keenly aware than I am that, as with Lemuel Gulliver's size advantage over the Lilliputians, some—if not most—of the intellectual (and amatory) prestige I enjoyed throughout Moronia could be attributed to the fact that I was a relatively large fish swimming in the smallest of sociocultural ponds. But, of course, all that was before my writing of this literary masterpiece!
97 Since several of my most recent State Department tormentors were within earshot I saw no reason not to take advantage of this rare opportunity for castigating them in person over the part they continued playing in a plot to keep me buried alive in Moronia that began in 1939!
98 Another standard unit of Moronic measurement equal (depending on wind conditions) to approximately 3 AngloAmerican yards.
99 JFK's visit provided me with the only excuse I ever had during my 50 years in Moronia for dressing from head to toe in diplomatic finery which, apart from the aforementioned silk hat, included a tailed cutaway coat, starched dickey, satin cummerbund, scarlet sash, pinstriped trousers, spats and patent leather shoes
100 To the Morons this special combination of hyphenated Americanism was the ne plus ultra ("bee's knees") of Superhighbrowdom. Unlike a normal Highbrow—whom the Morons intuitively detest on sight—a Superhighbrow is seen by them through what I call "an epiphanal loophole" in their otherwise earthbound mentalities. With the paradoxical result that they immediately fall into a state of the most abject sociocultural subservience and/or (quasi) religious rapture when exposed to the sight of a forehead such as mine.
101 Adroitly conveyed to them in no uncertain terms by the gravitas of my dignified bearing alone.
102 And if I was surprised by their civilized conduct it was only because of the unique circumstances involved. Under less emotional conditions—and given half a chance to do so—most Morons are quite capable of behaving (more or less) rationally in what might otherwise turn into a panic situation. The "trick" in getting them to "act" intelligently is a rather simple one. It involves treating them as if they are not the perfect idiots they find it so convenient to be taken for. I discovered this method for (at least temporarily) boosting the average Low- and/or Middlebrow Moron's IQ several notches102s1 long before the Klutz Affair shattered all my stereotypical attitudes concerning the irremediable nature of the Morons' mental handicaps. Which, let me quickly add, doesn't mean I'm claiming any credit for that Quantum Leap in The History Of Mankind made by Jack F. Klutz when he postulated his NeoEgalitarian Theories. Quite the contrary! In spite of the halfcentury I spent delving into every nook and cranny of the Moronic microcosm I failed to see a truth that was plainer than the nose102s2 on my face, namely: That like any mainstream American the average Moron is capable of scoring a perfect 100 on the Klutzian IQ test—where zero represents only that point from which every human being starts from birth to maximize her (or his) potential for attaining the (almost) infallible sagacity of the Supreme Being in whose image she (or he) was created.
103 With some minor exceptions; including: Several Castroite troublemakers who managed to make themselves heard above the otherwise proAmerican din by shouting such shopworn Third World slogans as, "YANKEE GO HOME!" "CUBA LIBRE!" "DOWN WITH THE MONROE DOCTRINE!" and "SOCIALISMO O MUERTE;"103s1 7 or 8 episodes of bosombaring,103s2 and; The odd rotten turnip thrown by some mindless urchin.
104 An explanation that would have involved such esoteric matters as: (a) The unorthodox configuration of the female Moron's genitalia; (b) That phenomenon Margaret Mead describes as "the procreational fatigue" afflicting some primitive tribes who've been avoiding extinction by the skin of its teeth for thousands of years, and; (c) The reply most Moronic couples make when questioned about their childlessness, to wit: "What's the point of raising a brat who, if we're lucky, will be just another mouth to feed for 15 or 20 years and, in the worst case scenario, saddle us with a lifelong source of misery, anguish, frustration and disappointment—not to mention financial ruin?"
105 A breed of agrarian ironpumpers whose principle purpose in life is to see how strong they can become without doing any work that could be construed as remotely beneficial for society at large. Curiously these NoNeck Bumpkins seem to have set the bodybuilding trend presently in vogue among those citizens of more advanced societies who "wouldn't be caught dead earning a paycheck by the sweat of our brows."
106 This primitive belief in having one's child "consecrated" by the lips of some celebrity is, of course, not limited to the Morons. One has only to attend a 4th of July, Bastille Day, Cinco de Mayo and/or Royal Opening of Parliament parade to see scores—if not hundreds—of babies being offered up to receive the "blessings" of such superstitious nonsense by their perfectly "civilized" parents.
106a Once again God was being deliberately circumspect in the unfolding of his Divine Masterplan.
106b Not, however, before he left us his NeoEgalitarian legacy!
106c But already far slicker insidethebeltwaywise than his tender years and/or Arkansas upbringing would suggest.
Subfootnotes
91s1Technically that space between a Moron's eyebrows—or browridge for those whose facial features are more Neanderthal than Neanderthallike—and hair/scalpline. As previously discussed it is this crucial measurement of their foreheads by which all Morons are classified from birth as being Low-, Middle-, or Highbrowed.
91s2 Including the bedside reading habits of housewives, primetime television programming, capital punishment, the means testing of government handouts, multiculturalism, mediocrity, the mindlessness of Monday Night Football commentary, agricultural subsidies, the Vietnam War Memorial, NASA, white bread, J. Edgar Hoover, the exclusionary rule, affirmative action, cheeseburgers, socialized medicine, frozen yogurt, rewriting (or, God forbid, abolishing) the Constitution, obesity and/or, of course, Motherhood, The Flag & Apple Pie.
92s1 Currently estimated at U.S. $23,700—a truly staggering number for an "economy" with an annual Gross Domestic Product in the $650 range.
92s2 Which, according to the 1945 Charter, are: (1) A population at least as large as that of San Marino, and; (2) Borders encompassing an area no smaller than that of Lichtenstein.
95s1 Based in part on the Morons' eventually successful application of the theological principle of turntheothercheekism as a strategy for the survival of a microstate in the dogeatdog world of macrogeopolitics.
102s1 Above its nominal range of 47 - 64 on the StanfordBinet scale.
102s2 And, for all those acquainted with my Semitic "schnoz" before it was cut down to a less formidable (and incriminating) size, that is—as they say—really saying something!
103s1 To which one Moronic wag responded: "How can you tell the difference between death and socialism?"
103s2 A manifestation of female hysteria which was considered uniquely Moronic until public toplessness became fashionable throughout the "civilized" world.
