Pelt the Audience with Pig Fetuses
Right after the New Orleans hurricane, every state employee got this email from the guvnor urging us to hop the nearest fan boat and head on down to the Bayou for some disaster management. It said something like, as the governor and chief exectutive of the state, I have the authority to dispatch as many state employees as is deemed necessary, etc. And a bunch of signs went us telling us to Go! Volunteer!
And then there was the scramble as the supervisors all tried to explain that sure, anyone can go volunteer, but . . . well, if they clear it with the supervisors first, and volunteer, of course, means using your paid vacation time up and finding your own transportation, but sure! Go!
And this one woman actually wanted to go. And the boss argued with her a lot because the boss doesn't like to not have the final say in anything, or have her authority usurped by the governor, and now, two weeks later, the higher supervisors have finally demanded that the woman be allowed to go to New Orleans. And a few days after that decision was made, the boss decided to lay her off along with the other eight typists. The only reason given was that she wanted to do the hiring process again.
This is why you shouldn't work for the government: everyone with any scrap of power is so desperate to clutch it close to their sweaty bosom that they will never let it go.
Here are some new innovations I've thought of for Undead Presidents:
Instead of shooting cat entrails and hog snouts out of the lincoln top hat, we'll start with a lot of rose petals. During the second song, it'll be muffins. Then, when the audience is used to this cuddly stuff, and only then, will lincoln's hat fire the intestines and kidneys and whatnot into the crowd.
A fire hose that drenches the audience in horse blood.
If crowd interest wanes, the Headless Horseman will ride out on a BMX and decapitate the Zombie Harding.
And then there was the scramble as the supervisors all tried to explain that sure, anyone can go volunteer, but . . . well, if they clear it with the supervisors first, and volunteer, of course, means using your paid vacation time up and finding your own transportation, but sure! Go!
And this one woman actually wanted to go. And the boss argued with her a lot because the boss doesn't like to not have the final say in anything, or have her authority usurped by the governor, and now, two weeks later, the higher supervisors have finally demanded that the woman be allowed to go to New Orleans. And a few days after that decision was made, the boss decided to lay her off along with the other eight typists. The only reason given was that she wanted to do the hiring process again.
This is why you shouldn't work for the government: everyone with any scrap of power is so desperate to clutch it close to their sweaty bosom that they will never let it go.
Here are some new innovations I've thought of for Undead Presidents:
Instead of shooting cat entrails and hog snouts out of the lincoln top hat, we'll start with a lot of rose petals. During the second song, it'll be muffins. Then, when the audience is used to this cuddly stuff, and only then, will lincoln's hat fire the intestines and kidneys and whatnot into the crowd.
A fire hose that drenches the audience in horse blood.
If crowd interest wanes, the Headless Horseman will ride out on a BMX and decapitate the Zombie Harding.
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