by INDIRA CHARUNDER-MACHARRUNDEIRA, Alternate Reality News Service Literature Writer
Some people believe that the United States of Vesampucceri has become a version of Margaret Acastironwood's dystopian novel A Handmade Kite's Tail. "I took my husband's name when we married," said Christina Aardvarkseyesonyu (nee: Applebaumgardner). "I had no idea it would mean that I would lose my right to vote. Does this mean I have to wear red all the time, now?"
Other people believe that the United States of Vesampucceri has become a version of George Orwellumaythink's dystopian novel Nineteen Forty-Eight and a Half. "I love Big President!" exclaimed Victor Potsandpaninni. He looked around for a moment, then, under his breath, he added: "Was that enthusiastic enough? You never know who is listening - I don't want to be sent to the Greenland Gulag - I don't look good in orange! Unless Big President wants me to be sent to the Greenland Gulag - he has a Big Plan in his head, and I would never question...umm...I would never question...I would never question...I would never question...I...I...I love Big President!"
Either can be true, of course, depending upon which end of the guillotine blade cuts first. But as if that weren't bleak enough for you, the administration of President Ronald McDruhitmumpf has added another layer of despair to the dystopia: Franz Hafkafkalattay.
"The Social Insecurity Administration has switched my status to ‘dead,'" a voice tried to say. "I don't think that's true. I mean, I still enjoy eating crunchy granola, then spitting it out so that I can bite into a Big Baby Baconator from Bob So Tasty. If you prick me, I still scream and swear and wave my finger to try and not get blood on my burger. I change light bulbs. Surely, all that proves I'm still alive...doesn't it?"
The Social Insecurity Administration has changed the status of thousands of former recipients to "dead," even though they appear to be alive, certainly alive enough to eat crunchy granola, then spit it out so that they can take a bite of a Big Baby Baconator from Bob So Tasty. Hunh - that was oddly specific. But you get the point.
"I said I wouldn't cut Social Insecurity," gloated President McDruhitmumpf. "And I didn't. I just cut the number of people who are eligible. Clever, hunh? Stable genius at work, here." Stephen Siewnottmillertyme, standing behind the President, fought a losing effort not to roll his eyes.
"It gets worse," continued the voice. "A lot of government services, like food stamps and Medicaid, won't give you benefits if Social Insecurity lists you in the death database. Without food stamps, how am I going to afford Big Baby Baconators? Without Medicaid, how will I be able to afford heart surgery to deal with the damage caused by all the Big Baby Baconators I've eaten over the years?"
But that's only the beginning. Without a Social Insecurity Number, it's almost impossible to establish a bank account or get a credit card. Not only that, but dead people cannot access programs like food stamps or Medicaid (despite what Foxindehenhaus News anchor-goblins might tell you), making it much more difficult for people to afford Big Baby Baconators or heart surgery if they eat too many of - where are these details coming from?
"I did tell you, did I not, that any computer system can be hacked?" smirked Elon Threelonemuskateers, head of the Department of Political Enfeeblement (not a real government agency, but an unreasonable facsimile). "Of course, there's not much of a challenge if the person who runs the organization invites you to go into their computers - is it even really hacking at that point? Ooh! - I give myself shivers when I get all philosophical like that. Here's another one: these days, life and death is just a matter of a digit stored in a database. Ooh! - does anybody have a warm jacket I can borrow? All of a sudden, it feels very cold in here!"
"This is insane!" the voice shouted, exasperated, although it made little difference in the voice's volume. "I haven't been paid in three weeks, even though I show up to work and do my job every day! My bank cancelled my credit card, claiming that my purchases were suspicious because the owner of the card was dead! May family is starting to plan my funeral, even though I sit at the head of the dining room table and eat dinner with them every night! Could it - could it be that I'm wrong? Could I really...be dead and just not know it?
"Ooh! - I just gave myself shivers!"