October 16, Presidential Debate #2

[Jaguar]

Jaguar a word of advice..... if we are in that state of affair....don't go to the hospital in 2050. Do no consent to your own murder. People can and do recover from many ailments without the benefit of the hospitals.....and I would rather go on my own than on the word of some bureaucrat.

Too old to run, and all my guns are buried under the old Mesquite stump.

All in fun. I have long had a pessimistic view of the future, thanks in part to Mr. Vonnegut (before he became a liberal) and the Libertarian Party.

[C-dub]

I'm going to hijack my own thread.

The Alfred E. Newman, I mean Smith dinner is on and the President is speaking. He just cracked a good joke about his middle name. He said that he and Mitt both have unusual names, but that Mitt was actually his middle name. Then he said, "I wish I could use my middle name." They both are reading some jokes that someone else wrote, but I thought that was

[powerboatr]

A (very) short story, by Jaguar.


In the year 2050, when I am in my 80's, I will look back on this election and say, "well, at least Obama did not get reelected."

Meanwhile the government nurse, nurse Ratchet, will be double checking my "end of time" IV to ensure I go peacefully.

We converse about the good old days, when people were expected to provide for their own health care and could determine how they wanted to go out. How we could shoot any firearm we wanted just because, well, we wanted to. Nurse Ratchet will say, "oh, Mr. Jaguar, why do talk of such things, you know you can't have more than 25 rounds of .22 ammo a year." I would try to tell her it wasn't always like that, once upon a time we could shoot all we wanted to, even without the consent of the government. We would talk of things from days gone by, and poor nurse Ratchet would roll her eyes and patiently listen to the ramblings of an old man.

"What?" she would ask when I came to a particularly unbelievable moment of my life, "You actually had cancer?" "Why yes ma'am, I've had it twice, once I got chemotherapy treatment and the other time I had surgery; believe it or not" I would reply nonplused. Of course that is an expensive disease now days, so only very high ups in the government were allowed those treatments. Knowing I once paid my own therapy gave me a smile, and once the shock wore off nurse Ratchet, she returned to her blasé, professional attitude concerning the job at hand. "Well, you're lordship, I guess I didn't know who I was dealing with."

As I start to feel the effects of the end of time drugs, I notice a text message from my grandson on my Obama phoneTM. "Papa, just wanted to see if you need anything, you know, before..." Since the government controls all new technology, phones have not progressed past text messages. I look at the nurse who isn't paying any attention to me and type in a reply, "I left something for you, under the big mesquite stump in my back pasture. You will need a shovel." Then, as I fade away, at least I know he has a chance, and at least I voted for Romney.

Three days later, my grandson is staring at my cache of weapons, a Marlin .22 lever rifle, a 9mm Glock pistol, a .308 bolt action Mouser, and a Colt AR-15 in .223; all with 2000 rounds for each weapon. His eyes are wide with wonder as he pulls out his phone, dials 911, and reports the illegal firearms he has found.




.......................
Credit - some of this comes from Kurt Vonnegut, other parts come from a story I read on the internet. Very little comes from my own imagination.

I read it mostly in the dillion blue press about three years ago,
it was and still is a good read
2050...i may be dust then anyway