Humorous Farce - The Great International Bankster Binge

The International Bankster Binge

Chapter I - The Party

Once upon a time the evil and greedy central banksters assembled for an annual drinking binge. They should have been home, managing an immensely volatile, nuclear-class explosive material - paper money. But rather than managing that money as the means to promote productivity and public prosperity, they greedily chose to compete to hoard, inflate and ignite it, using it as an end in itself, and competing to keep themeselves and their little aristocratic gangs in power, their serfs in servitude, and their competing banksters in debt.

They fell into two groups.

The first were the Creditors, central banksters from exporter nations. The war-ravaged, defeated nations. Emerging, industrializing, third-world nations. The nations that slaved for the goods, riches and capital to be like the second group.

In the second group were the Debtors, central banksters from victorious, rich, developed, de-industrializing and capital-exporting, consumer-good-importing nations.

The party centered around a drinking-contest. The creditors brought the liquor and placed bets on the debtors. They hoped, by hosting and paying for the party, to build up experience and strength so they could throw their own drunken binges like the debtors always had since time immemorial. The debtors competed guzzling and chugging, getting, as they literally were, drunk as lords, until vomiting and disqualification. The creditors then settled accounts, place more bets and poured another round.

Things didn't go quite as planned this time, however. These parties had always ended with a bang, and they thought they were prepared. But they weren't. They would only make different, rather than the same mistakes as they went to the same old end.

The American, who was supposed to be a great and famous hero, a dead ringer for the late American actor John Belushi of the movie Animal House fame, was instead supplanted by a thin, enigmatic and oblique, mere clerk - BenAllen Greenspanky. He was no hero; just a mere old drinking pal of Prince George the Lesser, at Skull and Bones. Not being the biggest, fatest, strongest and cleverest, he wasn't able to hold the liquor. But being an ingenious yank, he thought fast and quickly hurled not only his liquor, but all the prodigious quantity of pizza and sushi he absorbed his liquor with all over his competing debtors. And not only they, but the creditors too and (Horror of Horrors!), worst of all, the money which everyone trusted him to guard!

Oh the humanity of it all!

His fellow debtors were so grossed out they promptly hurled on each other, and the grotesque spectale of a chain-reaction of explosive vomit escalated until even the gaunt creditors, who had only nibbled on a few caviar hours derves and tea, began puking ballistically too.

The party crashed; the bankster's clerks fled, leaving none to serve any of the debtor near-catatonic zombie-lords, or the writhing, distraught creditors, or even cleanup the disgusting, putrid mess. The good clerks were too angry at the thought of cleaning up the toxic, sickening mess, while their fellow embezzling clerks were forging expense accounts their lords wouldn't remember not-signing in their drunken stupor.

Everyone was really pissed at Greenspanky. Oh! How they longed and dearly yearned to kick his lame ass! But he still had the biggest battle-hardened army back home, with a reputation and, moreover, a proclivity for resolving issues with white-phosphorous and napalm. And with laser-precision. None were up to the task of being either the world champion liquor-guzzler or ass-kicker. Lessors had bubbled and popped while the yanks slogged on bottle after bottle. They all decided they better just go home, print new money to replace the putrid stuff, and hope they, and their clerks, survived their hang-overs.

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Epilogue:

Chapter II - Global DT's, Detox and Death
...
Chapter III - WW3; Sore Loser's Nuclear Pyrrhic Victory over Globalism
...
Chapter IV - The Renaissance of Gold

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I tried to write a parable about fiat money and globalism, which is not "Free Trade", but actually "Free-Fire Finance" for Old Europe's victorious banking aristocracy in America.

Feel free to revise and re-write, I would welcome a humorous, simple parable. Obviously, Tolstoy I aint. Sorry. Hope you're amused anyways.