Another Fine Socialism Myth

A very good friend of mine posted this story on Facebook this morning to demonstrate the “evils of socialism” in our society. It got me thinking, and I felt I had no choice but to have some fun with it. Here is the initial post, which included the picture of the above car:

The best take on socialism yet:

A guy looked at my Corvette the other day and said, ” I wonder how many people could have been fed for the money that sports car cost.”

I replied, “I am not sure, but it fed a lot of families in Bowling Green, Kentucky who built it; it fed the people who make the tires; it fed the people who made the components that went into it; it fed the people in the copper mine who mined the copper for the wires; it fed people in Decatur IL at Caterpillar who made the trucks that hauled the copper ore. “It also fed the trucking people who hauled it from the plant to the dealer and fed the people working at the dealership and their families. “BUT… I have to admit, I guess I really don’t know exactly how many people it fed.”

That is the difference between the capitalism and welfare mentality: –When you buy something, you put money in people’s pockets, and give them dignity for their skills and hard work. –When you give someone something for nothing, you rob them of their dignity and self worth. Capitalism is freely giving your money in exchange for something of value. Socialism is taking your money against your will and shoving something down your throat that you never asked for. I’ve decided I can’t be politically correct anymore. (I never was, actually)


Of course, not only was the person not politically correct, he also wasn’t correct about politics. Here’s what I added to the story:

I got in my car, rubbing the steering wheel because it feels so good in my hands. As I rubbed it, a blue genie that looked suspiciously like Robin Williams appeared in the passenger seat.

“Every time I get in the tub there’s a run at the wheel!” he said, looking perturbed.

He recovered quickly, a smile spread across his face, and he explained that by rubbing the steering wheel I had earned three wishes! Without a moment’s hesitation I immediately wished to do away with every trace of socialism.

“Are you sure about that?” asked Genie. “I think you might mean Commu..”

“HEY!” I interrupted. “Do I get my wishes or not??? I’m sick of people trying to keep me from getting what I want!”

“Have it your way,” said Genie. A flash of light lit up the world around me and Genie told me my wish has been granted.

“Finally! I said,” turning to look at Genie. “So now you can go back to your bath and I’ll rub the wheel when I’m ready for my next wish.”

“Oh, I think I better stick around a bit,” Genie answered with a peculiar smile on his face.

“Have it your way,” I said, “but fasten your seatbelt because this baby can really move!”

I fired up the engine, shifted into reverse and backed out of my parking space. Shifting into first I prepared to give that genie the ride of his life. Slamming the pedal down I raced out of the parking lot, but all of a sudden the steering wheel jumped out of my hand and the car felt like it hit a brick wall. I opened the door and jumped out to see what was going on. What I found was astounding. Instead of the paved street I was accustomed do, there was a rocky, broken, dirt road filled with large pot holes.

“Genie, what’s going on here?” I demanded.

“Well, you see, the roads you’re used to were built and maintained by a socialistic program through which tax dollars paid people to provide infrastructure,” Genie explained. “When you wished that away, the roads disappeared.”

I looked up and down the street, and sure enough, there was no pavement. I also didn’t see any other cars. People were riding up and down the street on horses, which I thought was odd.

“Ok, well, how do I get home if I can’t drive?” I asked.

“I suppose you could always wish for a horse,” Genie replied.

“Fine. Genie, I wish for a horse!”

POOF! A cloud of smoke appeared and as it cleared I saw a beautiful black stallion standing in front of my car. I also felt something on my head, and reached up to find an old fashioned cowboy hat.

“That’s a freebie,” Genie said, smiling broadly.

“This should do nicely!” I said, climbing up into the saddle. Genie floated along beside me as I made my way to my house.

By the time I had ridden more than an hour to get back home, seeing an astounding number of other people on horses and wearing cowboy hats along the way, I was hot, my legs and butt hurt, and I was covered in dirt. I dismounted, led my horse past a large assortment of trash that hadn’t been there when I left, and tied the bridle to a post on my front porch.

“Honey,” I called as I opened the front door.

“Yes dear,” my wife called from the kitchen.

“What’s with all that trash out front?” I asked.

“Well,” she called back, “I’ve been asking you to take it to the dump but you always say you’re too busy” She answered.

I looked at Genie, puzzled.

“Trash collection is a socialist program where tax dollars are used to pay for people to come and take your trash away for you,” Genie whispered.
“No problem,” I said. “I’ll just have a shower to wash all of this dust off and then I’ll get rid of the trash.”

“Oh, have you finally dug that well you’ve been promising me?” asked my wife.

“Well?” I asked.

“Yes, when you used all of our savings to buy that silly car instead of paying to have a well dug you told said you’d take care of the well yourself,” she explained. “How you’re planning to take a shower I really don’t know.”

Genie, now perched behind my ear, whispered: “Public water is a socialist program where tax dollars are collected and used to provide clean, safe water at a low price for all.”

“Hmmm,” I said…somewhat at a loss.

“You have to go to the public bathhouse, dummy, like always,” my wife said, shaking her head. “Downtown,” she added, when I looked at her dumbfounded.

“Ok, well, I can take the trash to the dump and then get cleaned up,” I said, turning to leave. I picked up as many trash bags as I could hold and got back onto the horse.

“What, you can’t help me with the bags?” I asked Genie, annoyed.

“I sure can!” Genie said. “Can you phrase that as a wish?”

“I have to use my last wish?” I asked.

“That’s how it works, sorry,” said the Genie.

Picking up the bags and flicking Genie off my shoulder I got back up on my horse.

By the time I got back into town two of the trash bags had ripped and I was even dirtier and hurt more. That’s when I noticed my car was gone.

“Hey!” I exclaimed, turning to Genie, who was once again floating along beside me. “What did you do with my car?!?”
“Not me, chief,” he replied. “You didn’t wish for me to do anything with it.”

“I’m calling the police,” I said reaching for my cell phone.

“You’re calling who?” Genie asked.

“The police! Someone stole my car!” I said.

“Ummmm…” Genie said. “About that…”

“What?!?!” I demanded.

“The police are a socialist program provided by tax payer dollars,” Genie explained. “When you wish away all socialist programs…”

“I GET IT!” I interrupted.

“What’s your next move, Chief?” he asked.

“I know what you think,” I said. “You think I’m going to admit I was not really thinking about the big picture when I was railing against socialism and wish for things to go back to the way they were.”

“I just grant wishes, Chief,” Genie said with an annoying twinkle in his eye. “You make the judgment calls.”

“Ok, so if I wish for things to go back to the way they were my car will be restored and it will be like nothing happened? I can take a shower and there won’t be trash everywhere?”

“Like nothing ever happened,” Genie confirmed. “Your flawed but effective democratic socialism will be restored.”

“Genie, I wish for everything to be restored,” I said.

POOF! And it was.

The moral of the story? Be careful what you wish for? Nah, that’s too easy. Be careful what you vote for seems more appropriate.

Namaste.

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