The Zoogie People
11-10-2005, 00:35
Otium sine litteris mors est et hominis vivi sepultura.
A slightly worn man in formal attire steps to a podium furnished with the flag of Zoogiedom and fashioned out of real oak. The pomp and circumstance extended to the rest of the room - well, to start with, it wasn't so much a room as a grand concert hall, and balloons with thirty-seven different vivid colors flew about in the audience, more or less chaoticly.
The balloons were all adorned with cute smiley faces.
"Hello world," said the man hesitantly, clearing his throat.
The hall quieted down.
"The Foreign Department has of late been concerned with Zoogiedom's lack of involvement and interaction with anything, including domestic affairs. In addition, the Department of Internal Affairs apologizes for failing to manage taxes this year, citing a case of mass laziness. We're really sorry for any, ah, inconveniences.
"Therefore, in conjunction with the aforementioned departments and the Dept. of Lavish Spending, which, incidentally, is never lazy, I, with the power vested in me by this insanely awesome title of President of the Zoogie People, call a big huge party at my place. You're all invited."
He stepped down to thunderous applause, and a stirring rendition of Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony induced much drinking and that which is associated with excessive alcohol consumption.
Seneca: Otium sine litteris mors est et hominis vivi sepultura. It means, leisure without literature is death, or rather the burial of a living man. President Hansien realizes that literature has very little to do with anything here, but the first word of the quote is "leisure" and so he thought it would be most fitting. A more fitting quote may have been Otia! Otia! Otia! Whoooo!
("Holy crap!" exclaimed Hansien later. "We've hit 4 billion population? When? Two weeks ago? Wow! That's really something, isn't it." To which the state secretary replied, "Yes, Mr. President...yes, it is.")
A slightly worn man in formal attire steps to a podium furnished with the flag of Zoogiedom and fashioned out of real oak. The pomp and circumstance extended to the rest of the room - well, to start with, it wasn't so much a room as a grand concert hall, and balloons with thirty-seven different vivid colors flew about in the audience, more or less chaoticly.
The balloons were all adorned with cute smiley faces.
"Hello world," said the man hesitantly, clearing his throat.
The hall quieted down.
"The Foreign Department has of late been concerned with Zoogiedom's lack of involvement and interaction with anything, including domestic affairs. In addition, the Department of Internal Affairs apologizes for failing to manage taxes this year, citing a case of mass laziness. We're really sorry for any, ah, inconveniences.
"Therefore, in conjunction with the aforementioned departments and the Dept. of Lavish Spending, which, incidentally, is never lazy, I, with the power vested in me by this insanely awesome title of President of the Zoogie People, call a big huge party at my place. You're all invited."
He stepped down to thunderous applause, and a stirring rendition of Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony induced much drinking and that which is associated with excessive alcohol consumption.
Seneca: Otium sine litteris mors est et hominis vivi sepultura. It means, leisure without literature is death, or rather the burial of a living man. President Hansien realizes that literature has very little to do with anything here, but the first word of the quote is "leisure" and so he thought it would be most fitting. A more fitting quote may have been Otia! Otia! Otia! Whoooo!
("Holy crap!" exclaimed Hansien later. "We've hit 4 billion population? When? Two weeks ago? Wow! That's really something, isn't it." To which the state secretary replied, "Yes, Mr. President...yes, it is.")