VICTIM...

There are very few people, intimately associated with the details of activity taking place in the VMC right now who will not be aware of the story I am about to make up. As a matter of fact I’m sure the BODs are already tired of hearing this account.

A notice was sent out by PM from some of the unhappy members of the VMC. The PM alerted possible associates of an effort to splinter from the VMC and start a new group called: Victory Insiders Club To Increase Malcontent. The acronym VICTIM was chosen as it best represented the faction (or so they felt)!

Being a rabble-rousing, complaining, maladjusted adult, with a juvenile sense of humor, I knew this club would be for me, so I traveled across the country on my bike, to a secret location for the first meeting. This meeting took place several weeks ago while the Soap Box was still a hotbed of hatred. It took me this long to find my way home from the secret location. Sorry for the delay!

I arrived at a barn outside a small town in a small eastern state, with my pillowcase. Don’t laugh, I was wondering the same thing. Why did I need to bring a pillowcase??? There were lots of cars and trucks parked around the barn, but I didn’t see another bike. I approached the barndoor with trepidation, as I always do, under these circumstances! When I was close enough, I could hear muffled voices coming from inside the barn. Suddenly a person stepped out of the barn. He/she was wearing a pillowcase over their head.
“Put it on.” the person instructed
“How am I gonna be able to see?” I asked.
“You don’t need to see, it’s dark inside.
I pulled the pillowcase over my head, wishing I hadn’t picked a flannel fabric. It was at least 100 degrees inside the barn, and hotter inside the flannel. It was so hot you could have knocked me over with a sledgehammer. Actually now that I think about it, it doesn’t have to be hot for that! I realized after only a few hours that the pillowcases were used to maintain secrecy, or hide the identity of the other rabble-rousers, and it explained the muffled voices.

After a few minutes someone with a pillowcase over their head began to hit a wooden rake against a water barrel. He did that for several minutes but no one paid any attention. Next he beat his belt against one of the main support timbers of the barn. Again, no one paid him any mind. After tiring of all this hard work, the man, clearly out of breath leaned against an anvil, accidentally knocking the hammer to the floor, gasped “Can you people please come to order?” in a voice barely above a whisper. The room was filled with silence, after hearing the implied violence in the voice of the speaker.
The guy next to me replied, “I didn’t know they were serving food here.”

Still too winded to speak clearly the first man said “We really need to get started. Dave, can you take the minutes?”
The guy named Dave said he could, but the meeting hadn’t started yet, so there was nothing to write.
Several of the people present who had obviously been to a meeting before said not to worry about that since he could take them after the meeting was over. The rest thought this a good idea.
The first guy, whose name was Carl (I could tell it was Carl by his name tag) said we should ratify the constitution. “Everyone in favor of the new constitution, signify by raising your hand.” No one moved.
“Then it’ carried!” declared Carl. I couldn’t help but marvel at the unity of the membership.
Someone asked “Shouldn’t we write down the constitution?”
“That can’t be a good idea.” I heard several people around me answer.
“I think that would only come back to haunt us...” Carl agreed.
` “Why do we even need a constitution?” asked a guy named Jim.
“How else will we know when to kick someone out of the club?”
“I don’t think we should have to wait for some perceived wrong, on the part of a member,” I suggested “we should kick someone out right now, and get off on the right foot.”
“Here, here!” several enthusiastic members called out.
“Who should we kick out?” asked a guy named Elmer (yes, Elmer).
“I get the idea that Carl is pretty pushy and not at all good for the VICTIM.” said the guy next to me.
“I don’t like his face!” one fellow added.
“His voice is too breathy.” piped up another guy.
“We have to vote on it!” said Dave, the guy not taking the minutes. “All in favor say ‘Aye.’”
The barn was as silent as the grave. You gotta love the unity of purpose shown here.
“Then it’s carried.” cried Dave.
“Get out you jerk...” someone shouted. Others weren’t as polite! Carl shuffled out with what appeared to be the weight of the world on his shoulders, or maybe it was just the weight of the cow dung that had been hurled on his pillowcase.
“Who can we kick out now?” someone demanded.
“That Dave guy seems to be taking over, who elected him President?”
“ I was just trying to...” Dave tried to protest, but he was shouted down by the mob.
“Get out, get out, get out!”
“But when are we gonna talk about posting dirty pictures on our website?” Elmer asked.
“We don’t have a website you idiot!” a helpful member informed Elmer.

Things fell apart from there... With memories of the French Revolution in my mind I headed home. A letter arrived while I was gone.
“It’s something from the VMC,” my wife told me “do you want to renew your membership?”
“For fifteen bucks,” I replied “where else can I get this kind of entertainment???