Mitchieville: Election stuff

My opponents are creatures of the last century. Their political campaigns only exist in the short times that our collectivist masters have allowed for the strife and contention.

I am an army of one. I have recruited like minded individuals, who also were solitary partisans. We are a war economy. My opponents live in an age of muskets and pikes. My faction lives in the present, and prepares for future war.

Like the visionary Ellsworth Toohey * , hero of the Fountainhead * , my partisans have infiltrated all aspects of life in Mitchieville. We communicate to each other by secret signs, we speak to each other in parables. We seek to improve each others financial status, to the detriment of those with ability, of those who oppose us, or those who are neutral in this struggle. My ministry is filled with incompetents, hangers on, and buffoons; but these people have the golden quality of being loyal to the cause of Fenris Badwulf, Mayor of Mitchieville. My opponents still pad about with half measures and nibble at frozen dinners.

Lisa has a food taster; I have poison. The Mayor has a fast car; I have station wagons with gun men with automatic weapons. Todd lives far away; I have dispatched Sonjia DeSade to seduce him, as a latex clad blonde, brunette, and red head. Which is better? Whom do you wish to stand between you and those that irritate? You, the People of Mitchieville, will decide.

This is not a Total War. I count these people as friends. I usually come in last in these elections. But, when Total War comes, I will use Total War methods. In war, in defence of my homeland, of my countrymen, there is no weapon, no horror that will not be embraced. No soldier who does not torture the enemy for information is not doing his duty. No officer who does not lure the enemy into minefields, into pits of sharpened stakes, into areas filled with phosgene gas, is doing his duty. No general that does not ambush and massacre will remain a general long. The blood of my countrymen is sacred; those who defile my countries soil will die, quickly if they are blessed, and slowly if they are not. Prisoners are for forced labor, or for compost. Their rations are for the women and children whom we protect. I would rather feed my neighbours yapping poodles than an enemy.

This is an election. But when Total War comes, whom do you want to bring terror and famine to the enemy? And this same ruthless application of will and force I will apply, loyally, at the direction of the next Mayor of Mitchieville. To whatever problems this person directs me to do. I am a team player. I care.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this