MAYBE IT’S SATIRE- URBAN NUTRITION

Sometimes I wander around DC looking for strange gatherings of people.  Not the ones that regular people might think are strange, like packs of heavily-tattooed individuals with chains dangling from their nose rings parading at 14th and U.  I’m talking about plain-looking policy wonks congregating in obscure conference rooms off of the lowest levels of the parking garages on K Street.  That’s where the real action is.

There are two ways to sneak into this type of gathering.  One way is to wear a tuxedo and claim to be part of the catering crew.  I used to do it that way, but people keep handing me their empty champaign glasses.  The other way is to wear cargo pants and a two-sizes-too-large polo shirt, five random ID cards around my neck, a pocket protector (nerds’ polo shirts always have pockets), a hat with the word “Connectivity” on it next to an abstract logo (there’s a matching logo on the shirt), and tell people I’m there to insure the connectivity of the AV system.  The AV system rental company will have techs on-hand to work the equipment and the building will have their own techs who will try to see to it that the AV equipment connects with the building’s WiFi.  If anything goes wrong and somebody asks me to help, I’ll just blame the equipment owned by whoever isn’t talking to me.  It’s not like anybody really knows how any of this stuff works, anyway.

I spotted several well-dressed people walking down a ramp into a parking garage, where they knocked on an unmarked door.  I was quick enough to follow them through it.  The man behind the door made a quick, uninterested glance at the ID card I held up, and I was in.

There was a dais of nine people at a table in the front of the room, and about 50 people in chairs facing them.  No one wore name tags.  A gruff, gaunt woman dressed in a neat gray pants suit was in the middle of the dais, and she spoke into her microphone.  “Welcome to the second annual meeting of the Committee to Insure Sufficient Urban Nutrition.  We have a few new people here today, so I’ll go over a short history of our organization and its purpose.

“Many years ago, it was realized that it was possible to massively disrupt the entire food distribution system in civilized countries without directly killing many of the inhabitants, using Electro-Magnetic Pulses, or EMPs.  This, of course, would result in total social upheaval and massive starvation.  Many possibilities were discussed regarding how to supply the survivors with nutrition, especially protein and fat.  The experts determined that the main challenges would be transport and distribution.

“It was decided that the main way to overcome this problem would be a massive shift in the concept of what is considered to be edible.  The people at Davos are pushing bugs, but we have been tasked to work in another direction.

“We have, in our midst, a huge amount of edible protein and fat.  The creatures that grow it are smart enough to obtain their own food, and require minimal care compared to farm animals.  Currently, every year we simply bury millions of tons of this high-quality nutrition.  While we can afford to do that today, what if there comes a time when throwing away all that protein and fat becomes unacceptably wasteful?  What if we prepared to shift our concepts and focus, and consider this high-quality food to be available for consumption?

“To this end, we have made an effort to identify people who are susceptible to the brainwashing necessary to get them to consume excess calories, and focused our attention on getting them to maintain as much excess weight as possible.

“We don’t have much time today, our meeting has to be over before the Senate Appropriations Committee meets.  Let’s start with the report from the Overton Project.  How are things going in that effort?”

“As I’m sure most people here are aware,” began a man in a nondescript dark suit, “the Overton Window is that universe of subjects that are permissible to discuss among the general public.  Our job is to move that window in the direction we desire.

“Several years ago, we popularized the slogan, ‘Eat the rich.’  While that slogan was generally assumed to be allegorical, it still planted in the general population the beginnings of the concept of consuming people.  As we expected, the usual groups of radicals took the phrase and ran with it.  Our latest surveys show that it is now it is deeply infused within the collective conscious.

“The word ‘rich’ was specifically chosen because it rhymed with so many other words, and could also be used as a modifier for additional words we could include later.  Other slogans we are experimenting with are, ‘Eat the Snitch,’ which is being picked up in urban areas.  We are slowly rolling out the phrase, ‘Eat the Calorie Rich.’  We’re flashing that slogan on television screens for a fraction of a second, under a picture of Lizzo.”

“Using subliminal methods.  I like it.  What about the other phrase you were experimenting with, ‘Eat the Bitch?’” Asked the Gray Lady.

“That got picked up by the LGBTQ community, and sort of swerved off the desired concept,” said the Overton man.

“Next, the Committee to Increase the Available Calories.  How’s that effort going?”

A tall, slim woman stood up.  “We are having success beyond expectations, Madam Chairwoman.  Nearly every news media organization has several writers who are avid about attacking anyone who might be considered to be fat-shaming.  In the past year, we’ve begun the program that connects the concepts of conservatism and exercise, which keep our target audience from burning off calories.  The people we have brainwashed into believing the core concepts of modern liberalism are starting to gain weight at a fantastic rate.  We have calculated that there are approximately 140 billion pounds of slow-moving, easy-to-obtain protein and fat currently available in urban areas, right where it will be most needed.  That number is expected to rise by five percent per year.”

“Excellent,” said the Gray Lady.  “Next, let’s hear from the chemical people.”

A tall, muscular man stood up.  “Our main efforts have focussed on getting the Cargill scientists to genetically modify their new lines of grains to create chemicals which shift human appetites into high gear.  That way we won’t have to list those chemicals separately on food labels.  Obviously, it will help Cargill sell more seeds, so they’re all-in on the program.  A few million dollars of grant money have gone a long way in that regard.”

Another man spoke up.  “Has any thought been given to the loss of talent this program will create.  Think of the expertise we’ll be losing!”

A loud laugh rang through the room.  “These are people who were willing to walk into clinics and get injected with an experimental vaccine in exchange for a donut!” said the Chairwoman.  “Most of them are gender-studies majors and welfare queens with IQs barely up into the double-digits.  They believe that men can have babies, and women have penises,  They have no idea where their food comes from or how it gets to them, or how water gets to their apartments.  They upload videos of themselves licking ice cream tubs and putting them back into the freezers in convenience stores, which is a felony!  Our studies indicate that if they were eliminated the productivity of the country would go up between 25% and 32%.”

“What about the moral, ethical, and legal strictures against murder?” the man asked.

“This is an international effort,” the Chairwoman said, “And Canada is at the forefront of that part of the process.  Their Medical Assistance In Dying program gets you to think about voluntary euthanasia if you have so much as a hangnail.  We’re pounding the message into as many people as possible, ‘Life sucks!  Why do you want to live?’  As well, we have convinced significant portions of the population that humans are a blight upon the Earth.  It’s a short step to convince them that they will be doing God’s work if they allow themselves to be… harvested.  All we need is a few laws passed that give us the ability to harvest those volunteers.”

“By harvest, do you mean kill?”

“Kill has such negative connotations,” the Chairwoman said.  “We prefer to promote the positive aspects of the program, which will provide protein for productive people.  Like us.

“Next, the Media Preparation Committee.  I understand you have made it a priority to purge anything in media and entertainment that might alert the population to our project?”

There was only one overweight person in the room, and he stood up.  “We have gotten the movie Soylent Green removed from most of the streaming services, and expect that it will be totally unavailable within two months.  The book it was based on has been removed from Amazon, and we have agents scouring used book stores to buy up all the copies they can find.  We’ve created so many bogus internet sites with that term that nothing regarding the movie or the book shows up in the first five pages of a search.”

“Good work so far.”

“Oh, there’s more,” said the portly man.  “We’ve used artificial intelligence to re-make the entire film!  In the new version, people want their death to mean something, and the Charlton Heston character fights against the right-wing forces who are trying to prevent Soylent Green from being distributed.  It’s much more upbeat.”

“That should work.  If we told our obese, brainwashed minions that fresh air was a right-wing plot, they’d hold their breath until they lose consciousness.  Looking forward to seeing the final cut of that remake,” said the Chairwoman.  “OK, time to break into the working groups.”  Everyone stood up, and people started coalescing into separate clumps before moving off to tables around the perimeter of the room.

I saw the techs from the building talking to two uniformed security people and pointing in my direction.  I made a beeline for the door, and got there while the security guys were still working their way through the crowd.  Outside the door was a forklift with a big box on it marked, “Rainbow Demonstration Signs.”  The keys were in it and I started it up and shoved the box against the door.  I heard the sounds of muffled banging come through the metal.  There was probably another exit to the place, but at least it wasn’t anywhere near where I was.

As I walked away, I kept thinking to myself, “Stay skinny, stay skinny.”

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