Sea of Idiots

by Thom Young

Jan woke up early, and started packing away a few things in the kitchen. A knock on the door. It was quite unusual for anybody to knock on the door, especially on Saturday. Jan put on a pot of coffee, and went to the door.

  “Patty. Good to see you. I was getting a little worried.”

  “I’ve called a few times,” said Patty.

  “You have? Seems like the phone never rings. Maybe I missed you.”

  “Could be. Good news. We have a few interested buyers,” said Patty.

  “That’s great. What can I do?”

  “I set up a viewing for next Wednesday. It’s a real nice couple, “said Patty.

  “Fabulous. Do you want me here?”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Max will probably be here.”

  “Max? He’s still living with you?” asked Patty.

  “For the last fifteen years. That’s part of why I’m selling. I need to branch out. Never mind Max. He just stays in his room.”

  “Sounds good,” Patty said.

  Jan needed to clean the house. She didn’t want the prospective buyers getting a bad impression. Things were going to be hectic between the house and the move, but she’d manage to pull it off. Her main concern was dealing with Max.

  “Max. Turn down that music!”

  Jan banged on her son’s door, but to no avail. She gave up and barged in, nearly knocking the door off its hinges.

  “Turn off that racket!”

  Max stared at the computer and ignored his mother. He was busy chatting with Hensley.

  “Have you heard of Operation Twist? You imbecile!” Max yelled at the computer screen.

  Jan walked over and unplugged the record player.

  “Mother! What on earth are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to tell you the realtor has buyers coming next week.”

  “Can’t you see I’ve got the professor in a conundrum? I’ve got no time for nonsense.”

  “I want you out of the house. It’s next Wednesday.”

  “Mother. Just leave.”

  Max leaned back in his chair, and flipped over. Hensley’s class burst into laughter. The chat was over. Max picked himself up, and put his Cubs hat back on. He’d make plans for next Wednesday.

  The church board meeting.

  Pastor Ray Walker led his flock at Harmony Baptist. He was one of the few pastors in town with a seminary education. The good folk of Lufkin didn’t question much, and he liked it that way. His secretary brought a rather entertaining letter to his attention; it was a scathing rant against his wife. The pastor thought it quite humorous, but even more unusual it was signed by Max Wilson.

  “I baptized Max many years ago. Is he still living at home? Must be like forty by now,” Pastor Ray thought.

  What the pastor really was looking forward to was his three month sabbatical. He took Alice to their cabin in Colorado, and loved catching trout from the Rio Grande River. With both girls now out of college, the pastor looked forward to an early retirement. In fact, the board was due to vote on a salary increase at the next meeting.

  After his lecture at the junior college, Max stopped by Winn Dixie. He bought some red fish, farm fresh eggs, and buttermilk. The latter was for his personal consumption. There were plans for the fish and eggs. If the prospective buyers wanted a tour, they should have a pleasant aroma to encourage their purchase. Max arrived home and placed the eggs in the air conditioner vent, then put the fish in the hallway closet underneath some towels. In a few days, the stench would permeate the entire house. In the meantime, he’d pay the bank a visit. If mother wanted him employed, he’d put his extensive knowledge of money to work.

  “Patty. My phone’s been unplugged. I may have knocked the cord out while mopping,” said Jan.

  “The buyers will be there first thing in the morning. I think they’re really interested,” Patty said.

  “Reason I called is there’s a problem. The house really stinks to high heaven. I think a coon got up in the air conditioner and died. I’m concerned. Can’t get rid of it. Went through three cans of Lysol.”

  “That’s a problem. Just keep trying. I can get a cleaning crew if that don’t work,” said Patty.

  “Thanks. The stench is something awful,” Jan said.

  Jan hung up the phone, and walked upstairs.

  “Max. Open the door!”

  “If you’re inquiring about the appalling odor, I don’t know. I believe a rat may have died inside the wall. You better call Animal Control,” Max said.

  “Can you climb up in the attic and check?” asked Jan.

  “Don’t be foolish. I have a very important chat with Hensley in five minutes. I can’t be snooping around in a musty rat den.”

  Jan shut the door and walked downstairs. She wanted to leave more than ever. Max was getting on her nerves, and Florida couldn’t get here soon enough.

  “I saw the sign in the window,” Max said.

 

  John Thompson shook the giant mass of a man’s hand.

  “You’re interested in our teller position?”

  “I’d like to run your investment banking department,” Max said.

  “Investment banking? I’m afraid we don’t have one. If you’d like to interview for our teller position, that will be fine. Did you bring your resume?”

  Thompson looked at Max; there was that enormous gut hanging below gray stretch pants, a sweat stained shirt, a blue cap pulled down to his eyes, and what appeared to be fried chicken crumbs in a scraggly beard.

  “He doesn’t look like First Angelina material,” Thompson thought.

  “Come in my office. We can have a little interview today.”

  “I want to talk salary. Nothing less than fifty thousand,” Max said.

  “The position doesn’t pay that much. We can discuss salary later. Let’s see, your resume looks like it has a bunch of web links. Do you have a list of education and previous work experience?”

  “I went to Angelina Junior one semester. I currently work in consulting.”

  “Consulting?”

  “Mainly Austrian Economics and fiscal responsibility,” Max said.

  “Austrian?”

  “You’re familiar with the two major schools of economic thought? Aren’t you?” Max asked.

  “This position is for customer service. You’ll be working the front counter. Giving change. Making deposits. Computer work,” Thompson said.

  “Not much on people but I’m an expert at computers,” Max said.

  “That’s good. What are you familiar with?”

  “Mainly web cams and online conference,” Max said.

  “I see. Are you familiar with spread sheet?”

  “I feel that it’s a useless program,” Max said.

  “Do you mind if I look up one of your links?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Thompson typed the first link in a search engine, and was led directly to the University of Texas Economics Department web page.

  “Impressive. So you write articles? This one is entitled ‘Operation Twist and QE Infinity’ that sounds interesting. What’s it about?”

  Max leaned back in his chair, and cleared his throat.

  “The reckless monetary policy of the Federal Reserve is directly responsible for the financial crisis, which in reality was no crisis at all, but rather the largest transfer of wealth in history. The central bank has become the sole buyer of US treasuries, at least eighty percent according to my calculations. The current climate of mal investment is directly related to an interest rate policy which creates an environment to gamble, since the zombie banks are insolvent, they are receiving free money with no risk. The analogy that I think well describes the current environment of monetary policy, is a heroin junkie receiving more heroin. Witness the corrupt mega banks that own the politicians, and fix the election continue to extort the duped public. The bailouts and TAARP funds have all disappeared,
thanks to crony capitalism, and Operation Twist. The latter was a failed attempt to stabilize the European Central Bank, in exchange for the Fed’s trillions, the Euro Bank promised to purchase US treasuries. This program has been exposed as an utter fraud and complete failure. Their goal is to stay in power and keep the system afloat. This means endless QE by the central banks on a global scale, the printing presses are working overtime, and the result is a quadrillion dollar derivative black hole. There is no escape. Witness the continued manipulation of the paper versus physical gold market, the naked shorting from the Wall Street banksters, the insolvency of all zombie banks, and the eventual default of the PIIGS, House of London, and finally the US. A shift of power to the East, as a new global gold backed currency emerges, and the slow gradual decline of the dollar. This is the current climate of the global economy and monetary policy set to infinity.”

  Thompson couldn’t believe his ears; this Max was some sort of freak.

  “Thank you Max. I’m very impressed.”

  “If you’re interested, I have hundreds of articles online. Professor White at the college has all my lectures taped as well.”

  “We’ll get back with you,” Thompson said.

  Max walked out of the bank, and felt confident about the job. He had big plans for First Angelina Bank.

  “I’d like you to meet Bill and Melinda Garney.”

  Patty Harris led the young couple through the front door of the house.

  “As you can see there’s plenty of room in the entry way. A nice sized kitchen on the left, complete with a built in stainless steel oven.”

  “What’s that smell?” asked Bill.

  “We believe a coon got up in the air vent,” Jan said.

  “It’s not something that happens often,” Patty said.

  “I hope not,” said Melinda.

  “Let me show you the upstairs bedrooms,” said Patty.

  The couple followed the realtor upstairs, while Jan trailed behind pondering if she should have mentioned the coon.

  “This door appears to be locked.” Bill pulled on Max’s bedroom door, but couldn’t open it.

  “Jan. Is your son home? I’d like to show the bedrooms,” Patty said.

  “I don’t believe so. He’s interviewing down at the bank.”

  “His bedroom door is locked. Does it open from the outside?” asked Patty.

  The door suddenly swung open. Max stood in the doorway. He rubbed his belly, and let out a belch.

  “You must be the buyers. I guess you heard about the rats,” Max said.

  “Rats?” asked Bill.

  “Yes. I killed three last night. One got stuck in the air vent two days ago. That is the foul stench you smell.”

  “I thought you had an interview.” Patty nervously smiled, and directed the couple over to another bedroom.

  Jan stood at the top of the stairs in disbelief.

  “That’s not all. The other night, a rattler crawled underneath my bed. I was able to subdue it after twenty minutes. There’s a giant den in the backyard.”

  “I think we should get going,” Melinda said.

  “You’re right,” Bill said.

  “Don’t you want to see the living room?” asked Patty.

  “We have another viewing. Thank you,” Bill said.

  The young couple walked down the stairs, and out the door.

  “I’m sorry,” Patty said. She went over to Jan, and tried to console her.

  Jan didn’t say anything. She just stared at her only son, and broke out in tears.

  “You didn’t want those kids buying the house. They’re barely out of diapers. If anything, I did everybody an enormous favor,” Max said.

  Patty put her arms around Jan, and then quietly walked downstairs. It was the worst showing of her career. Jan went to her bedroom and shut the door. She knew what needed to be done. It was time to leave Lufkin behind, no matter if the house sold or not.

  John Thompson wasn’t initially impressed with Max Wilson, but he did see potential. With Max’s expertise, he might be able to pull in some bigger fish. The bank needed more capital, and perhaps Max could build up a solid financial planning department. It wouldn’t be smart to let him work the front desk, however Max might be good at managing a few accounts. Since the financial crisis, Thompson saw his bank slip into the red. The federal government was bailing out the big banks, but leaving the little guys like First Angelina behind.

  “Max?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s John Thompson over at First Angelina. I’d like to offer you the job.”

  “Salary?”

  “You’ll make twenty five thousand base, but with commissions you can make more.”

  “Twenty five thousand? That’s a paltry sum. Commissions?”

  “You’re not working the front desk. I’d like you to be sort of a financial advisor. We’ll give it a try, and see how it goes.”

  “That sounds intriguing. When do I start?”

  “Come in on Monday. I’ll get you trained.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Just one more thing Max. Wear something nice. A tie and slacks would be great. We like to maintain an image of professionalism at First Angelina.”

  “Of course.”

  Max hung up the phone. A financial advisor sounded distinguished. If Thompson wanted advice, then he’d get it.

  “Mother. I got a job at the bank.”

  Jan was in the kitchen packing dishes into cardboard boxes.

  “A job? Good for you son. You’ll need one when I move.”

  “You can’t seriously be carrying out your little fantasy,” Max said.

  “The movers will be here next Friday.”

  “What about the house?”

  “It’s still on the market. Patty is going to be handling it. You’re going to have to move out. I’m cutting off all the utilities.”

  “Move out? Nonsense. I’ll live here,” Max said.

  “Patty is getting some tenants, until the house sells.”

  “What blasphemy! The harlot put this idea into your head. None of this would have come to fruition without her meddling.”

  “I suggest you start looking for an apartment. I love you son.”

  “Love? Throwing your only son to the wolves. You won’t make it one week in that dreaded swap. You and your sister will be eaten by gators.”

  Jan laughed, and continued packing. Max went upstairs and wrote down a list of necessary evils. An agenda for the next week.

  1. Church Board Meeting (The Prophecy of the Great Harlot)

  2. Operation Twist Two (Transfer of funds to Ames Fried Chicken)

  3. Death of Medusa (Removal of Patty Harris)

  4. The Credit Default Swap (Kicking the can to Florida)

  Max felt good about the list. He didn’t necessarily feel compelled to complete each task in chronological order, but would methodically dominate each one at a time.

  “BANG Records.”

  “It’s me.”

  “What’s shaking Max?”

  “Send whatever your new releases are. I need you write down a new billing address.”

  “You got it.”

  “It’s 7654 Palm Street Boca Raton, Florida 33427. Care of Marge Wilson.”

  “Done.”

  “Ship the records to the same address as usual. Look forward to hearing what you got.”

  “I think you’ll enjoy them. A new shoe gaze band called Happy Tuesday.”

  “Excellent.”

  Max called each utility company, giving each the new billing address. Since he anticipated this day, he kept old bills from each company. He explained that tenants would occupy the house, but being a good landlady the utilities would still be covered. He impersonated his mother quite well.

  Harmony Baptist held their board meeting on the last Sunday of the month. Max sat in the last row. He listened to the mundane agenda, even winching when a pay
raise was approved for Pastor Ray. The last part of the meeting was open to the congregation. Although Max hadn’t attended church in twenty years, his full fledged membership was still on the books.

  “Now we open up the floor to our members. You’re welcome to come up and speak or bring a concern to the body.” The deacon sat down, and left the podium empty.

  Max stood up, and began his slow walk up front. The few members in attendance turned their eyes to him. Some laughed under their breath, while others sat up straight with anticipation. Max got behind the podium, and gave a quick glance in Pastor Ray’s direction.