“Bravo, Boss. With so much philosophy we can even save on cement.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.”
The Parking Lot
Keeping in mind the existence of innumerable individuals from among the people, the clergy, and even the nobility, who do not understand anything about engines or automobiles, the Boss said, “Enough!”
And after gaining momentum, uttered the following declaration:
“Enough!”
“Which means …?” someone asked.
“It means that it’s enough,” clarified the Boss.
“Enough, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
The old democratic tradition of giving cars of different qualities, according to the hierarchical position of the receiver, just did not seem adequate to him.
He thought it was important that, at first glance, even an absolute ignoramus who knew nothing about brands, the pickup, and the engine should be able to distinguish a mere director-general from a minister.
It was for this excellent reason that he recommenced lauding the nonpolluting benefits of bicycles traversing the city.
Bicycles: do you know of any technology that is more modern than bicycles?
Thus, in the parking lot reserved for elements of the government, there was now space for: one automobile, two motorcycles, four bicycles, nine horses; and there was even space for more than twenty donkeys.
As the prevailing norms about respect for the hierarchy affirm, and despite the difference in speeds attained on straight stretches, those who came on donkeys habitually arrived first.
“It’s child’s play,” said Mister Kraus. “When politicians speak to us from the heavens above, and point their fingers upward saying, See? it’s then, at that precise moment, that we should be looking attentively at the objects they have in their cellars.”
About an Enlightened Government
There were so many ministers that during general meetings it was necessary to hire one of those ushers from the cinema theater whose job was to take viewers to their designated seat.
Since, by an age-old tradition, cabinet meetings — just like films — were held in the dark, the usher with his flashlight was (literally) the only one who could see something before him.
As each minister arrived, the usher took him, always guided by his little flashlight, through the various rows, until they reached his place in the cabinet.
“This row, third chair from the far side.”
Apologizing to the other ministers, the new arrival made his way to his seat, stepping on people’s feet more or less frequently.
As soon as the man with the flashlight left, the hall became pitch dark, without a speck of light to be seen; and it had thus become a normal practice for the Boss to immediately say, calming his colleagues with his voice, “I am here, I am here!”
After they had located the Boss, by the sound of his voice, the meeting would begin.
Seated in his habitual chair, hunched over, Mister Kraus prepared his next chronicles and scribbled some notes in his notebook.
“Causes” of an enigmatic constitution
He complained that he did not even have time to eat, he was so dedicated to the public cause. However, he increasingly put on weight. Thus, everybody around him was convinced that the public cause had a lot in common with an excess of calories.
Reasons for resigning
Any nation must be managed sensibly and by means of a careful and considered use of intelligence. Thus, whenever a politician falls in love, he should immediately give up his seat.
Verbal punctuality
A certain politician repeated the same words so many times at the same monotonous rhythm that his colleagues used to set the hour hand on their watches according to the word “freedom” and the minute hand according to the word “democracy.”
Legal, and Other, Decisions
1
“Since I am a human being, any approved law that harms even a single individual is a law that persecutes me as an individual. At least that’s how I see it.”
These were words of solidarity from the Boss, who was very attached to the population — all the more since there was now a pressing need to put an end to the constant protests that had begun to appear after any changes were made in the law.
It was just that, in fact, there was always a group of people who felt harmed.
The legislators then tried to create a law that did not harm anyone, not even a single person; but they were unable to do so.
Even when they made laws about the trees or the wind, it never worked. There were always protests. And human protests.
But the Boss insisted, “Make a law that does not harm anyone, not a single person, not a senior citizen, nor a wretch. That’s all I ask.”
“What you are asking for is not a law, Boss, it’s a miracle,” said the Assistants.
“And who deals with this kind of special law?” immediately asked the Boss.
Suddenly, the hall fell silent.
The Assistants were embarrassed. Nobody knew how to give the Boss a definite answer.
At the back of the hall, in the midst of the general silence and immobility, one of the new Assistants dared to raise his hand.
“Tell me, Mister Assistant, there at the back.”
“Boss, I don’t know the entire organogram, but if there is no governmental department responsible for miracles, I suggest that one be created.”
“An excellent idea,” said the Boss, enthused.
However, from the expression on his face, one could immediately see that this solution raised new and profound questions: Would there be enough space on the sheet of paper used for the organogram to accommodate yet another department?
2
The legislator arrived almost leaping with enthusiasm: he had found a formula for a decree that seemed to fulfill the objective: to make a law that did not harm anyone.
“And what is this formula, my dear legislator?”
“It’s simple. Here it is.” And he read, “This law decides that this law does not decide anything.”
“But is that a law?”
“If this sentence — because, essentially, Excellency, laws are sentences — if this sentence were published as a legal decree it would become a decree-law.”
“This law decides that this law does not decide anything,” murmured the Boss to himself, like someone repeating a verse that fascinates him.