A Modest Proposal…

…with apologies to Jonathan Swift and kudos to Patty-Pat Kozlowski.

Satire, in this nation, is a dying genre — mainly because political life has become sufficiently surreal as to make satire and farce useless.

Here, however, is one Philadelphian’s response to recent current event.

1. Sprinkle Tax: They’re jimmies – not sprinkles! How about a $1 fine added to the cost of your ice cream cone if you say you want “sprinkles” instead of “jimmies”? (“Sprinkles” is the incontinent clown you’ll never hire again for little Johnnie’s birthday.)

2. Butt-Crack Tax: Very simple, pull up your pants or give us a dollar. Don’t want to see your boxers, your briefs, your crack or your tattoo. And go buy a belt before we start a no-belt tax, too.

3. Pajama Party Tax: I know, the city had that catchy slogan, “Philly’s More Fun When You Sleep Over.” (I even used it as a pickup line, but it never, ever worked.) An alarming number of Philadelphians go through the day still in their pajamas.

Read the rest yourself… and hope that no one in Hartford or Washington is taking notes…