Philadelphia is in the south-east corner of Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh is in the south-west corner.
The rest of the state is known as “The T”. The “T” is the shape of the area of Pennsylvania that Philadelphians regard as their own latifundia-like slave farm, factories, and mines. The “T” is worked by modern versions of Rome’s slaves.
Since the days when the Penn family literally owned the entire state, we “T-people” have been accustomed to being relentlessly taxed to support Philadelphia’s ravenous mob.
Every possible dollar is taken from the “T” and sent, often by armed guard, to Philadelphia. Today, thanks to e-mail, the well-connected of Philadelphia have the deposits go straight into their accounts without the inconvenience of opening envelopes and trudging to crowded banks to make deposits.
On some holidays, truckloads of cash taken from the “T” is distributed directly from the spreaders of passing salt trucks to the throngs of drunken Philadelphians who line the sidewalks screaming, “More! More!” while bands play rousing music.
Every Philadelphian learns the “Poem of Philadelphia” at a very early age:
Poem of Philadelphia.
“Take more money from the ‘T’.
Then, give some of it to me.
And, I will vote for you.
People in the ‘T’ are cretins,
Keep them trodden down and beaten.
And, I will vote for you.
Take away their cars and houses.
Make them give up kids and spouses.
And, I will vote for you.
They’re mindless cattle, dumb as flies.
Make their taxes really high.
And, I will vote for you.
Pay our teachers who won’t teach.
Buy me a house on the beach.
And, I will vote for you.
Bribe and bully whom you must,
Grind their faces in the dust,
And, I will vote for you.
Kids in day care, moms at work
Make ’em pay, they’re wretched jerks.
And I will vote for you.
We cannot make an honest living
So, you have to keep them giving
Cash to Philadelphia.
