Josepania
Establishing Nation
Palacio Presidencial, Palmira, Isla de San José, Gran República Archipelágica de San José
12/10/2021, 1400hrs
The gentle rocking of the chair was timed well with the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shores, a sound that never got old even after many decades of listening to what some Josefinos described as the heartbeat of San José. It could be heard over the merrymaking of tourists and natives alike, it rumbled beneath the din of commuting traffic, it was part of every aspect of the lives of Josefinos and Josefinas everywhere, even those who lived as inland as geographically possible. Even there, in the remote corners of the islands, the waves could still be heard, breathing life into San José.
Presidente José Constanza sipped on his Josefino Libre with a content smile on his face, watching the sun pass from east to west on his private balcony from the Palacio Presidencial. He had just returned from a fantastic celebratory getaway in Würzwald, Eiffelland following a successful peace deal in Chagny of the Holy Frankish Empire. It was safe to say, at least in the humble opinion of El Presidente, that he had single-handedly averted a Second Great War from consuming Gallo-Germania, and the celebration of Oktoberfest in Eiffelland was the least that could be done to thank the Josefino leader for his titanic efforts to forge peace from the blistering hot metal of war. That was the impression his hosts had given him at any rate, and the cheering crowds in Palmira when he finally returned home certainly helped with that self-perception as well.
Still, it wasn't all joyous and pleasant, the Josefino learned as a mild scowl crept across his face, which retreated when he took a light drag from a lit joint. The Archipelagic Congressmen had also greeted him and praised him for his efforts, but it was no thanks to them that San José had accomplished what it did. The Congress had, in fact, made no effort whatsoever to truly contribute to this monumental, prestigious occasion. They had instead bickered and quarreled at home, dragging their feet as much as possible to prevent San José from coming anywhere near war, even if it was forced upon them by a war-hungry Frankish Emperor, because it hurt their bottom lines with the tourist industry. It was unlike them to be so unresponsive to El Presidente and the will of the people, but it wasn't the first time they had shown such stubbornness. Presidente Constanza reflected on the delays in regards to the affordable housing project that the Natalians and Ostmarkers had tried to help with, and how they were stuck in bureaucratic hell for so long in the Archipelagic Congress before the bill finally passed. Officially, it was to ensure that environmental regulations and standardized building codes were followed to letter after agonizing letter. Unofficially, the Congressmen did their damndest to skim off the top as much as they could feasibly get away with, and they had managed to get away with much, much more than Presidente Constanza truly understood until now.
The marijuana did little to keep the scowl from returning at that thought, so a quick sip of Josefino Coffee next to El Presidente completed the infamous Josefino Cocktail of drugs now coursing through his system, which took the edge off his frustration somewhat. It was true that this was simply how business was done in San José. It's how it had always been done even before the Collectivist Revolution of 1950 led by Presidente Constanza's grandfather, which then ushered in the presidency of Constanza's father, and then Constanza himself. Corruption was just an acceptable, normal way to do politics, regardless of ideology, and allow for anything at all to get done in San José and neatly paper over the hypocrisy of a democracy without much actual democratic practice, railing against exploitation from abroad while turning a blind eye to exploitation at home. All in San José professed their undying belief in the Global Exploitation Conspiracy, to varying degrees of passion, but El Presidente was the most aware of its hypocrisy, and recent events at home and abroad had led him to reconsider the rot he had let fester at home for too long.
The success of the Anarchistisch-Kollektivistische Allianz political party in Eiffelland, jumping from three-quarters of a percentage point to nearly seven and a half percent of the vote, with a gain of seventy-six seats in the legislature, showed the true soft power of El Presidente and the ideology he spread to the international world. This on the heels of the revolution he inspired in Socialist Zara, and now with the peace he had crafted in Chagny. It was Presidente Constanza who truly embodied the will of the people, of collectivism, of freedom from the Global Exploitation Conspiracy, not these corrupt Archipelagic Congressmen and bureaucrats of the Grand Archipelagic Republic. He understood all too clearly now that the Collectivist Revolution had been stalled, perhaps for justifiable reasons back when his grandfather and father were in control, but justifiable no longer. And the hypocrisy was eating at him. It was felt in the sneers from people and governments of democratic nations in response to the genuine love El Presidente had for the people. Was it truly inconceivable that agents had not also penetrated the very heart of the Free New World itself, San José, and corrupted its revolution from within? Perhaps it wasn't so inconceivable after all.
With a sigh, Presidente Constanza took a much larger sip of the Josefino Libre, the rum coursing through his veins and enhancing the wonderful buzz from the Josefino Cocktail that took a much stronger hold of his body, bringing a wondrous tingling sensation that few could accurately (or coherently) describe. His mind remained focused though, and though the anger receded, the conclusion had not: the Global Exploitation Conspiracy was within San José, and it threatened everything El Presidente stood for, fought for, worked for throughout his term. This was not acceptable.
He had to reform the revolution, bring true power to the people, and usher in what they had waited for nearly seventy-two years to achieve: peace, prosperity, progress, and paradise which stemmed from it all. He would outshine both his grandfather and father in what he brought to San José, finally expel the Global Exploitation Conspiracy from San José, and be the most popular man on Twatter in the history of mankind. It would be glorious.
The chair rocked with the waves, never missing a beat despite the trip the Josefino leader was going through right now. He would have to begin making plans soon, but that could wait until he sobered up. For now, he rested within the embrace of the sounds of his land, his people, who he would fight so hard for. And they would love him for it.
As it should be.
12/10/2021, 1400hrs
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The gentle rocking of the chair was timed well with the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shores, a sound that never got old even after many decades of listening to what some Josefinos described as the heartbeat of San José. It could be heard over the merrymaking of tourists and natives alike, it rumbled beneath the din of commuting traffic, it was part of every aspect of the lives of Josefinos and Josefinas everywhere, even those who lived as inland as geographically possible. Even there, in the remote corners of the islands, the waves could still be heard, breathing life into San José.
Presidente José Constanza sipped on his Josefino Libre with a content smile on his face, watching the sun pass from east to west on his private balcony from the Palacio Presidencial. He had just returned from a fantastic celebratory getaway in Würzwald, Eiffelland following a successful peace deal in Chagny of the Holy Frankish Empire. It was safe to say, at least in the humble opinion of El Presidente, that he had single-handedly averted a Second Great War from consuming Gallo-Germania, and the celebration of Oktoberfest in Eiffelland was the least that could be done to thank the Josefino leader for his titanic efforts to forge peace from the blistering hot metal of war. That was the impression his hosts had given him at any rate, and the cheering crowds in Palmira when he finally returned home certainly helped with that self-perception as well.
Still, it wasn't all joyous and pleasant, the Josefino learned as a mild scowl crept across his face, which retreated when he took a light drag from a lit joint. The Archipelagic Congressmen had also greeted him and praised him for his efforts, but it was no thanks to them that San José had accomplished what it did. The Congress had, in fact, made no effort whatsoever to truly contribute to this monumental, prestigious occasion. They had instead bickered and quarreled at home, dragging their feet as much as possible to prevent San José from coming anywhere near war, even if it was forced upon them by a war-hungry Frankish Emperor, because it hurt their bottom lines with the tourist industry. It was unlike them to be so unresponsive to El Presidente and the will of the people, but it wasn't the first time they had shown such stubbornness. Presidente Constanza reflected on the delays in regards to the affordable housing project that the Natalians and Ostmarkers had tried to help with, and how they were stuck in bureaucratic hell for so long in the Archipelagic Congress before the bill finally passed. Officially, it was to ensure that environmental regulations and standardized building codes were followed to letter after agonizing letter. Unofficially, the Congressmen did their damndest to skim off the top as much as they could feasibly get away with, and they had managed to get away with much, much more than Presidente Constanza truly understood until now.
The marijuana did little to keep the scowl from returning at that thought, so a quick sip of Josefino Coffee next to El Presidente completed the infamous Josefino Cocktail of drugs now coursing through his system, which took the edge off his frustration somewhat. It was true that this was simply how business was done in San José. It's how it had always been done even before the Collectivist Revolution of 1950 led by Presidente Constanza's grandfather, which then ushered in the presidency of Constanza's father, and then Constanza himself. Corruption was just an acceptable, normal way to do politics, regardless of ideology, and allow for anything at all to get done in San José and neatly paper over the hypocrisy of a democracy without much actual democratic practice, railing against exploitation from abroad while turning a blind eye to exploitation at home. All in San José professed their undying belief in the Global Exploitation Conspiracy, to varying degrees of passion, but El Presidente was the most aware of its hypocrisy, and recent events at home and abroad had led him to reconsider the rot he had let fester at home for too long.
The success of the Anarchistisch-Kollektivistische Allianz political party in Eiffelland, jumping from three-quarters of a percentage point to nearly seven and a half percent of the vote, with a gain of seventy-six seats in the legislature, showed the true soft power of El Presidente and the ideology he spread to the international world. This on the heels of the revolution he inspired in Socialist Zara, and now with the peace he had crafted in Chagny. It was Presidente Constanza who truly embodied the will of the people, of collectivism, of freedom from the Global Exploitation Conspiracy, not these corrupt Archipelagic Congressmen and bureaucrats of the Grand Archipelagic Republic. He understood all too clearly now that the Collectivist Revolution had been stalled, perhaps for justifiable reasons back when his grandfather and father were in control, but justifiable no longer. And the hypocrisy was eating at him. It was felt in the sneers from people and governments of democratic nations in response to the genuine love El Presidente had for the people. Was it truly inconceivable that agents had not also penetrated the very heart of the Free New World itself, San José, and corrupted its revolution from within? Perhaps it wasn't so inconceivable after all.
With a sigh, Presidente Constanza took a much larger sip of the Josefino Libre, the rum coursing through his veins and enhancing the wonderful buzz from the Josefino Cocktail that took a much stronger hold of his body, bringing a wondrous tingling sensation that few could accurately (or coherently) describe. His mind remained focused though, and though the anger receded, the conclusion had not: the Global Exploitation Conspiracy was within San José, and it threatened everything El Presidente stood for, fought for, worked for throughout his term. This was not acceptable.
He had to reform the revolution, bring true power to the people, and usher in what they had waited for nearly seventy-two years to achieve: peace, prosperity, progress, and paradise which stemmed from it all. He would outshine both his grandfather and father in what he brought to San José, finally expel the Global Exploitation Conspiracy from San José, and be the most popular man on Twatter in the history of mankind. It would be glorious.
The chair rocked with the waves, never missing a beat despite the trip the Josefino leader was going through right now. He would have to begin making plans soon, but that could wait until he sobered up. For now, he rested within the embrace of the sounds of his land, his people, who he would fight so hard for. And they would love him for it.
As it should be.