//This has been posted to my blog for years; it is at
http://www.verybigdesign.com/jmowreader if you're interested...//
By now, we all know the ten-men metaphor Hannity has been using to sneer at liberals' objections to tax cuts on the rich.
Sean Hannity being a right-winger and an admitted fascist, he tends to leave out a few things. Here's the whole story:
Every night, a group of ten friends met for dinner. They'd served together on the USS Forrestal in Vietnam, so no one thought it unusual that four schoolteachers, a garbage truck driver, a machinist, a plumber, a chiropractor, a lawyer and the president of the bank dined at the same restaurant every night.
Because teachers don't make as much as garbage truck drivers, who don't make as much as chiropractors, and because the restaurant's owner was also a Vietnam veteran, a special selection was prepared just for these men.
The schoolteachers each received a pizza and a soft drink for free
The garbage truck driver got a bacon cheeseburger and a beer for $1
The machinist ate chef's salad and a glass of white wine for $3
The plumber got a sirloin steak, baked potato and a glass of the house red wine for $7
The chiropractor had steak and shrimp, steak fries and a bottle of the house red for $12
The lawyer ate prime rib with a well-dressed baked potato and a bottle of French wine for $18
The bank president had veal cordon bleu, two lobster tails, chilled vegetable appetizer, three fine brandies, a bottle of the finest white wine in the cellar and a Punch After Dinner cigar for $59.
Everyone was happy as hell. The schoolteachers loved pizza (and loved the fact that it was free even more), the plumber thought seven dollars for a steak dinner was more than fair, and none of the other nine could figure out how the bank president managed to eat that much food every night.
Coincidentally, the total bill came to $100.
Now, while all this was going on, the restaurant's management noticed something: People thought that if the bank president ate at the same restaurant every night, it must be an excellent one--and the restaurant's sales soared. We must do something for this man!
They fiddled with his menu a bit; now he receives escargots for his appetizer course, a Caesar salad prepared tableside and instead of a Punch After Dinner cigar, he's lighting up a genuine Cohiba Esplendido, rolled on the thigh of a Cuban virgin and smuggled into the United States at great risk and expense. Also, his bill has been reduced by seven dollars.
The owner walked into the office and asked what his maitre 'd and executive chef were doing. When he found out, he was furious. "I'm a brownwater sailor! If it weren't for those ten men, I wouldn't be here today. Cut their total bill to $80!"
Well, let's see...we reduced his bill by seven dollars and ran up his food cost by twenty. If we are to break even on these ten sailors, we'll have to play with the food cost on the meals of the other nine.
Hence, the schoolteachers have gone from a whole, freshly made pizza to half a frozen one (and the kind you get at Wal-Mart for a buck apiece, to boot), the garbage truck driver's also getting frozen pizza, the machinist's chef salad has become a "vegan" chef's salad (the meat, eggs and cheese have been removed from the recipe), the plumber's steak is now as tough as the soles of his combat boots, shrimp has become a memory for the chiropractor and the "well-dressed" part of the lawyer's baked potato is now a lump of the cheapest margarine they can find.
As the other nine watch the waiter whisking and tossing the bank president's Caesar salad, they look at their suddenly diminished rations and wonder what's up.
The restaurant manager comes out to mollify them. "Men of the Forrestal! You're all receiving a reduction in your bill--well, except for the four schoolteachers who didn't have anywhere else to go. The total bill's now $80! Doesn't that make you feel good?" The garbage truck driver holds up his hunk of frozen pizza. "I liked what I had before. If I pay you a dollar can I have my burger back?" 'No, that's not the way the cut works." The same response answered the request for little hunks of meat for the machinist's salad, a meat tenderizing hammer for the plumber's boot-sole steak and some sour cream for the lawyer's potato.
It was nine carrier sailors against one riverine warrior; the nine won in the end. With his arm twisted behind his back, the owner admits to shortchanging everyone so he'd still make a little profit after giving the bank president such a huge reward for making his business so successful.
The nine took action. They grab their former friend, beat him until he's in critical condition, and throw him through the front window.
Things are never the same at the restaurant after that. Now that the bank president no longer eats at this restaurant, diners are eating at the hospital's cafeteria. (If the bank president eats there every day, mainly because they won't let him leave until all 212 of the bones his buddies broke heal, it must be a good place.) Within a few months, the restaurant fails and is sold--to the nine blue-water sailors who threw the bank president out the window. Their first acts are to change the name to "The Nine Swabbies Grill," to post a sign in the window reading "no dogs or bank presidents allowed," and to throw away all of the frozen pizza.
Business is good now at The Nine Swabbies. After all, if the bank president used to eat there, it must be a good place.