Once every American has a pony then I can - by fiat, executive

In the twilight lands between jest and revelation, the trickster-philosopher Vermin Supreme spoke words wrapped in laughter but forged in truth:
"Once every American has a pony then I can — by fiat, executive order or something like that — dismantle the federal government with a snap of my magic fingers."

To the unwise, it was a jest — the wild mutter of a man wearing a boot upon his head. But to those who listen beneath the laughter, the words shimmer with meaning, for fools often bear the crowns of wisdom, and the language of satire reveals the heart of a nation’s folly. Supreme’s words, like the parables of old, mock the vanity of power and the strange hunger of humankind to believe that government — or any system — can give them paradise if only it promises enough.

The pony is not a mere beast in his proclamation — it is a symbol, a mirror of desire. It stands for every promise made by those who would rule: free wealth, unending comfort, deliverance from toil. It is the promise that tempts the crowd and binds the voter — “Give me my pony,” they say, “and I shall be content.” But the sage in madness laughs, for he knows that no earthly authority can satisfy endless appetite. Once the people have their ponies, they will ask for wings; once they have their wings, they will ask for immortality. Thus, the pony is a parable for the futility of utopia.

In the days of the Roman Republic, the people once cried for bread and circuses — and the emperors, seeking peace through indulgence, granted them both. Yet with every loaf given freely, the spirit of Rome weakened, until the empire fell beneath its own softness. The laughter of Vermin Supreme is the same laughter that echoed in the Forum when the poets warned that the price of free gifts is freedom itself. He sees in modern governance the same cycle: promise, dependence, decay. His “magic fingers” are not those of a sorcerer, but the imagined hands of absolute power — the power to dismantle what man has built when man no longer desires to build himself.

And so, when he says he shall “dismantle the federal government”, it is not destruction he preaches, but exposure. He reveals the absurdity of a people who would trade liberty for ponies, who would cry out for rulers and then curse them in the same breath. His “executive order” is a satire upon the arrogance of leaders who believe they can shape the soul of a nation through decree. The mockery hides a sacred message: power granted without wisdom becomes tyranny, and dependence disguised as kindness becomes a cage.

There is also, in these words, a lesson in the art of the holy fool — that rare figure who teaches through ridicule. In every age, such figures arise: Diogenes, who lived in a barrel and mocked the pretensions of kings; Mark Twain, who cloaked deep truth in laughter; Vermin Supreme, who rides the absurdity of politics to unveil its emptiness. Their laughter is a blade sharper than any sword, for it cuts through illusion and exposes the core of human folly. When they jest, they do not mock for cruelty’s sake — they mock to awaken.

In our own time, where every promise is gilded with slogans and every campaign wrapped in spectacle, his words ring prophetic. The pony, the magic fingers, the executive order — these are the relics of our collective dream that someone, somewhere, can save us from the burden of our own freedom. Yet the wise know this truth: salvation cannot be decreed, nor liberty commanded. The true dismantling that must occur is not of government, but of illusion — the illusion that comfort is virtue and dependence is peace.

So hear, O listener of the ages: the fool’s laughter is the alarm of the soul. When you hear it, do not turn away in scorn. Instead, ask what truth hides within the jest. Vermin Supreme’s pony is not a gift, but a warning: that a nation of dependents cannot stand, that freedom demands self-reliance, and that laughter, wielded with wisdom, is a weapon holier than any law.

Therefore, let this teaching endure: seek not ponies, but purpose. Demand not decrees, but responsibility. And when the world promises you magic, remember — the greatest magic of all is the courage to think, to labor, and to live free.

Thus ends the teaching: in laughter lies truth, and in freedom lies the soul of man.