Things have changed over the years in the good old Home of the Brave. It seems that sometime between the Progressive era (1890 to 1920) and the post war years our little Republic started to become an increasingly expensive, unresponsive, and out of touch behemoth running amok. This worrisome development has continued unabated to the present day. As the old maxim says, "Follow the money." I'd like to suggest we update these wise words to read, "Follow the money because the debt will stalk you and your children."
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| Source: Wikipedia |
If you're not a numbers person, how about following your feelings? The most recent report card on how Americans feel about their Federal Legislature shows that approval ratings have ebbed to the current low tide level of 11%. In my estimation, that's on par with a dictatorial regime's approval ratings or maybe Coke II's consumer satisfaction, but not for our very own freely elected representatives!
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| Aim for the Porch Light! (I'll let you in on the joke shortly.) |
What gives? We put these jamokes in office and then we despise them? Is it us? Are we really that fickle? Maybe as candidates they spent too much time lying to us while racing down the campaign trail. That would keep our hands clean as we discreetly assign blame and move on to topics which cultivate less gray hairs and facial wrinkles.
But wait! There is that miniscule possibility that we spend too much time accepting, and even believing their lies. This not so tidey answer comes and roosts on our shoulders a bit too heavy.
We could subtract at least half our burden by adding, "You have to admit, those front runners and their dark horses put on a hell of a good show before the election. I mean, they actually seemed... uh... honest."
But now, in the early days of December their promises engraved in granite just thirty short days ago are beginning to smell like some other solids dispersed among the kitty litter... again.
The problem is that no matter how much their words resonated in your soul, no matter how much they knew what you've been going through, they don't give a "kitty litter solid" about you.
Oh, they needed your vote to get elected, but then for the most part you have served your purpose like long overdue litter. So, the next election cycle you return the favor, "Out with the old and in with the new... poo." Back and forth, the turd tossing ballot by attrition is cast for a candidate whose promises were never meant to last into the new year. The distraught football fan has the next season, and we wounded voters have the election. Be of good cheer!
We, the People, will have our day again on eleven eleven. The liars get the intervening four agonizing years in which to fabricate more sweet fraudulence for our eager ears.
Personally, I pass the time fantasizing about shooting out my representative's porch light at a minimum semi-annual basis. This pleasant thought shatters the repetitive motion, mental carpal tunnel of ballot box regret.
Forgive me Founding Fathers for I have sinned. I voted for my last catbox solid candidate six months ago. What vexes me is Why? I haven't the foggiest, Fathers. I do not know. But I can tell you is his porch light is visible from six hundred yards or so.
I remember proudly pushing the chad next to his or her name... because the other candidate was Beelzebub! Electing a demon would be insane. Give me absolution Fathers, that I may commit this lesser sin again.
I must confess, this is the sad state to which our nation state has decayed: We vote against the person whom we know to be Satan We have proof. Ergo, we vote for the person with the slightly less pronounced cloven hoof. Ergo, error go.
Following this illogic, we're not really voting. The process of selecting the people of power is much akin to playing Russian roulette with a single shot, bolt-action rifle. That's not a pretty picture for the greatest and most rocking nation on the planet. But that's what we get evil Republicans or wicked Democrats. Beelzebub or the bullet. Trick or... trick.
This "heads lose your heads, tails lose your tails" political reality might explain our increasing and enduring sense of despondence expressed numerically in our Congressional disapproval.
The only holy way out of this inferno is to opt out of the political trauma center system all together. Thus avoiding both the Prince of Darkness and the lesser minion of the dark realm you'd support by default.
- There's a couple parties that only care about white people.
- There's three that are only concerned with black people.
- A half-dozen are Socialist or have "Socialist" in their names. Every one of these insist that they are the only "real Socialists". The others are bourgeois.
- A growing slate have a "green" hue. The Mountain Party is opposed to coal mining in West Virginia. Talk about single issue politics!
- My former political home, the Libertarian Party is still active and actively going nowhere. I guess freedom doesn't rally much interest in a nation dependent on the monthly ebb and flow of Treasury checks.
Praise God! You would NEVER vote for Beelzebub! That is why you have ALWAYS voted for a lesser Demon of the Dark Realm.
At least he will be after you shoot out his porch light.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Should any reader extrapolate the insane idea that I am endorsing shooting any porch lights out, I will lose all respect for you as a human being and there will be no ice cream for you. It will be too hot where you're going.
