ERT #2: On the Completely and Outrageously Sucky Nature of Politics
Oh, what a shambles the political world of the United States is in. Not only are Democrats hating Republicans and
Republicans hating Democrats, but also are they now hating each other in their own parties. To paraphrase a quote from
Norm on the old TV show "Cheers", it's a dog-eat-dog world, and those guys are all wearing Milkbone underwear. They're
all out for special interests, they're all out for themselves, they're all out for that good old public eye. They're all
out for the old quid-pro-quo — I do something for you, so you can do something (more valuable) for me in the future.
(They never forget that you owe them, either!) And they're all out for making everyone else look bad in this whole process.
They'll lie through their teeth — no, they'll lie through every damn pore in their body — to accomplish it. They'll tell you
what you want to hear, no matter if you're pro- or anti- gun control, birth control, gay rights, Medicare, sadomasochism,
affirmative action, whatever. They'd tell you you're pretty to your face, but if some tobacco company with big lobby power
and big money thinks you're ugly, that's what they'll tell the ones with more money. All they really care about is lining
their wallets with some of that green-and-white notepaper. My God, those scum will treat abortion, one of the most personal
issues possible, as if it were some political football they could toss around to pick up some paltry votes from the hoi polloi.
Those scum want to decide whether the fetus in the mother's stomach is theirs for the taking. They'll say anything to get
elected, then they'll blow the raspberry at you when they get in. "Ha, ha… you voted me in, now I can do whatever I want…
hey, you believed me, I don't care!" Their slick smiles, reassuring winks, and $gazillion outfits shouldn't matter, but
they do love to take advantage of the gullibility of the public eye. Their speeches, with their rehearsed pauses for
applause, play upon the hearts of the millions with their oh-so-carefully-chosen, I'm-so-smart-but-I'm-only-talking-to-you-like-this-because-I-want-all-of-you-to-like-me-and-vote-for-me
diction (well, not their diction, their speechwriter's diction… ahem…). Their public appearances, oh, they'll kiss your
babies, give you buttons, give your children stickers, and shake your hands, but it'll cost you $googolplex to have the
infinite pleasure of being in the same universe as they are. And taxes, oh, goodness, don't even get me started on taxes.
Property taxes, income taxes, sales taxes, car taxes, inheritance taxes, luxury taxes, do I dare go on? They love to find
new and inventive ways to siphon off your hard-earned dough for their benefit. My God, I'm surprised they haven't tried to
tax their own brains for having the ultimate privilege of being rooted in their unquestionably superior bodies. And they
wonder why people like Willie Nelson are beyond ticked at the government! Oh, but rich people are exempt. If you're rich,
and you know a politician, you're set for life. You get the breaks. You get the benefits. You don't have to pay as much
to the government as the detritus waaaaay down there in the lower and middle class, who weren't as fortunate as to have rich
mommies and daddies and surrogate politician parents who paid for their educations, their cars, their houses, and their friends.
(How do you think that dumb-bunny potatoe-farmer [ahem] Dan Quayle got to be vice president? Dear ol' loaded dad, of course!)
And as much as they say they're sympathetic for the common man, don't go for that. Unless they think that the rich, snobbed-up,
Armani-suited, elitist crowd is common, of course. (And it's not a stretch to believe that some of those scum might think so.)
And it's impossible for a rich, higher-up guy to understand the relative plight of the common person. No matter how much they
claim it — no matter how much they travel to rural farms in Southwest Nowheresville, USA, and pose for publicity press pictures
with people in overalls, no matter how much they visit local senior centers to do comedy routines to be seen as sympathetic to
the "ordinary" elderly, no matter whatever — they are way beyond those people. At least they think they are. They may well be
beyond those people, actually. They sure love to remind people about that, though! God, how those scum find people who actually
like them is beyond me. Maybe they don't… maybe it's all quid pro quo. You like me, I give you something. (Wink, wink, toothy
grin, handshake, flash bulb, flash bulb.)
See, I know that politics can be a really good thing… but those politicians sully the profession so much that it's damn near
irreparably damaged. For as much good as I know I could do in government, I don't want that reputation. I would never want to
be a politician, nor would I want any child of mine to be one. It is a fate I would not wish upon my worst enemies. Well,
actually, check that. Yes, I would wish that fate on my worst enemies. It is a harsh gauntlet. To be a politician is to be
beaten from all sides, to be buffeted by your enemies, to be stabbed in the back… and to do the very same thing back to them.
Well, you know, it's only fair. Quid pro quo!
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