Just takin’ my turn at
the annual gasbaggery…
The sole terrain feature behind my new place is a big pile of reddish fried sand welling up through a busted crust of sunbaked caliche. My dog Sancho Panza loves the tactical height advantage. He’s got the local jackrabbit population totally bamboozled. He doesn’t try to catch ’em—he herds ’em. That’s what Border Collies do. Since there’s no pen to put them in, once they’re gathered up, exhausted and frozen in place, he barks at ’em like, “Dismissed, ya dummies,” and saunters away.
It’s also a great perch from which to pontificate, so I used it for my first annual State of the Sandpile address. I figured since every gasbag from the president to the Grand Poobah of Putterville has recently delivered their State of the Union, State of the State, State of the City and State of the Snollygoster speeches, why shouldn’t I? Herewith, some tattered shreds and remnants from my marathon 8-hour a cappella and sans-teleprompter tirade.
Comments to Congress:
Dear Congress: I don’t want to have to tell my grandchildren that America was once a great country, and have them disbelieve it. And I don’t want them to arrive at adulthood and find you’ve used them as your “line of credit.” I’ve done my part, pulled more than my load and you ought to be accountable for pulling your load, too. If I have to pull yours, it may be with a rope. Think about that.
We have way too many laws already, but here are a few I’d like to propose: No more payroll tax withholding. Everybody would have to sit down once or twice a month and write checks to the feds and their state treasurers for their taxes. Yeah, it would be a huge pain in the neck, but all of a sudden, millions of people would be awakened and enraged by the wasteful, excessive and often criminal spending of their hard-earned bucks.
Withholding is a narcotic, deadening taxpayers’ senses to the process of governmental pickpocketry. It’s like puttin’ frogs in a pot of cool water and slowly bringing it to a boil: the frogs aren’t moved to kick and jump until it’s too late. Writing those checks would be like shots of adrenaline. I predict legislators’ lives would quickly become less than comfy-cozy. That’s OK with me. I believe our liberties are never safer than when politicians are a little bit, umm…terrified. And let’s prohibit use of the fallacious term “redistribution of wealth.” For most of us it amounts to “taking whatever you’ve got left and giving it away to others.” Let’s make ’em use that phrase and see how it flies.
Pre-Vote Testing: Before any bill is put to a vote in Congress, members must pass a witnessed written test, to show they understand it in full and know its consequences and costs. If they refuse or fail, they can’t vote on that bill, and “Unqualified” is entered in the records. No substitutes, no staff members “delegated” to take it. Here’s another radical idea: If the bill is theirs—and it passes, and costs exceed 50 percent over projections, the bill’s authors have 50 percent of their salary diverted to pay off the excess costs—right into their lavishly paid pension years if necessary. Think that might achieve some belt-tightening?
“We’ve got to pass it so you can see what’s in it.” Remember that one? While we’re at it, let’s have a law that says if any legislator standing by a pile of paper utters words to that effect, they are immediately thrown out of office. Through the window. The closed window. We’ve gotta pass it so we can see what’s in it? That’s the rule for stool samples, ya morons—not laws! We could put a person’s name on that law, but let’s just call it “The Kabuki Witch Law” and everyone will know anyway.
It seems to me that most of your efforts are bent toward controlling and “regulating” people like me; military veterans, hard-working taxpayers and folks who would not willingly or knowingly violate any law. If I were meant to be controlled, I woulda come with a remote. I didn’t. You may think of yourself as one of the Good Guys in Congress, and maybe, just maybe, you are. I know there is a smattering of Good Guys within that pile of snakes. But you belong to a body which is, as now composed, the government our founding fathers warned us about. You should take care not to make us the cast of your nightmares.
Oh, and by the way—the book 1984 was meant to be a warning, not a guidebook for government.
Comments “To Whom it may Concern”:
I’ve heard a lot of people muttering that this government is going Socialist. I understand why they think that, but let’s be accurate: If you consider roughly half of the elected national “leaders” are millionaires and multi-millionaires—as opposed to about 1 percent of the rest of us—and they are exempt from so many of the rules we must obey, I think this would be better defined as a plutocracy: one wherein the plutocrats want everyone else controlled by a Socialist government. It makes sense for them. Hey, it’s better for them than making us slaves, because they can still tax the workers among us to feed and support the more docile, manageable peasants.
I’ve heard it said by “progressives” that the problem with capitalism is a small group of people could end up controlling almost everything. But the solution they offer is to give an even smaller group absolute control over everything—and all the power of the state to enforce it. Umm… What?
I don’t know where you come down on the Tea Party. Entrenched politicians call them anarchists and radicals. It seems to me their platform is to take over, stop stealing our money, adhere to the Constitution, restore our liberty and then leave everybody the heck alone as much as possible. Ooohhh, sounds pretty dangerous to me.
The government says all they need to make this country a paradise is more money and more power. I think P.J. O’Rourke said it best: “Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.” The difference I see is many teenage boys know better than to drink and drive.
And for those of you who, like me, feel the government ignores you, ridicules you and attacks you, remember this gem from Mahatma Ghandi: “First they ignore you, then they ridicule you, then they attack you, then you win.” It’s the ignored, ridiculed and attacked who finally, regretfully but resolutely, fight.
That’s all we have space for here. If you’d like more, you’ll have to check with Sancho. He may have taken shorthand or recorded video of the whole speech. Border Collies can do that too, y’know. Connor OUT
By John Connor