Our clowns in Washington bailed out everybody. So who is going to bail us out from them? Hell, whose going to shoot them? It’s time to cut the cake so that everyone thinks he’s got the biggest piece…

Just when I got to thinking that Congress couldn’t possibly do anything dumber, it goes and dumbfounds me…totally redeeming itself.

Please correct me if I am wrong – then again, don’t. I really don’t care anymore. But I thought it was Congress’ job to manage our money. Isn’t that why we elect them? That is, when they aren’t robbing, raping and pillaging, as well as betraying the public trust.

Perhaps we should elect more accountants and moms who balance the family budget instead of lawyers and consultants who must live longer than Noah’s 935 years, according to their billable hours.

We, the taxpayers, are excoriated to live within our incomes, even if we have to borrow to do so. But Congress, with its perks as well its pork-barreled earmarks for friends back home, has been living so far beyond its income that, it could be said, the two are living apart.

My 91-year-mother still decries the credit card as the abomination of our fiscal responsibilities. And what is Congress’ credit card?

Us.

These shabby elected officials have a vulgar sense of honor. In fact they observe the rules of honor as we observe the stars: at a distance.

I know I am not the only one. But I am truly sick and tired of living from crisis to crisis with the same people who created the calamities.

So why do I vote for them instead of sighting them in the crosshairs of my elephant gun?

Because mercy killing still isn’t legal in this country. Oh-where, oh-where is Dr. Kevorkian when you need a good bedside physician?

So I am stuck with the party system. And such a choice I have? I know…I know…voting for these clowns only encourages them.  But so does voting against them. They just turn around and become overpaid party consultants.

But, in truth, politicians are like nappies: they should be changed regularly and for the same reason.

Yet sometimes when I read a newspaper or listen to a ridiculous newscast demanding that I should care about what they are saying I don’t wanna no more. Yes, I am an erstwhile journalist. But I am as tired of feigning interest as I am in defending my ex-wife’s honor. Which is probably more than she ever did.

If our elected House or Senate doesn’t know it is imperative to pass a budget, and cut deficits and spending then why did they run for this overpaid, over-pampered, over-coifed cushy job in the first place?

Hmmm…

The trouble seems to be is that everyone is just too preoccupied, shouting and shooting off their mouths, running for President four years in advance instead of sharing their splendid ideas with the President we already got elected. They are simply too busy running for a higher office to be running their own elected office.

Let’s change that.

From now on, any elected official who declares for upward mobility has to vacate the job she or he has. That ought to separate the pee-yew from those who burn with want-to.

And, meanwhile, the rest of us have got to stop staring into what most TV shovels down our throats as sssnews. Just like voting for politicians, it only encourages them.

Why do we really care about Lindsay Lohan? Let the bleeping Hollywood canine die.

Then there was the time a few years back during a Philadelphia drought when the salt line was invading up the Delaware River – inching daily. The local-TV snews made it seem like an invasion of aliens. As if there was anything we could do about it. When it rained it went away. But everyday it led the news in stentorian tones.

The snews screams at us daily, telling us that the Casey Anthony infanticide trial is more important than the thousands of other infants that were killed that day in America and around the world.

Little is put in perspective. A “right-wing” nut case kills at least 76 (and still counting) mostly young people in Norway, and yet it’s fighting for space between all our sex ‘scandals’ and manufactured sex scandals like the former IMF President and the Guinean hotel maid.

Think of it. A lone loony tune wreaked the worst nightmare in the country known for the Nobel Peace Prize. We should be pummeled with coverage like Oklahoma City, or Ruby Ridge, or Kent State, of 911…And what does all this mean in a constantly cultural-altering world. This is a good mirror to review ourselves.

Of course, I sound like a politician who complains about the media. It’s like ship captains who complain about the sea.

And meanwhile we have a bunch of anthropomorphic wanna-be alpha humanoids in Washington that can’t get the budget in line. Another fine mess they’ve gotten us into.

Well, now they’ve got to do what they were elected to do, don’t they? The country just ain’t able to take care of itself and them and their friends and family no mo’.

Dimwits like Boehner and McCain actually have to do something. And Democrats like Pelosi and Reid have to see that it gets done.

These clowns make me ill. The TV cameras capture them working without ties on a weekend before the deadline. They should have been working 52 weekends with their sleeves rolled up and their ties in hangman nooses. That’s what they get overpaid for.

To hear those Tea Party reps screech for a constitutional amendment for a debt ceiling, you would think they had an answer to jump-starting our going-going-gone economy. At the same time, the Republicans want to protect the rich and the Democrats want to give everything to the poor.

Just suck it up, big guys. This one’s for G-d and country. Just do it…and do it right, for once. You did it for Wall Street when I didn’t agree. You did it for the banks, industry and even some foreign countries – though many disagreed.

Now, it’s for us. We the people deserve something for our money. Then again, if we all got what we deserved, there wouldn’t be enough survivors to dig our graves.

It’s time for our elected officials to do what most of us do during much of our lives: put up or shut up. And, of course, be ready to compromise.

And as my dear ol’ bourbon sippin’ pappy use to say between those omnipotent puffs on his omniscient corn cob pipe: A compromise is dividing the cake so that everyone thinks he’s got the biggest piece.

And dats yDrewIS on DIS penal colony.

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