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Posts Tagged ‘Congress’

Today is the day that we celebrate the birth of our nation; the day the Declaration of Independence was adopted and signed.

Apparently, historians, and quite possibly Sarah Palin too, have questioned whether this is historically accurate.  Some think it may not have been signed until August 2nd.

Happy Second of August!

It doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?

But let’s face it, the signers of this Declaration were politicians.  Back then, they might have been called statesmen.  Technically, before we became the United States, we were colonies.  These were colonymen.  Drones.  I digress.

So we have this bunch of politicians sitting in a hot room in Philadelphia on the fourth of July.  Without air conditioning.  The First Continental Congrefs had already met to consider options and ultimately set a date for the Second Continental Congrefs.  A meeting to establish another meeting.  That sounds like Congrefs.

As was the custom, Congress appointed a committee to draft a preamble that would explain the purpose of the resolution. John Adams wrote the preamble. . .

The result is well-known:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Today, that same committee would have taken two years and several thousand pages to say basically the same thing–but way more politically correct and gender and sexual orientation neutral– as well as providing for welfare and health care initiatives.  This was probably the last time that Congrefs passed anything limited to ONE PAGE.  It was a large page, but it was basically one page.

Seriously, if the Congrefs of today was meeting to pass this resolution, we all know what that would mean.  We’d still be British citizens.  God Save the Queen!

But back to the sweltering hot room in Philadelphia . . .

“So, are we all ready to sign this?”

“Did anyone bring a pen?  A quill?  Anything?”

“It was in the pocket of my other coat.”

“Dang, I misplaced my glasses.”

“Has anyone seen Franklin’s bifocals?”

Crunch.  “Found them!”

“It’s okay.  I’ll invent another pair.”

“I don’t want to sign it first.” (They still fear the throne.)

“Nor me.”

“Not me.”

“Okay, we’ll draw numbers to see who has to sign it first.”

“Can’t we just do rock, paper, scissors?”

“Okay, let’s take a vote on drawing numbers versus rock, paper, scissors?”

“We could do one potato, two potato?”

“We will only consider one vote at a time!”

“Maybe we should organize a committee to consider the best way to designate the first signer?”

John Hancock finally decides to sign the resolution before anymore fighting breaks out, before anyone else passes out from heat stroke and before any more stupid resolutions can be passed.  Besides, he doesn’t want to celebrate this holiday on the fifth.  All the invitations for the party clearly state the fourth.  Worse yet, this could drag into August.  The heat would be more unbearable.

He grabs the quill and signs it with a flourish.

Josiah Bartlett, taking the quill next exclaims, “For crying out loud John, you didn’t leave the rest of us any room to sign!”

In retrospect, John Hancock saved us from others signing the document first . . .

Can you put your Button Gwinnett on this?  Or just put your Caesar Rodney right here at the X.  Thank you John Hancock.

Actually, we should thank them all.

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Today was Election Day here in Pennsylvania (also known as Erection Day in Japan).  I performed my civic duty such as it is.

No I don’t want this person.

No, I don’t want that person.

I dutifully picked my noes today.

After carefully studying the issues, watching untold commercials, praying, and flipping my lucky quarter, I selected my choices.

Granted, this was just a primary, and we’re not electing a new czar or anything important  like that, but it is always a frustrating exercise in futility to elect anyone to any office.

There’s no one on this list I want to vote for.  Actually, one of my good friends is running for school board so I voted FOR him.  This may be the first time since I cast a vote for Ronald Reagan that I actually picked someone because I wanted to pick them; not because I didn’t want the other guy to win.

I am basically choosing the least of several evils.  I am not picking who I want to be President as much as I am picking who I don’t want leading this country.  I wasn’t even choosing–or not choosing as the case may be–a President today, but you get the idea.  Today I was not choosing judges and county commissioners.  Being that it was a primary, all the candidates were Republican on my ticket, so I didn’t even have the option of choosing against the democrat.  I had to become more creative in how to discern one candidate from another.  

I suppose things could be worse–I could live in a country where there is only one choice on the ballot, or no ballot at all.  There was only one choice for Township Supervisor and I don’t like him.  I left it blank.  That’ll teach him a lesson!

The older I get, the more I am convinced of this truth:  the people who are most capable of running this country and who would do the best job are all smart enough not to want the job.

I recently received an email about a wet monkey theory and its application to politics.  Obviously, when I think of politics, the image of wet monkeys leaps to mind, but bear with me here.

Basically, you take five monkeys in a cage.  There is a banana suspended from the ceiling and a step ladder that would enable a monkey to climb up and get the fruit.  Every time a monkey climbs the ladder to get the banana, you hose down the other four monkeys with cold water.  Apparently, monkeys do not like this, especially those that did drugs and sang in the sixties.  After a few times, the monkeys learn what is going to happen, and if one of them tries to go up the ladder, the other four take it upon themselves to prevent said monkey from bringing about a good soaking on the rest.  This more or less makes sense, but it remains to be seen whether this would stand up to clinical trials by the FDA.

Now you change this closed system by taking out one of the “trained” monkeys, and replacing him/her (I’m not going to check out the private parts but feel free to do so yourself if you please) with a new monkey.  This monkey knows nothing about the cold water, sees the banana, and heads for the ladder wondering why the others haven’t already taken the food.  The four “trained” monkeys proceed to beat the living crap out of this monkey every time he/she tries to go up the ladder.  He/she eventually learns not to do that, even though he/she doesn’t know why.  Maybe the FDA has ruled bananas to be bad for our health and he/she didn’t get the memo.

Now, you proceed to remove “trained” monkeys one at a time as above.  The scenario repeats itself.  Eventually, you end up with five monkeys who are willing to beat the living crap out of one of their own kind if he/she tries to go up that ladder.  But NONE of these monkeys have any idea why.  None of them were ever doused with water–only victims of being newcomers themselves and learning the system.

Hence it is with Congress.  We voters think we are going to change things by sending a new monkey to Washington.  He/she gets the living crap beat out of them for trying to change things, and the monkeys go about business as usual.

Maybe they should just hose us voters down each time we try to vote, and we could end the pretense that we can make a difference.  Perhaps I am getting too cynical in my old(er) age.  Maybe it’s just senility.  There are three signs of senility:  forgetfulness . . . and I forget the other two.

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