Pig ‘n a Page
The following transcription was from a meeting recorded by hidden camera and microphone in a liquor bottle and cigar gift bouquet from E=MC2:
Senator Wastrel T. Porkbarrel closed the blinds, then the drapes, and sat in his chair. His desk lamp the only illumination.
“As the newest page, you need to know a few things,” the Senator said.
“Yes, sir. I am happy to be part of the solution.”
“Ahem,” he scratched his chinny-chin-chin, “maybe we start there. Why do you think we’re here?”
“We?”
“Senators. Legislators.”
“To solve the peoples’ problems?”
“We are here to get reelected, not to solve problems.”
“But, then, why are you here?”
“Because the voters put me here.”
“I’m confused.”
“That’s quite understandable. You’re new here, but you’ve got to look at the big picture.”
The page shifted in his chair and rubbed the pleated plaid material, “Do you make all the pages wear Catholic schoolgirl uniforms?”
“Just the girls.”
“But I’m a boy.”
“It’s a kilt, son, the latest thing.”
“O…kay?”
He too felt the plaid material as his eyebrows danced, “You can call me Wastrel in this office. If it makes you feel more comfortable you can unbutton that shirt some.”
“Umm, we seem to be getting off track.”
Wastrel leaned back and picked up his drink, “Indeed. Ahem. You see, the voters put me here so they don’t have to worry. They know I have the same values they do, so I can be trusted to represent their interests.”
“Well, then what are those interests?”
“To make sure they don’t have to worry about problems.”
“But you don’t solve problems.”
“No, no, no. People cause problems, people solve problems, not the same ones. Heck, sometimes the government even hires people to solve them, but usually problems solve themselves or the locals do it. ”
“But then why do all those talk show people talk about the federal government solving problems?”
“Because they are the ones who want us to solve problems, or look into problems, so they have something to fill air space with. And we, of course love to hear all that talk.”
“Why?”
“To maintain our appearance of relevance and keep the election narrative running like a amphetamine-saturated hamster on a wheel. Fortunately, if there are not enough problems to keep the people worried, watching the news, and looking to us, the talking heads develop more problems for us. Well, for us and to benefit their commercial sponsors.”
“What happens if someone else wants to run for office and solve the problems?”
“Ooooo, we hate that,” he replied. “If, God forbid, someone accidentally solved one, people might come to expect more of that sort of thing. And there’s a chance the solution may actually allow lower taxes because of decreased spending, which would give me less money to play with at,” he wiggled his trotters like quote symbols, “‘solving problems’, and who knows what it might do to the election narrative.”
Wastrel shivered, “That’s where we all have to work together to look after the systems of governance.”
“Systems? Plural?”
“Right. The one everyone thinks is here, where we shake hands, run ads, kiss babies, and beg for votes every 2 to 6 years, 4 if you live on Pennsylvania. And the second one, where we look after all of our own and the powerful friends of others and blame whatever seems wrong on, get this, clueless insiders who are out of touch,” Senator Porkbarrel laughed until he had tears running down his cheeks. “Imagine it.”
“Who are the ‘our own’ that you speak of?”
He began to count off on the digits of his trotters. “One, there’s the campaign staff. Two, there are the party supporters. Three, the campaign contributors. Four, the important people who are busy and have to pay other people to come talk to me. Five, the people who want laws passed to keep what ought to be happening, happening, and what ought not, not.”
“Ought and ought not, really?”
Wasrel sat up straight and nodded sagely.
“But how do you know that the ones who pay to have you spoken to are the right people?”
“Because they’re the ones paying.”
Wagga-wagga-wagga-wagga, the page’s brain rattled as he shook his head and then asked, “Then you work for the ones paying?”
“Oh no. We work for the voters,” he said with a wink at the page. “We just work with the ones who have money to pay people to talk to us, and of course our contributors.”
“What about the rest of the voters?”
“They just want to be left alone.”
“To solve their own problems?”
“Precisely.”
C2 slipped into the Capitol stairwell after the meeting. E looked up, still listening to his headphones. M kept watching the tape spin until he got dizzy, and fell over.
“Nice skirt,” E said.
“It’s a kilt in Porkbarrel tartan.”
“It’s St. Anne plaid,” M replied as he sat up. “My sister has one just like it.”
“And I suppose you’re now going to tell me it’s not really in the Constitution that I should sit on his lap while he’s in his office during filibuster?”
E heard something interesting and tapped his headphones.
“What?” asked C2.
“Wastrel is wondering aloud about whether or not you like hikes on the Appalachian Trail,” said E.
M fell over dizzy, again.
- E=MC2
