I believe it was the Fox News Prophet Gregg Jarrett who, just moments ago, replied to the Wall Street Journal's Steve Moore concerning the payroll tax cut: "that goes to workers, not the people who create jobs!"
Workers, one of those loathsome dirty words like people and humans. Revolting really. And therein lies the parameters of the little game we call the two-party American political system. You're supposed to pick sides. If you're rooting for the Elephants, all decked out in red uniforms with a style of offense which makes some fans cringe, you are meant to be on the side of the Evil Empires (the owners, aka lobbyists) who lock out not their players, but do lock them in to just a few play calls. And if you're a Donkeys fan, dressing out in your team's bold blue, you are on the side of the Riff-Raff (the folks who sneak into the stadium without a ticket) who steal everything they've ever gotten including the toilet paper from the bathroom stalls and the relish from the hot dog condiments station. The Donkeys manage to keep their fans astounded with their style of defense: they don't have one.
So you pays your ticket (ballot), you takes your chances (elections). And, sadly, money cannot buy everything and, in this broken political system, we have to actually let those workers (if they're lucky enough to hold the title these days) into the stadium (booth) to cheer (vote).
I was raised by workers. Not just any workers but the worst kind, Unionized workers and in a Right to Work state at that. And much to the chagrin of the Elephant world, I married into a Unionized workers family and...gulp...we procreated. Now we have our own Unionized family, oh, the horror.
You've no doubt heard all the bad press about our type:
*Responsible for the 40-hour workweek
*Inventors of "the weekend"
*Anti-harrassment
*Friends with OSHA
*Arbiters of the evil EOE rule (talk about strangulating regulations!)
and then there's the worst, nasty rumor of all
*Pullers of needy children the world over from their nice, warm chimney flues
I mean really, is it any wonder we are the Muggles in a world of Corporate Wizards? We obviously asked for whatever rotten treatment we get. Like say, working 29 and 3/4 hours a week just so we don't get those benefit-thingies, whatever that is. Like a little game of chase the secretary around the desk until she succumbs. Oh, and the old "Sick? That's not sick. I've seen sick, buddy and you ain't it."
Really, who needs to stay home with a newborn? How are they supposed to learn anything if we coddle them from day one? That's ludicrous. If you do everything for them now, they're gonna expect everything in life from Uncle Sam. They'll feel ENTITLED to every last program they've put money into for every year they work, if they work at all. They're shiftless from the start, of course.
So on this LABOR DAY, I personally apologize for my involvement in all those nasty things that us Union-types may or may not have had anything to do with. And when you're transporting that food to the resort where your wife cleans their toilets, you can wave to the vacationing class because if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have those jobs. And when you linger by your truck waiting for it to be loaded and a kindly Elephant asks about your kids, make sure to smile sincerely and say that the last time you saw them they were doing just fine in that top-notch school of theirs with those well-paid and highly valued teachers, because after all, the Elephants make all those things possible.
And try not to have a wreck on the way back to the warehouse because the EMTs may be busy dealing with other ignorant slobs causing important people to be late for their stockholders' meetings. They just don't think about anyone but themselves, lying there in the ditch bleeding out all of America's treasure.
Hope you splurged for the Season Ticket package as they're promising some great fireworks shows this year. They may even bring out the red, white, and blue Tea-msters who played in the old Constitutional League for an old-timers game of "You're a Socialist!" Ah, what fun for the kiddies.
Now let's all sing-along with that golden oldie, "Pay the Piper, You Know the Tune!":
"Take me out to the Wall (Street) game, listen not to the crowds, poll just the wealthy aristocrats, I can't hear well my Medicare's flat, so it's root, root, root for the House Team, if they don't win we'll be shamed. Cause it's one (chance), two (choices), three STRIKES you're out in the old bold game."
Hey, Hey and Holy Cow, it's a great day, let's play two!
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