September 24, 2008
Methinks they doth protest well enough (and that's what has me worried)
So if we're to believe our eyes and ears, the Administration's bailout proposal sure has everyone on the Hill all frothing at the mouth.
I don't know about you folks, but it makes me real nervous-like when the Democratic congressional leadership rails this loudly about a Bush proposal this feculent. Because all too often, the squallin' and wall-eyed fits give way to The Big Cave-In [see, e.g., FISA, reauthorization of Iraq War funding, domestic spending levels, etc.].
At times, it seems as if this sort of rending of garments and gnashing of teeth is almost a kind of obligatory theatrical foreshadowing of a preordained tragic climax wherein vile douchebaggery and bitchassedness prevail over courage and righteousness. For you English majors out there not yet done with the metaphor, I suppose the denoument would be the part where said players engage in post hoc bitching about how the executive branch has usurped all the power and singlehandedly ruined the country and that's why only our side can provide the bold, gallant leadership the nation needs, bleh bleh bleh.
(And I type this while aiming Ye Olde Stinkeye in your direction, Nancy, Steny and Harry.)
Hopefully, things will be different this time. Maybe Democrats on the Hill will say, in one, big, loud unified voice, "I'm Rick James, bitch!" and imprint the Will of the People upon the forehead of Connecticut-native George W. Bush with the almighty knucklebling of Article One power. Maybe instead of handing a blank government check to the Gamma Beta House and hoping they'll notice the phrase "public service project" written on the memo line, Congress will pass some completely pinstriped-ass-whuppin' legislation and rock the nation with a new number one hit single, "Smells Like CEO Comeuppance."
Lord, I hope that happens. But I know better than to emotionally invest in that prospect. Kind of like how I learned, as a kid, to tense up any time I saw Charlie Brown on television hauling ass toward Lucy holding a football.
You know, a big heaping plate of pungent raw crow sure would taste good right about now.
Posted by hbalczak at September 24, 2008 01:26 PM
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