It appears this year will be another bad one for both heat and politics. Because our quadrennial political campaigns are just beginning to heat up. Listening to Obama, Trump, and the rest of the current crop of windbags running for office reminds me of that old story about the German, the Cuban, the politician, and the hillbilly who left Columbus, Ohio, on a slow train to West Virginia.
It was a hot day, so they were chuggin’ along with the passenger car windows open. Inhaling the smell of burning coal and cow patties, you know.
The German reached in his bag, pulled out a quart of schnapps, took a couple of pulls, and threw the rest of the bottle out the window. He saw the hillbilly staring so he says “Is nothing. We got lots schnapps in Berlin.”
The Cuban opens a box of stogies, lights one up, and throws the rest of the box out the window.
“How could you waste good seegars like that?” demands the hillbilly.
“De nada,” sez the Cuban. “Ees nothing. We gots mucho cigars en Habana.”
The hillbilly thinks this over for a moment. Then he throws the politician out the window.
Yep, we got more than plenty of politicians in DC. It’s a shame we can’t follow that hillbilly’s line of reasoning and throw most of our office hunting highbinders out a window!
You know why we can’t get rid of the politicians? It’s like that story about the three men who met the Angel. You know, one of those critters with wings and a halo, like the stained glass window in church. You don’t go to church? Take my word for it.
Anyhow, these three dudes were sitting on the benches in front of the Pike County courthouse, and they met an angel. The Angel looks at the three of them and says “I’m in such a good mood today I am going to grant each of you a cure for your ills. Just tell me what’s wrong with you and I will cure you.”
The first guy says “Mr. Angel, I got a hernia awful bad, it pains me all the time and it keeps me working from hard like I used to. If it is possible I would sure enough be grateful if you could cure me.”
The Angel cocks his head to one side and the guy can feel things moving around inside of him – and lo and behold he can’t feel his hernia any more. So he goes running down the road, happy as he can be.
“There you are,” sez the Angel. “One man cured and better than new, because he will never have another hernia.” Then the Angel turned to the second man. “You’re next, so tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“Well, Mister Angel, I got the rheumatiz so bad I can’t hardly move. I sure wish you could fix it where I could get around like I used ta’.”
“I feel wonderful today so it’s done,” says the Angel. And the fellow who had the rheumatiz straightens up, clicks his heels together, and goes down the road running and jumping and dancing like a frisky twelve year old who just got his first kiss.
Then the Angel turns to the third man and says, “You are the last one, so it is your turn to tell me what’s wrong with you.”
“Git away from me,” sez the third guy. “I’m on full disability with the gummit.”
We have too many people who are either bureaucrats with a lifetime license to loaf shining up the seats of their pants in thousand dollar swivel chairs: we have far too many people on full disability with the government: we have far too many people who want to be on full disability or are trying to be on full disability: to ever get rid of the incumbents.
Because every incumbent is afraid that turning the rascals out would force them to become gainfully employed.