I had anticipated any tell-all windfalls from this globally-recognized blog enterprise would accrue to the benefit of its author. Though apparently one of our readers–a grasping little shit–has decided to monetize the presentations here in book form for himself. I suppose this was inevitable; we don’t call it the kakistocracy for nothing.
So if you’d like an alleged inside legislator’s validation of how utterly in contempt you are held, then toddle off to his commercial website.
Though if you are true in allegiance–and more importantly, eager to purchase my own competing work whenever it is conceived–then keep reading here. As I once assured a woman expressing concern about the effect of my values on our relationship: Baby, I’ll hate you like you’ve never been hated before. So pay no heed to the weak antipathy from this pretender.
A Democrat, Congressman X demanded anonymity for his shockingly frank ‘confessions,’ for fear of retribution from his colleagues and constituents.
In his own words: “I don’t have the desire to soil my legacy, nor do I want to embarrass my family, or the congressional colleagues I’ve worked with through the years.”
Sorry Sparky, but hate speech is not free speech. As a democrat I’d think you’d know that. We’ll see how embarrassed you are unemployed.
Many will be appalled by Congressman X’s arrogant attitude, particularly his lack of remorse for deluding and mocking the “apathetic and gullible public” he was elected to serve. His colleagues fare no better. Citing specific examples, he paints an alarming picture of a dysfunctional institution dominated by a coterie of deceitful career politicians who revel in the power they possess and the special-interest money that’s lavished upon them. As X so eloquently states: “I’ve come to the conclusion the whole Washington scene represents a diminishment of civilization. Our country’s in a free-fall to mediocrity, and Congress is leading the way.”
That’s eloquent? No, this is eloquent: disenchantment is always the charlatan’s minimum wage.
Let’s sample some excerpts.
Voters are incredibly ignorant and know little about our form of government and how it works. Hell, I’m lucky if my constituents know my name and what I do. . .But that’s OK. It’s far easier than you think to manipulate a nation of naive, self-absorbed sheep who crave nothing but instant gratification.
It’s not easier than readers here think, certainly. Though knowing this is a (speculatively white) democrat speaking, one can understand the jaded outlook. Republicans have a somewhat easier task in managing their livestock. They are obliged simply to mouth “my sacred constitution” platitudes, falsely pledge to roll-back a raft of liberal faits accomplis while simultaneously surrendering on every front, and send young soldiers to bleed in a Levantine desert. There’s your three-legged election stool.
It’s not so simple for a democrat. For one thing they must herd their party’s menagerie of irrational and low IQ fringe elements into a momentary electoral focus. Hating whitey is the customary tool, though when the sons of allah, mexican revanchists, black panthers, and jewish supremacists are all muscling for rank with shrieking feminists, humping homosexuals, and flamboyant trannies, the scrum grows nearly unmanageable. Providing instant gratification is no small challenge when compelled to gratify so many disparate mouths.
My main job is to keep my job, to get reelected. That’s why fundraising takes precedence over everything. (Unfortunately) it’s so time-consuming I seldom read any bills I vote on. Like most of my colleagues, I seldom know how the legislation will be implemented, or what it’ll cost.
This is why and how those liberal hedgerows get placed all around our society. It usually just requires a very loud minority advocate to cow craven and disinterested colleagues into capitulation. GIVE ME THIS OR YOU ARE A HATER is typically a sufficiently reasoned appeal to secure prompt passage. With the ancillary benefit of getting congressmen out early to their evening session with a DC dominatrix.
And bear in mind a less-mentioned aspect of fundraising: the parachute. Everyone understands that the role of constituents is to be harvested for votes and then go sulk while their interests are ignored. The role of donors is to write checks large enough to make legislators embrace sweet reason. Ahh, now I see your point! But beyond those primary responsibilities is the implied (or I presume more often explicit) safe landing for office holders that run aground.
As an example, consider the defenestrated former house majority leader, Eric Cantor. Mr. Cantor had grown very powerful while in office by loyally serving his people. The only issue being his people largely reside in NYC, Hollywood, and Tel-Aviv, rather than Virginia. And that eventually became electorally problematic. So when he was unceremoniously evicted from his sinecure, one hoped it might send a message to equally adrift peers. And I’m certain it did. As you will note, the poor boy nearly landed in the bread line.
Moelis (MC) agreed to give him (Cantor) a $400,000 cash bonus and a $400,000 base salary, according to a regulatory filing. Cantor will also receive $1 million worth of Moelis shares that will be doled out over the next five years. Next year, he is entitled to “incentive compensation” of at least $1.2 million in cash and another $400,000 in stock.
You see the lesson, obviously. I doubt other venal congressmen are eager to suffer the same fate. Give your constituents the finger long enough, and you too could end up in a Wall Street board room subsisting on seven-figures. Harsh is infidelity’s judgement.
Let’s hear our anonymous liberal congressman’s closing thoughts.
We spend money we don’t have and blithely mortgage the future with a wink and a nod. Everything’s for the here and now. Screw the next generation. . .It’s all about immediate publicity, getting credit now, lookin’ good for the upcoming election.
Well that’s pretty much how we operate this blog. And in both instances a person eventually takes so much screw-the-future credit that you eventually find yourself lookin’ good in a favela. And that really doesn’t look very good at all. But that’s someone else’s optics problem. I’ll see you at the book signing, bitches.