Why Bother?

Yesterday, the House passed a continuing resolution that would de-fund Obamacare. Today, according to reports on Drudge and elsewhere, Republican leadership is preparing to fold by passing a resolution which will only de-fund the healthcare subsidy for Congressional staffers. Presumably with the support of House Democrats and a few Republicans currying favor with the administration. Really? Why bother with all this theater when you are going to fold anyway – yes, they’ll stop the unpopular subsidy and then quietly give all the staffers raises. The answer is that it is to give the illusion of democratic process – just the illusion, there is only one party and it does what it wants, responding only to the personal interests of the politicians and their clients who pay to play. Especially in this case Speaker Boehner, who is protecting his pay, perks and privileges, no doubt fearfully aware that the last speaker to enforce a serious “shutdown”, Newt Gingrich, was cast out into the wilderness in the aftermath.

In the meantime, we are all treated like Victorian children – seen but not heard.

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  • Tyro  On September 30, 2013 at 1:32 pm

    The evening arrived; the boys took their places. The master, in his cook’s uniform, stationed himself at the copper; his pauper assistants ranged themselves behind him; the gruel was served out; and a long grace was said over the short commons. The gruel disappeared; the boys whispered each other, and winked at Oliver; while his next neighbours nudged him. Child as he was, he was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master, basin and spoon in hand, said: somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:

    ‘Please, sir, I want some more.’

    The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The assistants were paralysed with wonder; the boys with fear.

    ‘What!’ said the master at length, in a faint voice.

    ‘Please, sir,’ replied Oliver, ‘I want some more.’

    The master aimed a blow at Oliver’s head with the ladle; pinioned him in his arm; and shrieked aloud for the beadle.

    The board were sitting in solemn conclave, when Mr. Bumble rushed into the room in great excitement, and addressing the gentleman in the high chair, said,

    ‘Mr. Limbkins, I beg your pardon, sir! Oliver Twist has asked for more!’

    There was a general start. Horror was depicted on every countenance.

    ‘For MORE!’ said Mr. Limbkins. ‘Compose yourself, Bumble, and answer me distinctly. Do I understand that he asked for more, after he had eaten the supper allotted by the dietary?’

    ‘He did, sir,’ replied Bumble.

    ‘That boy will be hung,’ said the gentleman in the white waistcoat. ‘I know that boy will be hung.’

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