So recently the drive-time radio talk show host was talking about Big
Foot. He asked, (rhetorically, I think because nobody ever calls
in,) what mythical creatures do you believe in?
I believe in a mythical creature, but I didn’t call in, not wanting
to spoil the tone of desperation that makes local talk radio the
medium of choice for sadistic commuters.
“C’mon, give me a call! Do you believe in werewolves, vampires,
Loch Ness monster, Sasquatch? Call me because I have seven more
minutes to fill before traffic and weather!”
I don’t know about Sasquatch or Big Foot, or even how to tell the
difference between them, but there is one creature I heard about once
at scout camp, on a particularly dark night when the camp fire was
going out.
The honest politician…
Gives you the willies just hearing those words.
The older scout told us of a time when honest politicians roamed in
large herds across the east coast, from Maine to Georgia, with two
particularly large herds by the Potomac River where Maryland borders
Virginia. In order to ward them off, our nation’s leaders built a
large dome in our capital. Honest politicians don’t like domes or
anything, be it ceiling or argument, without clearly defined pillars
of support.
A few years after the Civil War, U.S. Grant, John D. Rockefeller, and
P.T. Barnam attempted to eradicate the species entirely, but a few
got past General Sherman as he pushed the herd into the sea. The
survivors hid among the buffalo, but the railroads hired Pinkertons
to hunt them to extinction.
I don’t believe they were all killed, but they haven’t been seen
within a gerrymander of D.C. in a hundred and forty years.
If you want to find them, here are a few hints.
1) Look in dark corners. They are sometimes found near town halls
during local debates. You can usually tell the honest from the
standard politician by his or her bloody nose, black eye, and
shredded pocket copy of the Constitution.
2) Listen carefully. Honest politicians don’t have a distinctive
call like Big Foot, but often they can be heard humming the tune to
I’m Just a Bill on Capitol Hill, and other School House Rock
favorites.
3) Sniff the air. Honest politicians might smell like bologna (as
lobbyists don’t feast them on steak and lobster,) but the bologna
is always fresh as opposed to rotten, or digestively processed –
the typical stench of standard politicians.
Doubters of Big Foot point out that nobody ever finds the remains of
a dead Big Foot in the woods. Supporters counter that Big Feet eat
their own. In a similar fashion, honest politicians are eaten
(sometimes after death,) by standard politicians that seek
credibility.
“I’m a Joe Schmoe brand candidate! Vote for me if you want
another senator like Joe Schmoe!”
Such claims are as close as standard politicians come to campaign
honesty. If you are what you eat, and the candidate ate Joe Schmoe…
That, if nothing else, is what keeps me believing in the mythical
honest politician. I’ll understand if you don’t agree.
As with all things political, it’s a lot to swallow.
Great vid - not just for mythical creatures
