Now, look, I really don’t want to get political here – as one was taught from a very tender age to never discuss religion, sex or politics – but it’s a bit bloody hard to avoid it these days.
I don’t care who you voted for – it is, after all, your prerogative and indeed mine to cast our votes to whomever we see fit. I might disagree with you, and you might disagree with me, but I will, to paraphrase Voltaire, I believe, defend to the death your right to vote as you please.
I don’t mind at all that you might not like our president – it’s your First Amendment right. But here’s the thing – if I, or the mailman, or my cat wants to disagree with you, it isn’t your right to deny me, the postie, or little moggie, our First Amendment rights.
Do you catch my drift here? This impeachment business seems it’s gone a tad wonky to me.
I thought, and forgive me for not being a local here, that to be accused of something, you really have the right to know what you’re accused of. But the target seems to keep moving, and we’ve gone from quid pro quo, to bribery, to extortion, to possible eating of a grandmother or two, and holding secretive black-magic parties.
While we’re at it, I also thought if you were accused of something, according to Miranda, you had the right to counsel. But, erm, apparently not in this case.
It is your right to face your accuser. No? Three strikes and I’m out, evidently. What a silly duffer Aussie I am, heh?
I want to know – no, I mean really truly want to know – who is in fact lying, who is manipulating this rather dreary and long-drawn-out tedious piece of theater, who is sitting in the hearings looking hardly-done-by, but is actually a puppeteer. Please tell me, because if no one can tell me I will have to draw my own conclusions, and that could get ugly.
Because I might actually blow a foofer-valve and take myself off to Washington and go all Professor McGonigle on everyone.
I would grab people by the ears, take them outside and make them stand in a corner for a while to think about what they’ve done. I would insist the cost of this charade be covered by the perpetrators of this tragi-comedy, and not by you and me.
I would put them all in detention and make them right 500 times “I was elected to represent my constituents, not to line my pockets and enjoy a different level of health care those dumb schmucks can’t afford.”
And if all that didn’t work, I could go just a tiny bit medieval. I know several yeomen carpenters who could whip me up 435 sets of stocks, drain the Reflecting Pool, and bung the whole lot of Congress in them and let the populace go a tiny bit justifiably berserk with baskets of rotten vegetables.
Get your act together guys – you know we, the people, aren’t stupid, and November 2020 is galloping up. Don’t underestimate us.
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at email@example.com.