Mike Johnson, the current Republican interpretation of the Speaker of the House did something the elected politicians are supposed to do, figure out a path to legislate. He came to a tentative spending deal with the Senate Majority Leader, Charles Schumer that will, if passed fund the government for a few months. What a surprise since Johnson has a reputation for being as much an obstructionist as some of the other members of that caustic caucus. Almost as soon as the news broke several of the do-nothing, know-less-than-nothings of the far right pulled their heads out of their collective litter box to condemn the deal and vow to kill it.
No surprise here. Then I read an article in Esquire online that exactly captured the tenor of this far right carcass in the House of Representatives, the Flying Monkeys. Visions of the servants of the Wicked Witch of the West, this time with radioactive orange hair and a belly that extends all the way from the tee to the green of a par three on one of his courses setting out to capture the bill before tearing it to shreds came into mind. The flying monkeys! Acting out their fantasies of serving the most indicted loser of a POTUS I can remember perhaps hoping to sup at the trough.
Will the House Democrats support the deal? Will the Flying Monkeys exercise their version of the veto and exorcize the Speaker they elected just this past October and put their considerable, dysfunctional skills on display again?
Casey Stengel only had a lousy baseball team to deal with when he asked rhetorically, can't anybody here play this game? We have a House of Representatives and specifically a far right group who show they not only can't play but don't want to.
But enough politics. It's winter and NYC still hasn't had 1" of snow in almost two years. We had a little more about 30 miles north of the city. It was pretty coming down and I am glad we didn't get more than we did.
Still, a photo opportunity. After the snow stopped I went out in the back and took a few photos. Looking at these, a poem by Robert Frost came to mind, the one I had to memorize back in the fourth or fifth grade. I still like it. You can find the whole poem online I am sure.
I certainly didn't have miles to go before I'd sleep.
"Whose woods these are I think I know..."
No comments:
Post a Comment
Leave a comment if you wish. Comments will be moderated.