I  All Aboard the low road express
   on the Bridge to Nowhere Fast

    The problems facing us in this country today are like a giant who-done-it.  Which is fine because everyone loves a good mystery.  At the republican convention it was clear to everyone that a heinous crime had been committed.  It couldn’t be denied the country had gotten off track and everything had gone terribly wrong in Washington.
     Amazingly this crime has been committed right under the noses of the people in charge.  Somehow (perhaps when they were sleeping, working one of their two day work weeks for the half the year they worked, golfing or off on one of their money groveling junkets) someone sneaked into their offices and totally against their wills and intentions forced our elected representatives to adopt a series of bad policies. 
These include but are not limited to, tax unfairness, deficit building, binge spending, mindless deregulating, job outsourcing, judiciary packing, earmark writing, infrastructure ignoring, environment gutting, science baiting, election stealing, government bloating, endless war starting, mismanagement institutionalizing, oil and energy price fixing, corrupt financial wage and market abetting, special interest pandering, ungoverned politicizing, crony hiring, pay-off giving, kick-back taking and some simple fraud, scandal and moral turpitude on the side.  
     The people in charge, the republicans, were puzzled as to who had done these terrible things when they were in charge.
     Their suspicion was, it was liberals.  Even if it’s hard to find liberals enough to blame these troubles on, most people knowing that liberals had been run out of town years before, who else could it have been?  This was the crux of the mystery.  As they were too moral and Christian to have done such corrupt things themselves, they averred, it must have surely been someone else.  
    Though infused with indignation and outrage the republicans, normally so insightful and sensitive to the wishes and needs of others, were stumped.  John McCain was called forth.  He was truly angry, like a latter day Inspector Jacques Clouseau he was determined to get to the bottom of these outrages.  He introduced his raw new sidekick to the crowd, the intrepid Northwest gal Friday, Gov. Palin (the Pink Panther?), who has a reputation of always getting her man - or at least her moose.  Like other great man and woman detective teams such as Leslie Nielsen and Priscilla Presley, Rock Hudson and his old lady, those two in the remake of Get Smart, Columbo and his imaginary wife or Starsky and Cagny, Lacey and Hutch, etc., these two mushers set off on the trail. 
     And it was really like an elaborate game of clue (or clueless) to them.  Was it Colonel Mustard in the conservatory with the rope or Nancy Pelosi in the cloak room with the ballpoint, who had surreptitiously messed the country up while Tom Delay was golfing in Scotland?  Clearly the hoary, grizzled old veteran John McCain, erstwhile member of the Keating Five, kissy-face compatriot of Enron loving humanitarian Phil Gramm, notorious scourge of cattle rustlers and un-maverick like behavior everywhere, was the brains of the outfit.  While Gov. Sherlock Palin, supporter/opponent of earmarks, the bridge to no? where? What bridge?, governor of the most pork and petroleum ridden state in the union, friend of several recently indicted Alaskan politicians, occasional burner of books and great slayer of caribou, was the muscle.
     The crowd cheered extravagantly (and perhaps, one is hesitant to suggest, somewhat hypocritically) as these two newly minted fighters of criminal political malfeasance were nominated by the republicans to go to Washington and find out who but the republicans made all the mistakes that the republicans made while the republicans were in charge.  Oddly, the republican crowd, who didn’t really seem all that upset about all this criminal malfeasance they were charged with, cheered wildly at the curious prospect of these two setting off on their quixotic quest to tilt at invisible windmills in DC.  Wink, wink, smirk, nudge, smile.
     In fact, it was clear that the republicans didn’t really believe that the republicans had made any mistakes at all, or at least any that they would admit to or change.  In fact, all the policies the speakers proclaimed as being vital to getting the country back on track were suspiciously similar to the policies that had just wrecked the train in the first place.  There was no acknowledgment of remorse, or consciousness of guilt.  They weren’t chastened or subdued.  It seems that nearly everyone there had actually made out like bandits (which might just be at the root of the problem) while the rest of the country was being reamed and systematically impoverished.  When George Bush appeared on screen from a remote location (the current republican president was too toxic for anyone pretending to be an honest reformer to be seen with in public) the crowd cheered just as lustily as if they would have voted for him all over again if they’d had the chance.
     This was strange behavior for a highly patriotic (we know they were patriotic because they so frequently said so) crowd upset at the crimes being committed against the American people by these unknown perpetrators who looked suspiciously like themselves. Canny observers might have paused to wonder if their commitment to reform was ever even remotely real or just a poor criminal disguise, like a fake moustache and dark glasses.  Others probably were asking themselves, “If this republican crowd which is dead set against all reform is not worried about all the reforms that McCain claims he would force down their throats, shouldn’t we be? 
In any case, whatever John McCain thought of his chances to solve these crimes against the American people, clearly the ones who had most likely committed them didn’t feel they had a great deal to worry about from his feigned sleuthing and over theatrical jeremiads.  The first verdict on McCain the reformer then came from his own peers and they were unanimous in their confidence that nothing would change!
    Meanwhile, listening to John McCain supporting causes he didn’t believe in, like Bush tax cuts which he had previously correctly described as unjust and irresponsible, and watching the crowd wildly cheer for “reform” which they either knew he wouldn’t or didn’t believe he should deliver, was an exercise in such extreme and selfish partisanship as to be anti-democratic and anti-American.  There was a double suspension of belief, a con in a con.  You had a speaker being cheered by a crowd that didn’t trust him being lied to by a speaker who didn’t share all their prejudices uniting in an alliance for the achievement of mutual power, at the expense of rationality, trust, truth and the common good.  It was a confidence game on the people, a theater of the absurd.  The good in either position will invariably be distilled down and squeezed out to be replaced by the bad in each.  This result of this fraud will invariably be the victimization of the rest of us.
     So when John McCain declares that someone has messed up our country and by God, he’s determined to go to Washington and find out who did it to us and make them change and the crowd wildly cheers, this strikes one as surreal, almost fanciful.  Not only has John McCain been in Washington for thirty years and been far more a part of the problem than the cure, and have the republicans been in control of both houses of congress for 12 of the last 14 years and the presidency for the last 8, but through propaganda and power politics they have also dominated the direction of the country for the last 28 years. 

II the 360 degree solution

    Finally, McCain and Palin, just to be absolutely sure they got what was at stake here, at one of the après convention parties, they were invited across the bridge to nowhere to that great yacht club at the top of the world.  Not many Americans even knew such a place exists, though some have heard rumors, and fewer still have ever been let into the club.
    In this world, as the rich sup on lobster and caviar and sip champagne on their various yachts (or at one of their homes) while in the sea below thousands flounder and drown in the shifting foamy tides below, all is always copasetic.  It’s true, some of the rich may be occasionally soaked (well, spattered with a drop or two), splashed from the desperately drowning masses, the watery carnage, of the weak and dying meekly below.  Every now and then a single drop of moisture might fly up and cascade over the side to alight on a loafer or darken the cuff of an elegant tailored slack leg.  And yes, ever and anon there might be some actual spotting, of a lady’s chiffon or slight temporary discoloration of a scuffed suede which only hinted at the unseemly caterwauling of the life and death struggles occurring in the water of normal life far below.  
    There the sharks, drawn  by the chum of the yachts’ excess and waste and past due date luxury items casually discarded overboard, often mistook humans for lunch.  Some times, resembling times like these, even some lone pathetic cries of wailing and gnashing of teeth, emanated from the struggling below, got loud and annoying enough even to drown out some of the slower, lower, more delicate passages of the orchestra as it played, encore after encore in an endless loop, “Feelings, the Star Spangled Banner, Stars and Stripes Forever” and various Sinatra tunes.
     “There is a deep misperception of reality here,” the guide to their tour intoned to the Inspectors McCain and Palin, “pure and simple, the crime in Washington has been done to us, not by us.  Something must be done to protect the yacht culture.  It is the true distinction and glory of the nation.”
     “And remember it’s always more important to say the right things than to do the right things.  It’s more important to get the job than to care about it, have the job rather than actually be able to do it,” added his assistant, a bit of a brown noser.
     “Yes, it’s been quite hurtful to us the things people say about the callousness of wealth.  It’s the party of the little guy that’s the true culprit here.  They are rude and unkempt. They are the elitists not us.  We rich are just regular guys.”
 “    Yes, see,” said the other, “in this most Christian nation it’s Christians who are under assault.  In this richest nation, it’s the poor wealthy who are over taxed.  And in this oldest democracy, open debate is passe’ as the party in charge, unless it’s the other party, isn’t liable for the problems created while the party in charge is actually in charge.  Now we have a crisis on Wall Street.  Clearly Main Street must pay to prop uf the edifice of our wealth maintained at their expense.  The bankers must be protected at all cost and those who merely bank charged with inflated fees and penalties.  Clearly someone has to pay for these excesses of deregulation we bribed congress with campaign money to enact.”
     “True, oh so true,” the guide agreed.  “Here John, look over the side to the water and what do you see.  Suffering, fighting, dying, hunger, poverty, misery, uneducation, no prospects.  See it?  Good.  That’s an illusion John.  Those are crocodile tears.  It’s not our fault that all those losers are losing their homes.  Caveat emptor.  This is a free market after all and in a free market the little guys and their cretinous little families get stepped on.  Boo hoo.  So shed those crocodile tears for us, mister.  If you have so little to begin with how hard can it be to have even that taken away from you while we, on the other hand…”
    Just then he was interrupted by the the auuggahhh of danger horn and sirens and whistles and bells.  Sounds of shouting and unearthly screams filled the air.  “Crocadile attack, oh,no, look at millions of these little people are getting eaten alive.  But that’s not the problem.  Look a small tidal wave of grief is accompanying the slaughter and some of the wave of blood and water is sloshing over the side onto our deck.   Help.  Bail out!  Bail out! Help Us please,” the entire aght club cried out in unison. “We need a bail out now.”
    “Well yeah, how apt.  See what I mean about all these unruly people who can’t take care of themselves and get themselves eaten by alligators? See?  All that noise down there, and suffering, that’s really what we should be doing up here but we are too brave.  We aren’t whiners.  What you see exaggerated down there is really a mirror opposite image of what we poor wealthy few are going through up here, biting our poor upper crust lips.  This is a bizarro world from their perspective.  Sympathy for them is wasted, sympathy for is appreciated financially, if you get my meaning.  
    “Therefore, as I was saying, free markets are always the salvation of the little guy and bail outs, the exclusive luxury of the rich.  See?”
    “See, John, everything is really the opposite of what it appears to be.  The poor paupers are out to get us, that’s why they pretend to be poor to get our money.  If reformers had their way they would demand we throw a few pennies over the side to ease them from their penury.  But we reject that.  When would such generosity stop?  As Jesus said, ‘generosity’s a croc.  Do unto others first before thou hast it done unto you and the greedy shall inherit the earth.’ Or words to that effect.  
    “So see, it’s better if we continue to drain dollars from the public swamp to continue our lifestyle so they can appreciate the virtues of hard work and what they could have if they had only had the foresight to be well born, or, - I might add, marry well, if you know what I mean, eh John – and there was actually any way they could get their grubby hands on it.  See?  And keep in mind that if you don't you probably won't get elected.”
     “Yes, I think I do see now.”
     “The crime is not what you thought it was or they say it is, is it?  It is not we rich who are predators of the poor but they who are very mean and off-putting to us.  That’s the real crime here.  They want us to quit polluting and spouting our effluence down on their heads and make their lives miserable and their food and drink less disease ridden and inedible?  Yeah, like we could afford to do that.  It’s like they never heard of a profit margin – which by the way, are very, very small.”
     “Yeah,” the aide added,” if they’d just work harder to get ahead they get could get up here too.  Sure they could.  Just because fewer and fewer of them can and do and poverty is increasing every day in this country is no proof against my statement.  See, over there, there’s one or two struggling to climb out of the muck in which they live now, but they are obviously elitists, using grappling hooks.  Guards,” he yelled, “over there, now cut those lines, shoot them if you have to.”
     After this unfortunate interruption which tended to dampen the point his aide had been making about the accessibility of the upper crust yacht society to the rest of the rabble in the country, the guide changed the subject in an even more soothing tone.  “They say we are economic bullies but then how could it be true that we are being bullied by these very same people we are victimizing when it is obvious they who are bullying us?  It can’t, can it?  What do you have to say to that, Mrs. Palin by comparison?”      
     “Who me?  Oh, I just do what I’m told.  I’ve studied the career of George W. after all.  I’m more about memorization than communication.  That’s why I’m writing everything you say down verbatim.  That’s so when I interview (which I never, ever do), I can appear spontaneous and answer extemporaneous, like I do when I’m speaking in tongues.  The problem today is not limits on their freedoms, it’s limits on our freedoms, those in charge, we un-elitists, among which, God willing, I am soon to be numbered.   
    “It’s not too little freedom for our society it is too much, except for guns and fetuses which have to be unlimited and taxes which can’t exist for us. We have good religionists around to tell us what to do and how it must be done and when to do it.  I listen to them and then do what I interpret their philosophy in order to be able to impose my beliefs on others.  Unfortunately, for them anyway, increased freedoms for us generally mean less and less freedom for everyone else.  Pity how that works.  Oh well, you can’t have everybody free at once can you now?
    “So anyway, my firmest belief first of all is whatever you tell me it is but beyond that we should not be lifting burdens on society but shifting our burdens onto society. Shifting responsibilities from us onto them.  See what I did there, John?  See what I mean?  Say you’re starting to look a little tepid, a little green, Johnny.  I hope you’re not feeling unwell are you, yet?  I don’t want your job too soon, not yet, anyway. Not till after the election, not before.  But don’t worry me and the first dude are able and more than willing, if not exactly ready to take over from you in a heart beat or lack of one thereof.”
     “Yes, I hear you, sir” McCain said.  “Yes I will go to Washington.  I have seen the error of my previous ways.  I will run a good dirty McCampaign like George Bush used to do against me and I will fix these crimes against the wealthy, we who have five million and up, and then turn this country around.  And I mean completely around, a full 360 degrees and then continue ahead, full speed ahead.  
     McCain was inspired, irate against the ingrates who dared question the mistakes the republicans made.  Having entirely changed his tune about reform, once he was well informed, he worked himself into a fine lather.  
     “As my dear friend Gramm so aptly put it, the middle class and poor are just whining.  Whereas we are not only winers but diners as well.  Take the press, they used to be for me and now they are against.  I know,  I know, they say we actually control all of talk radio with third rate propaganda and even have our own “news” channel, whatever “news” that is, and control the corporations that control most journalists’ paychecks.  And I know, I know, they say we scam and intimidate and criticize and plot to ruin journalists and plant stories, and engage in character assassinations of our opponents and their families, that we control think tanks and lobbyists and private shadowy sources and most of the money in the world and smear anyone we don’t like and lead the press around by their noses to the scent of the stories we demand they cover to draw the conclusions we wish them to draw.  I know, but really sometimes they criticize us and ask mean questions and trouble us with facts and pester us with analysis and try to complain about our scurrilous methods when we are caught cheating.  And it’s just not fair.  A free press is intolerable to any freedom loving American.”
     “My God, McCain, I had my doubts about you but you know I think you may have got it, the guide happily exclaimed.  Remember here is our credo.  We must always accuse those innocent of being guilty of what are actually guilty of ourselves first.  This inoculates us from blame and damns them by implication of participation in our crimes.”
     “Yes, I see how, I get it.  Me and Gov. Palin, we two mavericks ( no one was ever sure which of them was more like Bret and which was more like Bart, the original “original” Mavericks in the old TV drama about two riverboat gamblers and con men in the old west) will go to Washington and uncover these crimes against the very, very rich and keep control of power by stealth or hook or crook, or whatever it takes in order to enact policies that are unpopular or biased in favor of a blessed few Americans at the expense of the many, because, by god, that is who we are and what we do.  Screw our enemies, we are not the criminals.  As always the crimes we commit are really crimes committed by others against us (if looked at in our curious way), and once we bury them as they lie rotting in their graves, looking up at the soil as we shovel it in on their miserable eyes, perhaps they will understand the error of their ways in ever opposing us.
     “Here, Here,” the festive crowd of non-elitists that had gathered cheered wildly.  Mysteriously, as they were standing out of doors, balloons began to drop from somewhere.   
     “Governor Palin swooned.  “This really is God’s will, first Iraq, those pipelines in Alaska, the bridge to nowhere, big oil, big money and me.  This is a bridge to nowhere that may actually be leading to somewhere after all.”
     And that was how a great reform movement actually turned into its opposite before it even started, and into a Sting, ala Newman and Redford, in this fantasy land of made for TV campaigning.