The Rube At The Carnival of Politics

It’s not enough that 24 hour news stations have little armies of a single point of view, there are talking heads that ‘write’ full of sound and fury, signifying nothing and are paid to do so. These so called political pundits make it their life’s work to polarize as many US citizens as possible. Are they really zealots for a cause? Does Ann Coulter, Russ Limbaugh, Keith Obermann, Bill O’Reilly believe their scorching opinions disguised as facts? Or have they hit upon a way to aggrandize themselves, inflate their already bursting egos, and revel in what they believe is power? It seems as though every month a new title on either political side is released blasting one individual or party for the demise of  the democracy we as Americans believe  have ‘inalienable rights’ to. And, people pay money to buy them. In droves. I understand that the amount of books sold of one egomaniac only represents a small portion of the entire population–but apparently those portions control the rest of us–or so these pundits like us to believe. And I do believe. I do believe that there is a segment of every country on earth, whose common sense and ability to stand on their own principals and ideals and not be swayed by the loudest most outrageous of talkers, exists.

That’s what these books and television shows remind me of. Talkers, or barkers at a carnival sideshow, espousing miracle cures for YOU. YOU the poor sucker who buys into the ‘main stream media’ ‘the liberal bias’, ‘the right-wing agenda,’  the ‘fake news.’  You, the country bumpkin, repeatedly tossing rings that can’t possibly land on a milk bottle, the physics of the game are rigged. But they aren’t rigged by US. Not the carnival owners, the men, usually white, who pull strings behind the sideshow banners. No no no! It’s THEM out there–the other puppeteers, they are responsible for your terrible plight as a human. Ann Coulter has made the filthiest remarks about a philosophy she disagrees with. Or does she? Does she really give a bleached blond strand of hair? Or is she the coochie girl, who lures clueless men into the tent–to see what’s on the Inside? Each carnival is known by their barker–and they try their hardest to find the best–after all, it’s that talker that compels those hapless individuals who normally have intelligence and reason, to get ‘under the tent.’ That expression can not be a coincidence. The talkers want as many suckers as possible under their political tent. For idealism? Helping humanity? Once under the tent, the sucker is awarded flashy entertainment–fake freaks display their gills or lobster hands, coochie dancers promise they will really ‘shake and show’,  magicians make things disappear, sultans predict a rosy future. At the end of the tour–you can either leave, having spent your wad and been satisfied or disappointed–or you can pay more–for the big blowoff.  The big blowoff offers something really special, really amazing, really, well, just really. And depending on which sideshow–you can witness a man staple himself, or a man drive nails up his nose. Each deliciously sadistic and masochistic enough to allow the sucker to feel they really really got their money’s worth.

The tent is full of misrepresentations, erroneous information, downright lies. Or, if looked at slantwise, a different interpretation. The person sees what they want to see. A gilled human? Why not–the barker told me there would be a fish boy–and here he is. The dancers are promising sex, pulsating shaking, sex–and reveal–underwear on a clothesline a dancer maneuvers to make it shake. Was the rube taken in? Or did they tell you exactly what you’d get, you just interpreted it in a different way? Did promises disappear with the magician’s wand?  Did the Sultan actually see the future from a glass ball? There’s one thing that’s for sure, they promised the rube a big blowoff, and that man really pounded nails up his nose. So the rest must be true! Little does the sucker realize that the Hammerhead chuckles as the rube leaves–saying “Gotch your money, didn’t I?”

And that is what it is about. What is has always been about, what it will always be about. Money. And who has the most. Who has the most to sway the most gullible of us on election day. Who had enough to buy certain members of congress, or  state election officials. Who has the most money to throw into super-pac commercials decimating the opponent’s existence–not with facts, or statistics, but with outright stereophonic lies. Be them in commercials, or in a Bill O’Reilly manifesto, or an entire network’s daily buzz word agenda. And the barkers out there count on the rubes, suckers in remaining just that. They repeat their come on spiels so often, they become part of the consciousness.

Come in, see it, see it on the inside, only on the inside! We will cut the deficit while cutting taxes and remove FEMA, and shoot Big Bird–all for you! You will see all of this come true–on the inside, the inside! Come see the tiniest deficit in the world, only on the inside! See how we balance the budget on the high wire–and no net!! On the inside! See the magician saw the taxes in half–with no mirrors or anything up his sleeves!  Watch Madame Sleutha predict how removing FEMA and allowing individual states to take care of themselves, causes the hurricanes to cease and the tornados to unswirl! On the inside! And, the most bizarre, the most incredible, the most amazing of all!! See the geek! The geek will eat the head of a live chicken!! All on the inside!! On the inside!

Which ever lever, or box or chad you dangle, think for a few seconds, and wonder if you are one of those suckers who have paid their hard working cash just to get a few flashy thrills, promises, predictions. Don’t opt for the big blow-off. Step to the outside. Stop being a rube. Decide for yourself. And only yourself. The carnival will go on without you.