The Blotted Escutcheon and the Soiled Ermine
A Blotted Escutcheon, rising to a question of privilege, said:
“Mr. Speaker, I wish to hurl back an allegation and explain that the spots upon me are the natural markings of one who is a direct descendant of the sun and a spotted fawn. They come of no accident of character, but inhere in the divine order and constitution of things.”
When the Blotted Escutcheon had resumed his seat a Soiled Ermine rose and said:
“Mr. Speaker, I have heard with profound attention and entire approval the explanation of the honourable member, and wish to offer a few remarks on my own behalf. I, too, have been foully calumniated by our ancient enemy, the Infamous Falsehood, and I wish to point out that I am made of the fur of the Mustela maculata, which is dirty from birth.”
- 30 -
They don't have a "Punch a Representative Day" but if they did, I'd wager it would be popular. My dear Ambrose Bierce narrowly avoids the shooting fish in a barrel diminution of this piece with his brilliant timing and lyricism. I would seriously consider following the paths of the Dark Arts to resurrect Ambrose Bierce that we may have access to his genius in these modern times. And lest you think it's only the House occupied by numbskulls, we should have a separate day for "Scrotalize a Senator Day". I will leave it to your imagination as to what scrotalize might entail. If you can't figure out how to defend the borders of the United States with, say, 500 billion dollars (probably twice as many dollars as you need or more) then you should be run over with a lawn mower and left to be devoured by fire ants. But, no, they need a trillion, and heap up a body count on both sides of the seas with no end in sight nor any strategic objective reached, except keeping real estate values in Fairfax county astronomical and the money coming to the defense contractors and think tanks. Trump folded like a single-ply knock-off brand toilet paper sheet for all his bold talk of getting us out of these foreign entanglements, and the generals that are running things are looking increasingly like cast offs from the Three Stooges than any kind of warrior-monks one might contemplate. They think strategy is some hillbilly twang grass tribute band but still can't even use it in a sentence. Thought experiment: ISIL is more likely derived from Saudi-backed Wahhabism or nefarious Iranian plotting? Fuck, let's bomb Iran and give the Saudi's an all you can eat hundred billion dollar bomb package so they can kill the fuck out of those dangerous Houthis before they starve to death (who-thi you ask? Exactly.) and ply them with some Vegas dancers or goats or whatever (but no chickens, because that would just be wrong) they want on the down low. What, exactly, are we doing in Afghanistan? It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken, bitches. At what point does this not become a firing offense, but a firing squad offense? At what point do we just say fuck it and turn the government over to Jeff Bezos who can actually give us what we want at the lowest price possible and oh, by the way, it's actually easy and convenient through the entire process? Look at that! I can have a copy of Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations delivered to my door in 22 hours 21 minutes for less than five bucks.
Scrotalization is looking like a better idea all the time.
You might not have read that rant in this Fantastic Fable, but, it is, as they say, up in there.