Politics 101 - Taking The Train To The White House

[DancingBear]

There’s this train – goes by the name of The Great Unwashed Middle, I think – that delivers the presidency to someone every four years. It’s an unusual train, in that it has no seats on either the left side or the right side of the passenger cars – all the seats are in the middle. Right damn smack dab in the middle. Imagine that. Every four years the train fills up with passengers, sitting right damn smack dab in the middle, and they try and decide where the train should go.

Lots of folks on the left would like to steer the train one way, but this train doesn’t allow them on board. Lots of folks on the right would like the same chance, but the same rules apply. The only passengers are those whose politics lie, you guessed it, right damn smack dab in the middle. They climb on, and listen to the would-be conductors extolling their chosen destinations. Then they make their choice, pay the fare, and take a ride. Our would-be conductor has a great chance to drive the train, but for now he’ll need to be very careful in planning his route.

“Not fair”, cries the righteous left, wrapped up in self-serving platitudes. “We want the train to go where WE want, and the middle be damned! We want fortitude and squads of attack dogs and truth telling (our version) at every stop! We want the laundry list to be implemented and our spokespeople to blast it 24/7! We want it all – NOW.” They fail to realize that in today’s climate, the middle rules the road, and their demands will take the train plummeting hundreds of feet off Electability Bridge and into Fringe Abyss. They’ll get their wish, albeit posthumously, and they can watch from the heavens as we re-enter the 19th century under King George The First.

There are no cries from the right, although their stridency is every bit the match of their rivals. They’ve learned the game, and they’ve learned the middle. “We play the middle like Perlman plays the fiddle”, they say, and they’re right. The train, they know, gets to their destination by convincing the middle that the ride will be slow, and safe, and easy, and Christian, and patriotic. You can walk a long way into the ocean before you drown, and up until now the middle has believed that everyone is just going swimming.

But it’s different now, for driving the engine now is a cocaine-addled Casey Jones, and the right knows it. The middle knows it too, as the water around them gets chest deep and the undercurrents begin to pull. When they get on that train again, a scant four months from now, they want to see a new destination, but they want the ride to be safe. Our conductor and engineer can provide that safety, as they can and will get us to the destination that we all want so desperately. They’ll do it slowly, though, as those passengers right damn smack dab in the middle need a reassuring ride. They’ll like the final destination, as will we, and those of us who seen the train before will watch the miles click by, slowly but surely.

The women whose bodies will once and for all stay their own will watch the ride, as will those whose pigmentation has caused their freedom to be put on hold. The elderly who plead for help will watch the ride, as will those in uniform who have been dealt the lies wrapped in liberty. Those of us who have seen the train before will mark its passage, and when need be will turn to those of lesser patience and remind them of the simple fact that sometimes gets overlooked in the passion of the game: before we can get that train to its rightful destination, we need our guy driving it.

[DancingBear]

1. Geez - maybe I should have titled it "Kerry Sucks!"

[salonghorn70]

2. I Liked It

Great Post!!!! I've tried to teach Politics 101 around here also.

Here's My Toast to you.:toast: