Jon de Vos: Check Out the Roach Hotel
October 28, 2010
The mid-term elections are on target to cost a record-busting $4 billion.
A large part of this is to elect members of a Congress that, according to a recent Gallup Poll, only 11 percent of the American people have any confidence in. But there I go overlooking the good news: It’s almost over.
There is an end in sight to the political robo-calls disturbing our dinners and short-circuiting our good humor. By a week from Tuesday, we’ll finally have the answer to that burning question, “How long can this possibly go on?”
It’s been incredible how every ad is just like the robo-ad before it. No one claims that they want our votes on their own merits, no one wants a life in politics anymore because of their intelligence or experience, no. They are telling us that we should vote for them because their opponent, while outwardly appearing human, is actually a disease-ridden insect.
If each claims the other is a slime-trailing roach, doesn’t that mean they all are? Makes you think the way to clean up Congress might be to rethink the ban on DDT.
Last week a janitor accidentally flipped the cleaning lights on Congress and a lot of them started scurrying around, asking directions to the nearest underside of a refrigerator.
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Of course that last sentence is a joke, actually in the event of some troubling event like a nuclear holocaust, Congress knows exactly what to do.
A story in The Washington Times revealed that Congress has maintained a secret bunker for more than 40 years in West Virginia in the bowels of the earth under the five-star, Greenbriar Golf and Tennis Resort. It was built during the Cold War with the idea being that if Russia ever dropped The Big One, Congress could flee to the security of a plush, well-stocked bomb shelter a hundred yards below the golf course and hole up there, sipping Dom Perignon and caviar, purchased and maintained at public expense.
Despite the suffering, Congress might even be a little happy that those pesky scandals and troublesome voters have finally melted away like bubbling tar. It would be a splendid example of Darwin gone wrong; survival of the effete.
When things die down, Congress can roll away the stone and greet the dawn of the new civilization with a couple of rounds of undisturbed golf. They will probably never notice that they are the sole survivors because of their narcissistic infatuation. They never paid attention to their constituents anyway.
But wait! What’s that running across the toe of their golf shoe? Scientists have told us that after Congress, the only animal life that can survive an atomic holocaust unprotected, would be the cockroach.
So what this means is that after nuclear obliteration the only survivors would be Congress and cockroaches. A fitting match, one can only hope the cockroaches will be on their guard. Assuming, and this is a pretty sure thing, cockroaches would refuse to mate with Congress, the Brave New World will be peopled entirely of descendants of the surviving Congressmen and Congresswomen.
I don’t know about you, but I could vote for someone named Newt Gingroach.
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