What with the impending Mayan end of times prediction and the fiscal cliff we are about to fall off of, I barely knew which way to run, screaming in terror, and then I realized the Mayans couldn’t predict their own demise, so they should keep their nose out of mine.
That leaves the fiscal cliff. Daily I listen to the scoundrels we elected warn us of the approaching economic disaster they themselves created, the evening news replete with self-anointed economic eggheads, pointing fingers of dire consequence in all directions. They make me think of a blind man shooting a single-action revolver in a dark room.
Now and again they get lucky and wound something, but the sad fact is that they don’t know Jack Diddly.
We fell off the cliff long ago. The question is not when do we fall off, but when do we hit bottom? Maybe the Mayans know.
We will never recover unless we come to recognize that we have been dipping our supply of elected officials out of the same slimy, stagnant pond for many years. No wonder things stink. These people are not us. They are not like us, and they don’t care about us.
We must find a way of financing the campaigns of the butcher, the baker and the candlestick-maker. In short, us.
If we manage to drain the political swamp – the crocodiles will come out claiming we need professionals in Washington and the state house.
We must remember that these professional reptiles got us where we are. Time for them to go.
JOHN DOWNS, Newcastle