Rearranging the Deck Chairs

I’d like to preface my remarks here with the following disclaimer: If you still believe in Santa Claus, stop reading - now.

Okay, then. To get to the issue at hand: I have come to believe that the way we elect our government officials is a lot like how we lie to our kids about Santa. At first, when they’re way young, we want them to believe. We tell them to believe in this jolly old man in a red suit that comes down the chimney (even if we don’t have a chimney), and brings us toys and stuff. Hell, we want to believe it ourselves. We want to reclaim a tattered remnant of our innocent youth. And, that‘s completely understandable.

As the kids get older, however, it becomes more difficult to sell the lie, to get them to swallow the whole jolly old man from the North Pole routine. They start asking questions. They hear things from other kids. They wonder how elves make smart phones and High School Musical DVD’s in a workshop with a hammer and nails. Eventually, you fess up: “Yes it was your Father and I all along. Don’t look at me like that - we spent enough on you to buy a new BMW 535i“.

We weren’t just lying to the kids all those years; we lied to ourselves. We wanted to believe we still lived in a world where a person’s word meant something, where character still counted, where the good guys win in the end. Where everything could be cured with gingerbread men and tree trimmings.

And every couple of years, we engage in that same fantasy, as we march out of the polling place, head held high, proudly displaying our “I Voted” sticker, believing we have made a difference. Confident we have made the “right choice” because our party, or our movement, or our platform is the best for us and our fellow Americans.

You can almost hear the sleigh bells, and smell those chestnuts roasting on that open fire.

I submit that regardless of the person or party you vote for, it is not the right choice. And, I submit that deep, down inside - you already knew that. You choose what you perceive to be the lesser of however many evils, although in your heart of hearts, you know none of them would spit on you if you were to burst out in flames in front of them.

For the majority of my adult life, regardless of the political affiliation of those in the white house (and state house, and house of delegates, and senate), several things have happened:

Millions of American jobs have been lost to other countries.
The personal wealth of the average working-class American has steadily dropped.
Housing, fuel, and heath care costs have sky-rocketed.
Our infrastructure has slowly crumbled.
Many of our streets have become increasingly unsafe to walk after dark.
Our national debt has increased.
Our quality of life has suffered, and
We can no longer seriously consider ourselves to be an economic superpower.

Yet we persist in not only tolerating, but engaging in these semi-annual dog-and-pony shows foolishly believing that the ship will be righted if only “our guy” wins. Our entire political process is about two shampoo and auto insurance commercials away from becoming a really bad reality TV show, because nothing any candidate says during the campaign has any relevance whatsoever once the polls close.

I submit that all we’re doing is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. We know the ship’s going down, but it is the ship we’re on, and, well - we want it to look nice. We see others rearranging deck chairs, and there’s a certain comfort in being part of a group - any group. Even if that group is about to plunge into icy, shark-infested waters. At least we won’t go alone.

And the band plays on.