God in the dugout

Checks aren’t being written. Bills aren’t being paid. This could become a show worth watching, so don’t turn the volume all the way down.

Once in a while our assorted law makers and executives, who generally steady the country with their compromising camaraderie, just get stuck on something big and intractable. It’s usually personal, like war or money. This time it’s money, and our elected economists in all their variety, from profligates to spendthrifts, have issued a mandate to spend nothing at all until their voices are heard and the nation is set aright (well, ‘spend nothing at all’ is a public hah-hah, the NSA guy protesting the threat to national security gets his snigger).

This is one of those opportunities for well-meaning zealots to, well, really fuck up. I pay attention because it speaks to my God thesis: there might well be something else in charge. A bunch of little legislators have come out to sink their teeth into the guts of the machine itself. Often, claiming God really is on their side. The President chuckles and keeps his faith in his banker friends. But he’s up against men who think good husbandry is the Seventh Commandment. Can you imagine – a palpable fear of raising the debt limit?

If they snort and snarl and push their noses together long enough, there’s going to be a cold trickling in a number of powerful bellies. The rest of us can enjoy the spectacle of political philosophy in practice. This is small government. This is the Republican dream.

 

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