Liberal tendencies: a tongue-in-cheek look at the logic of liberal positions and the manipulations of liberal passions.
"You hardly cracked what salary amount?" I gasped.
"$150,000, and I've been working there going on six years," he said with a sigh.
"That's just a little above my teacher's salary," I replied, managing somehow to hold back the sudden desire I had to knock him senseless with the giant caramel nut roll that I had in my hand and empty his wallet. I added, "The only way someone can switch careers and still make that much money without first putting in some time and paying some dues is to open a bar in Wisconsin or become a politician."
"That's it!" he shouted. "I'll go into politics."
"But you don't know anything about economics or history or the Constitution," I said, pointing out a little flaw in his plan.
"So I'll become a liberal politician--no problem," he said.
"But politicians need a large slush fund to be able to afford a good P.R. firm to razzle-dazzle the people and buy votes. You don't save even enough money to be able to buy gum balls at will," I noted, strangely feeling somewhat better about the huge difference between our salaries. "In fact, you spend money so fast that you end up spending other people's money," I continued, suddenly hit with the serious realization that if Forrest became a politician, he'd be good at it--so to speak.
In an attempt to dodge that bullet, I reminded him, "Remember, if you become a politician, you'll have to rub elbows with other politicians every day, and some of those guys are so corrupt that they could pick the gold fillings out of your teeth while you're awake. Not to mention that you'd have to listen to the complaints of your constituents all of the time. You don't even like it when your son begs you to play catch. As a liberal politician, you'll have people pleading with you to support causes like providing sterility treatments to precocious toddlers and to help raise funds to reduce the social stigma of people who were born with webbed toes. Is that what you really want?"
"I guess not," he replied. "But you've given me an idea: forget politics; I'll become a fundraiser for a liberal cause. That way I won't have to wait for a politically advantageous moment to collect funds from concerned citizens. I'll be able to exploit their charitable notions all year round."
"I don't think the people who are now doing those jobs fundraising for liberal causes are going to just quit their jobs and offer them to you," I said, poking a bit of fun at him. "Do you?"
"No problem, I'll just start a new liberal cause," he said with an I-am-going-to-have-warm-apple-pie-for-dessert type smile.
"I think most of the obvious big causes are already taken," I kept on, wondering about that grin. "Every touchy-feely, feel-good, or repulsive issue that I can think of already has a liberal advocacy group," I said. "People are already battling to save fish, whales, seals, owls (and other birds), wolves, bears, cougars, mice, prairie dogs, illegal immigrants, the poor in general, plants, streams, tundra, soil, air, and ozone. They are also battling for unlimited homosexuality, pornography, and dead fetuses: and they have people fighting against free speech, free religion, equality, individualism, fast food, and the Boy Scouts. You'd be hard-pressed to come up with a single modest new liberal cause--let alone one where you'd rake in millions of dollars."
"No, I won't." he said, still smirking. "I've already thought of one. I'm going to get people to take a stand against BBL."
"Is that some sort of chemical?" I asked perplexed. "And why would liberals fund a fight against it?"
"BBL is the polluting waste by-product of a plant-based compound generated by the clothing industry, and combating its effects will draw supporters because it is a known carrier of germs and disease; it often emits a noxious stench; it's unsightly; and it is usually inundated with colored dyes that get into our public water treatment systems. Also, when it's burned, it releases known carcinogens into the air."
"That does sound bad," I said, thinking that I might have to actually investigate this compound myself. "Is everything you said true?"
"Yep," he replied, "every word."
"What do the letters BBL stand for?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"I'll tell you," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "but you have to promise to not tell another living soul, or you'll ruin my gig." Then he paused as if debating whether he should really tell me.
"BBL stands for Belly Button Lint," he said smiling slyly.
"That's not going to work," I objected. "Everyone will figure out that you're taking their money under false pretenses, and they won't pay."
"That hasn't been the case with other liberal causes. The Humane Society of the United States--not to be confused with your local Humane Society--pulls in about $60 million a year by talking about animal welfare and shelters, but they do not own or run a single shelter. And the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) takes in about $17 million a year to stop animal cruelty, yet over 10,000 dogs and cats have reportedly been euthanized at its headquarters in Virginia since 1989."
"But, but, but," I stuttered, "that's completely illogical."
"What's logic got to do with liberal causes? If PETA got its way and all hunting was stopped in the United States, soon wild animals would be well over the carrying capacity of the land, and they'd die horrible deaths from starvation or disease. There wouldn't be a happy ending."
"I'd be more ethical than the average liberal fundraiser. In fact, any money I make over $200 thousand a year, I'll use to buy land for forest preserves."
"And this is legal?"
"Yep. Want to be my partner?"
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|Publication:||The New American|
|Date:||Mar 6, 2006|
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