The 1,000 Proctologist March
So the next Washington, D.C., shutdown/showdown has been delayed until Jan. 15, and another debt ceiling brink-of-disaster scenario is held off until Feb. 7. I do not care.
So what if the last 16-day shutdown cost taxpayers $24 billion.
So what if President Obama’s latest approval rating, according to a Gallup Poll, dipped to 44.5 percent.
So what if approval of Congress is 12 percent, according to the latest ABC News/Washington Post poll.
So what if CNN will be forced to use their countdown clock again and compose new theme music when we near that next deadline.
So what if journalists will have to think of another “kick the can down the road” cliche when the deal Congress makes early next year is another temporary fix.
So what if Congress will be in session for a whopping 17 days between Halloween and New Year’s Eve, making the likelihood for progress on this or any other issue the same as Rush Limbaugh and Rachel Maddow sharing a kiss to welcome in the new year.
So what to all of this? Because at my wife’s urging, I had a colonoscopy earlier today for the first time in eight years.
After a day of drinking Gatorade laced with Miralax, swallowing Dulcolax and spending quality time in the bathroom, my digestive tract is clear.
In fact, the photo of my colon could be used as a graduation picture, if I were graduating from something.
I still have traces of a Midazolam/Fentanyl I.V. cocktail coursing through my brain, and it is in this light fog that I have found total clarity.
What happens in the Beltway affects us all, and when everyone agrees that what’s happening now is driving us all into the ground, we need to think, not outside the box, but inside the colon.
Imagine a group of patriotic, dedicated proctologists from around the country marching into Washington, holding signs that read “Get Your Heads Out Of Our Area Of Expertise And Do Your Job.”
Imagine them offering each of the 535 members of Congress, and a few of their senior staff members, a free colonoscopy, as long as it’s on the same morning, and then they meet in session later that same day to make a deal on one major bill, whether it’s health care, the debt ceiling or the budget.
Imagine each member of Congress agreeing.
Imagine them sharing the same response to these wonderful I.V. drugs that I had, and with that type of foggy clarity deciding that maybe it’s best to find some sort of middle ground.
That by sharing one another’s “graduation” photos, they would realize they are all basically the same — pink and tubular.
Imagine Walter Reed Hospital opening a new Congressional Colon Wing to perform the procedures, which I think should be done annually, because they are, after all, in Congress.
Imagine the feeling of purpose these proctologists would have by serving their country, by healing some, looking into the souls of a few others, and knowing that in their own way, they have helped heal a broken legislative body.
And imagine CNN’s “Countdown to Colonville” clock, and Wolf Blitzer’s “Blue Colon/Red Colon” reporting on that “Magic Wall.”
And even if it doesn’t work, we’re forcing Congress to at least one night a year of total discomfort.
Feeling good, indeed.