GateHouse — Good morning, America! Or at least the small percentage of you who have successfully avoided the impulse to beat yourself silly every morning with a box of Lucky Charms (or whatever kind of cereal box is most damaging, it’s up to you, although I find the purple stars pretty hurtful).
I have found myself drawn to the Debt Ceiling Negotia — well, Negotiations is an incorrect word, because it indicates on some level the involvement of adult humans, so let’s go with Pathetic Caterwauling By People Who Sound Like Ralph Wiggum — for the same reason that I was once drawn to pro wrestling: Because I like listening to silly cartoonpeople in costumes read from goofy scripts in an attempt to emanate impressions of grave importance.
Also, I like my house, and with Sunday’s deal/compromise/fiesta of Democrat giveaways I’m glad to know that in theory I can keep it through September, or until my mortgage is sold to China or Cobra or the evil Thundercats or whoever. Wait, were there bad Thundercats? I can’t remember now. If there were bad Thundercats, someone please email about them, in the precious last few days before your Internet bill jumps to $450/mo and you pay it directly to a Koch Brother.
The problem is that the wrestling metaphor doesn’t fly. If nothing else, it was pretty clear that the storylines in pro wrestling were being written by grown men. Sure, they were grown men whose heads had been inflated to the dimensions of a weather balloon due to their regular popping of steroids like spandex-pantsed Pac-Men, but grown men anyway. You can’t put Hulk Hogan and Ted DiBiase in the clutches of a rotund, pink TV evangelist named Brother Love and expect the resolution to write itself, now can you? (Come to think of it, how did that all end? I can’t remember now. I bet someone fought a Thundercat.)
Debt ceiling negotiations, however = the opposite.
As near as I’ve been able to figure out through sheets of tears and studying how long it would take to vanish to an uncharted island in the Southern Ocean and live off of kiwi and stingray, these were our two Debt Choices:
- Strike some sort of deal and avoid this yappy nightmare happening again in three months, or nine months, or whenever Boehner gives up, hands the keys to the Disney Channel actors in the Tea Party and returns to Ohio for a good long cry. The downside is that the next time this comes up it would be with additional commentary from People Who Are Running For President, assuming any of them come up with an opinion on the negotiations by then. Upside: This will give Democrats another couple of months in which they can plan to give more things away.
- Default on the debt, and we can all look forward to paying 85% credit card APRs, a retirement age of 125 and Death Eaters installed at every level of government. That actually might not be so bad, as I was never a really big fan of brushing my teeth anyway, and anyway think of the gas money you could save by eschewing your car and just turning yourself into a plume of black smoke! Seriously, I could get to Disney in like four minutes. VOLDEMORT FOR MAJORITY LEADER.