
The Democrat party has become an actual party; and as you would expect, it’s a wild one.
The folks from the faculty lounge have reverted into the college kids they still imagine themselves to be. Only now, instead of being impoverished like the rest of the kids, they’ve found their uncle’s credit card and they’re running up a tab like nothing anyone has ever seen. At the moment most of them are somewhere between their 19th drink and the moment when they’re discovered puking in the alley. And all any of them can manage to say coherently is “one more for the house!”
They aren’t even looking at the tab and if anyone else tries to, they get insulted and call them ‘radical tea baggers’ through slurred speech.
At first, Mr Hu, the Chinese guy who owns the place, was thrilled to have all the new business. And for a while you could see him happily estimating the totals in his head. But he’s been at this long enough to know that when it gets this late things can turn south quickly. For a while now he’s been hoping to see this ended without having his place trashed by the drunken mob. So for the last hour he’s been turning down the music, easing up the lights, and hoping that people get the idea to go home on their own before he has to force them to leave. He knows that with a group this delirious a scene like that can’t end well, and he’d like to avoid any bloodshed – especially his own.
His bartenders (Goldman and Morgan) aren’t cutting anyone off just yet, but they are eyeing the Party of Democrats with increasing suspicion. The crowd is getting unruly enough so that they won’t be buying them any more drinks; that much is for sure.
The union bosses who came in with the Democrats are still passing shots around and talking tough about ‘getting even with those rich bastards’. And all the blue collar machismo has rubbed off on Obama and his roommates, getting them all charged up. Someone keeps mentioning “seal team six” and “Muamar Ghaddaffi”, but with the general noise level it’s hard to tell exactly who. Knowing Obama, it’s probably one of the women in the group.
When ‘Revolution’ by the Beatles came on, Nancy Pelosi howled hysterically and started dancing on the table top. But no one really wanted to see something like that, so the non Democrats in the bar quickly shouted her down. Now the CBC guys are all hovering around her trying to get her to take her bra off, but she doesn’t seem too interested in them. Instead she’s draping herself sloppily over Jon Stewart and loudly asking him if he “really wants to let a crisis like this go to waste?”
Sheila Jackson Lee is walking around the room randomly pointing her finger in each persons face and screaming ‘Racist!”, while Kieth Olberman and Chuck Schumer keep pushing in front of each other to be able to see their mugs on the security camera. Maxine Waters is talking to her own reflection in the mirror and threatening to nationalize ‘every damned thing!’, and Harry Reid is drunkenly reciting cowboy poetry to absolutely no one at all.
A little while back they got Anthony Wiener to FINALLY pull his pants up. Now all he can manage is sitting in the corner alone nursing a strawberry daiquiri and mumbling “I’m NOT a pansy!” While Barney Frank keeps scowling at him through thoroughly bloodshot eyes and muttering ‘amateur’ while setting fire to a book of matches in the ashtray on the bar.
This isn’t a party that’s just getting rolling; it’s a party that is on its very last legs. It’s become a perverse and disgusting joke – not even an echo of its better moments. Its been going on in it’s present form since the 60’s and its participants are now tired, haggard and ready for sleep – even if they don’t know it yet.
When it finally ends, everyone else will be relieved more than anything else. And the longer it goes on now, the greater the chances that it will do real damage to someone, something, or both. No one will benefit from even another minute of this circus sideshow. And it’s turned as ugly and vomit soaked as any party in history. The general level of corruption, perversity, and overall degeneracy made the fall of Rome look like high tea at the Vatican in comparison.
In fact, even if it were to end at this very moment, there is a considerable amount of damage that’s already been done. The collective hangover for this outing will be unprecedented. The mess they’ll leave for others to clean up is horrifying, and paying the tab alone will take several generations, if it’s ever fully paid at all.
Ben Bernanke and a few Republican crashers seem to be the only one’s who have a grip on that concept. Every time someone makes eye contact with Bernanke he looks at his shoes and mutters something about how he can’t possibly pay this bill alone. Mr. Hu can hear him fine of course, and he nods every time Ben says it. But knowing who can’t pay is not what he’s interested in, and it clearly doesn’t make him feel any better.
So things are winding down now, and dawn is about to break on the Democrat party, one way or another. It’s gone on longer than it should have, and everyone will suffer for it tomorrow - Democrats or not. We’ll all certainly feel awful just considering the bill.
But the very worst will be for the Democrats themselves. Like most party-goers who imbibe too much, many of them can’t admit that the party has ended. Some will never be able to. And when they begin day two of this bender, to the rest of us they will look increasingly pathetic and ridiculous. It’ll be a tough way for them to end.
What’s worst of all though is that when you party as hard as they have, and for as long, sometimes you don’t survive it. And if the only choice is to carry on like Charlie Sheen or Lindsay Lohan, with all credibility shattered and all fame and power lost, many will choose to take that option. The only real question is whether they manage to take the Republic with them.
Then again, if it brings an end to Harry Reid’s drunken cowboy poetry, it might be a small price to pay.