I only wish this were purely fiction. I'm wide open to suggestions on how to fix this.
Three contractors are bidding to fix a broken fence at the White House. One is from Chicago, another is from Tennessee, and the third is from Minnesota. All three go with a White House official to examine the fence.
The Minnesota contractor takes out a tape measure and does some measuring, then works some figures with a pencil. “Well,” he says, “I figure the job will run about $900. $400 for materials, $400 for my crew, and $100 profit for me.”
The Tennessee contractor also does some measuring and figuring, then says, “I can do this job for $700. $300 for materials, $300 for my crew, and $100 profit for me.”
The Chicago contractor doesn’t measure or figure, but leans over to the White House official and whispers, “$2,700.”
The official, incredulous, says, “You didn’t even measure like the other guys! How did you come up with such a high figure?”
The Chicago contractor whispers back, “$1000 for me, $1000 for you, and we hire the guy from Tennessee to fix the fence.”
“Done!” replies the government official.
And that, my friends, is how the Government works.
As of 2016, public satisfaction with Congress has fallen into the single digits, the lowest ever. Read Fighting for Commong Ground, by Olympia Snowe, former US Senator. Here is an assessment of that satisfaction.
A driver was stuck in a traffic jam on the highway outside Washington, DC. Nothing was moving. Suddenly, a man knocks on the window. The driver rolls down the window and asks, "What's going on?"
"Terrorists have kidnapped the entire US Congress, and they're asking for a $100 million dollar ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them all in gasoline and set them on fire. We are going from car to car, collecting donations."
"How much is everyone giving, on an average?" the driver asks.
The man replies, "Roughly a gallon."
A social worker from Austin recently transferred to Pecos and was on the first tour of her new territory when she came upon the tiniest cabin she had ever seen in her life. Intrigued, she went up and knocked on the door.
"Anybody home?" she asked.
"Yep," came a kid's voice through the door.
"Is your father there?" asked the social worker.
"Pa? Nope, he left afore Ma came in," said the kid.
"Well, is your mother there?" persisted the social worker.
"Ma? Nope, she left just afore I got here," said the kid.
"But," protested the social worker, (thinking that surely she will need to intervene in this situation) "are you never together as a family?"
"Sure, but not here," said the kid through the door. "This is the outhouse!"