Biting the Hand That Feeds You

It’s a truism that fat dogs seldom bite. And of course how

does one bite a United States Senator in the ass, except in the voting booth.

So the Senate, in its boundless and

unquestioned wisdom, has thrown a steak dinner to all the dogs that vote. Those

who vote are likely to have a bank account where an automatic deposit

might be welcomed. If not, they surely have a mailing address, else one

cannot be a registered voter.

Ergo, without an account or an

address, you are fucked and simply expected to die under a bridge or, less

tastefully, in a cardboard carton on someone’s doorway.

Perfectly done, Mr. McConnell.

One does not elevate to the position of Majority Leader in the Senate without a

keen sense of who is invited to dine and who dies in poverty.