You know, ever since the elections last November, the primitives on Skins's island have constantly reminded us that we're irrelevant, that we don't count any more.
It's kind of a dangerous thing to do, telling someone he doesn't count--as the Incompetent One (1977-1981) learned--but I'm not about to stop the primitives from doing it.
I decided to take the word of the primitives, and to take a two-year vacation from being relevant; after all, being relevant is hard work, and one needs a break once in a while.
Sort of like the long-suffering husband driving an automobile, who endures much back-seat driving from the wife, until he finally pulls over to the side of the road and says, "Okay, now you drive."
Of course we're relevant in the moral sense; decent and civilized people always count for more than indecent and uncivilized people. It's sort of like being outnumbered in numbers, but overpowering in sheer strength.
But in the practical sense, with the Democrats owning the White House and both Houses of Congress, we don't have excresence. Yeah, sure, we can use the rules to delay something by 24 hours, but that's it. We can slow down the steam-roller (for 24 hours), but we can't stop it.
So when the primitives said we're irrelevant, I happily thought, "Good, I can take a two-year vacation."
But one's getting mixed messages from the primitives; on one hand, they say we're irrelevant, but on the other hand, they're always griping about how we're "obstructing" things. How a mere circa 40 Republican senators and 180 Republican congressmen can obstruct something escapes me, but perhaps that's the primitive mathematics, the primitive reality, where a smaller number is larger than a larger number.
So after the elections, I packed up the station wagon, planning on taking a vacation from being relevant, but then just as I turned the ignition, the telephone rang; it was the boss calling, telling me to curtail the vacation and get back to work being relevant.
One goes back to work being relevant, and then the primitives again tell us we're irrelevant, so one locks the office and goes to the still-packed station wagon, planning on finally taking that vacation from relevance.
But then the telephone rings again; the boss again, telling one the situation's changed, and best get back to work being relevant.
One drives back to the office, and is relevant for a while, but then the primitives again remind us that we're irrelevant, and so one figures, okay, now's the time to get away.....
Then the telephone rings again.....
Personally, I'm getting pretty tired of this; there's only 21 more months until we get back to work being relevant again, and I'd like to take a break.