Cartoon by Michelle Sayles
I'd known it was coming for a while but it was on a miserable winter day that it all came crashing in on each of us. It was the kind of day that made me long for a stiff drink and a soft bed as I sloshed my way home from the shit-hole job that I'm too embarrassed to tell anybody but close friends and family about. As I pried off my wretchedly holey shoes and attempted to restore blood-flow to my blue toes, I glanced up to see the news spread across the computer screen. In big black letters the headline proclaimed “CONGRESS PASSES FARM BILL, CUTS $8.5 BILLION FROM FOOD STAMPS.”
“Well fuck!” I
grumbled as my gastrointestinal tract changed positions in apparent
disgust with all things displayed on that glowing blue screen. Given
the numerous other shit decisions being handed down from Congress in
the name of bi-partisan bullshit, I could no longer claim that this
treachery was unexpected. After all, the Congress-as-Human-Centipede
model had achieved perfection years ago. Such was the level of
stitched-orifice cooperation that the very word “bi-partisan”
ought to be recognized as the whole lot singing “fuck you!” in
535 part harmony. Our only hope left was the unlikely possibility
that the too-well-spoken Obama would veto this heinous rag brought to
him from Capitol Hill.
Suppressing the
urge to heave Molotov cocktails at the nearest large edifice, I shook
my fist quietly at the drones that are likely monitoring Vermont's
northern border and pictured the disgusting bunch of law-writers and
lobbyists at their celebratory gala, filing in under that phallic
dome in all their ghoulish splendor. Unlike most stiff-necked
Washington get-togethers, each of the revolting inhabitants of power
and privilege are preparing to let it all hang out tonight. There,
using the heavily soiled carcass of Old Glory herself for a
tablecloth, all the Senators and Representatives are scurrying to and
fro in eager anticipation of their guests of honor. Presiding over
every debauched preparation is the bulge-veined Speaker of the
House John Boehner: snarling and grunt-thumping from his rabid
elephant seal countenance at any hapless human soul within reach.
Taking their seats at the great table the Congress are joined by
their closest friends and confidants: slithering in from global
headquarters in Bentonville, Arkansas are the Waltons, looking more
like a medusa's head of hagfish than any discernible individual; in
one year, nine of their vaunted WalMart stores in Massachusetts had
sucked up more than $33 million in food stamps, over four times the
amount spent at our nation's well-meaning farmer's markets in the
same space of time.
Now arriving, in a
click-clack-clacking of claws and spines on the marble floor, are the
guests of honor. It can be said that there are many ghouls, monsters,
and parasites in attendance this evening, but the sight of these two
creatures make even the most resistant of Representatives gasp and
scurry to recesses of the corridors, surely the best way to keep out
of decapitation range. Horrifically spiny crustaceans bound to be on
the “immune to nuclear radiation” list of unsavory creatures, the
Brothers Koch have arrived. Identifiable at distance by their
arachnid-typewriter footfalls, their latest boondoggle is intimately
tied to the Farm Bill.
Part of the evil
of this bill is how it preserves corporate exceptionalism: through
god-knows-how-many campaign contributions and lobbyists slinking
through the capitol, the Koch monster has been able to secure $881
million in mandatory spending for the biomass industry; through which
the Koch-owned Georgia-Pacific Company can exploit the Biomass
Crop Assistance Program. Six
states (spanning from Florida to Oregon) will now let America's worst
parasites scratch, scrape, and suck every last shred of biomass from
the ecosystem while poisoning any shriveling local economies (not to
mention their watersheds) along the way.
Fuck
Wikipedia. If you want to know the genuine meaning of “natural
resource extraction” look to the windfall profits of Brothers Koch
and their scorched-earth march to Washington.
While the Ghoulish
Gala rages on, we continue to toil in our lives down below the tables
of power. Out of sight from congressional corridors and out of mind
of those committing economic genocide upon the fabric of the American
Dream. We're growing hungry. More and more of us each day will throw
open the doors of creaky cabinets and empty refrigerators and find
nothing more than the scraps thrown to us, almost as an afterthought,
by politicians and the corporate peddlers they've come to so plainly
serve. In years past, most of us hungry enough to receive foodstamps
were the very young and the very old. Now, the unbearable ache of
hunger and poverty is striking so blindly in America that working age adults
make up the majority of the human beings yearning for a meal.
This is
new territory for us. We've never been here before as a nation.
Rising inequality and pathetically stagnant wages are poisoning the
economic well. Middle-earners, those who are neither rich nor poor,
are now on the declining side of income distribution. Things are
slowly getting worse for everybody with the overwhelming exception of
the vile creatures at the top, each disgusting one happily awaiting
their feast.
Passing this new
bill, they've pushed so many of us so decisively in the hole that
they're losing track of their own beltway buzzwords: the painfully
accurate term “sequesterity” dripping from their mouths. Even
now, the stain is slowly taking hold on that threadbare flag; pooling
somewhere in the deep blue of the Union before finally setting in and
darkening the stars.
For more work by Dylan Kelley visit his website, Like his Facebook page, and follow him on Twitter via @LivefromGround.