March 5, 2006

Flogging the Mattress

I see some of our illustrious U.S. Senators have decided they’d rather not have any outside monitoring as far as all the nice trinkets and campaign donations they receive from their lobbyist friends. They’d much rather, thank you very much, do the monitoring and punishing all by themselves.

Hmmmmm.

You know what this reminds me of? I thought about this last night and I still think it this morning, so hey, it makes sense to me. It reminds me of a bunch of little boys about six years old with bags of rocks hidden in their toyboxes where their mamas won’t notice.

Here’s how I see it:

The little boy gets caught throwing a rock at the little girl he adores. He knows he shouldn’t do it but he does it anyway because he thinks nobody will see him do it. Someone calls his mama and tells her. She meets him at the door when he comes home and tells him he should go find a stick and take it into his room and spank himself with it.

The little boy goes outside, picks up a stick, goes back into the house and shows it to his mama.

“See, Mama, I’m going to punish myself, just like you said!”

“Good boy,” she says. “Go on in your room and take care of it, I’m too busy to think about it right now, but I’m sure you’ll do a good job of it. Just make sure you never play with any more rocks, you hear me?”

He smiles and heads for his bedroom. “Yes, Mama. I hear you.”

He goes into his room and closes the door. He takes the stick and starts flogging his mattress with it, all the time yelling and hollering to beat the band.

He makes so much noise anyone would think he was really punishing himself.

But the whole time he’s thinking about that bag of rocks in his toybox. The hidden ones nobody knows about. The nice ones.

He wants those rocks, oh, yes he does. Every single one of them. The big ones and the little ones. Every. Single. One. And he intends to have them all. But first, he flogs his mattress and yells–loud–for a few more minutes.

Finally he comes out and says, “I’m through punishing myself now, Mama. I won’t do it any more!”

“That’s a good boy,” she says, pleased to hear he’s responding so well to monitoring himself and administering his own punishment.

The little boy smiles to himself and heads back to his room…and his toybox.

Get what I’m saying here? Yes? No?

Hotclue’s take: There are just some things people shouldn’t be doing for themselves.

Love y’all,
Hotclue

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  1. Amen, Sister!

    Reply

  2. Yeah, some of them are feisty little fellas, aren’t they. I’m glad we’ve got a good one here in Chicago. If he ever fouls up, it’ll break my heart.

    If he doesn’t, I’m going to be the first one to sign up for his Presidential campaign when he has one, and my bet is, he will. My HOPE is, he will.

    Can’t you see it now, Barak and Hotclue, campaigning.

    Wonder if he’ll invite me for dinner in the White House? 😉 My God I’d have to comb my hair and put on something besides sweats and tennis shoes if he did. I don’t know about that…

    Love y’all,
    Beth

    Reply

  3. Yes, some of our reps, got rocks for heads. Which leds right back to your book, Beth. As long as they can keep getting away with it, they’ll keep storing those damn rocks, and then acting like they don’t have any.

    Reply

  4. You mean Second Generation, right? Yes, I’m aghast at the things we see people in those High Places getting by with in DC nowadays.

    And I just realized I spelled Barack Obama’s first name wrong. Dang!

    Hugs, Hotclue, who can’t even spell her own name right sometimes, like in my last comment, I spelled it B-E-T-H! Cheesh! What a comedown!

    Reply

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