A Moving Experience

As we all know, this nation is currently ruled by a tyrannical evil overlord, a small and petty man who will whine, pout and threaten when he doesn't get his way. Well, here in my neck of the woods, we are getting a little taste of his wrath.

As we all know, the sequester (a plan to reduce not the actual spending of the federal government, but the RATE OF GROWTH of the spending of the federal government) kicked in last month, causing chaos and fear throughout the nation. Or, maybe not so much. The biggest effect that I've noticed is outrage and indignation as our tinpot dictator tries to make the cuts in the most visible and painful (to the public, not him: Heaven forbid he should suffer the slightest inconvenience, or actually have to vacation with his family, rather than everyone getting their own separate vacation on their own separate jet) ways possible, from cancelling White House to one that is now affecting me personally: Closing restrooms in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park.

Now, I know he just created a bunch of new National Monuments for the feds to operate and pay for, so you'd think he would make sure the ones they already have are able to operate fully with what they also have, but you would be wrong. What he's doing here is grabbing land for the federal government, and making sure the sequester cuts are as visible as possible and painful to as many people as he can possibly hurt. How dare you want to keep money from his beloved nanny state?

I now have a sequester story.

I was out walking, as is my habit, and on this particular day I chose to walk in my conveniently located National Park. I was planning to walk a little over three miles on a trail that went about a mile and a half out, then returned on the same trail. It was a bright, sunny, warm day, and very nice for a hike in the woods.

Unfortunately, about a mile into the walk, I felt the call of nature, and not such that I could just pull up a tree and take care of it. On my longer hikes, I carry a day pack with toilet paper in it for just such an emergency, but this was a short trip, and I had expected no difficulties.

Now I don't know about you, but when I gotta go, I GOTTA go, and there's no avoiding nature's call. I was hurting pretty badly, but I knew that there was a restroom at the end of the trail to which I was heading, and nothing but my car back the way I had come. I forged on ahead.

It was stop and try not to go for the whole last half mile of the trail, then down the steps to the parking lot, where I could see, across a soccer field, the bright, shining oasis that would afford me the relief I so desperately sought. A quarter mile across the field, praying and clenching all the way. I finally made it to the concrete in front of the building, reached for the door handle and...LOCKED!

I look up and there's a big sign on the door: "Due to the federal budget sequestration, this restroom will be closed..." and that's as far as I got. I was insane with insanity. I was outraged with outrage. I was confused with confusion, because I still had to go. BAD.

So, I did what any red-blooded conservative would do: I dropped 'em right there in front of the restroom door and left my calling card. I tore off half the sign to use for my paperwork, and on the remaining half, I used the pen I always carry with me to write a happy little note: "Due to Obamacare, I have a six-month wait to see a specialist about my spastic colon. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Now this isn't, strictly speaking, true, but neither is the concept that the cuts from the sequestration have to be made in the most visible inconvenient places: only a petty, pathetic little tyrant would seek to actively cause as much harm to  people as possible to make his political point.

In addition, this story is true in much the same way that "Dreams From My Father" is true, which is to say, it's a composite, and also, I made a bunch of it up. There is a kernel of truth to it, though, and if I've learned one thing from this president, it's that what matters isn't what's true, it's what your intentions are behind the lie. I can think of very few things more noble than exposing the national embarrassment in the White House for the pathetic little fraud he is, so if my lie serves the purpose, I'll tell it. There are facts there, but I've twisted them to fit my narrative.

And that's what I've learned from Barry O.