Stimulus Schmimulus

I’ve been following this “Stimulus Plan” coverage fairly closely, and I guffaw every time I hear it mentioned. President Goober is working with Congress to help out CorMerica . . . er, help out the stock market . . . er, help us all out of the mess the Admini-Congress has gotten us into.

Congress, which had all of 2007 to do something about the Alternative-Minimum tax problem, is now going to turn around and give me a check from the extra tax money they will take from me—check amount still undetermined while the players battle it out over which laughable sum will make me run to spend it—to save me, or someone, from a bad economy. Are these people for real, or did we experience an invasion of the mental snatchers one night in the greater D.C. metro area?

Congress, who hasn’t brought us a balanced budget for seven years or done anything to advance the concept of living within one’s means, have sat on their hands and allowed rampant negative government spending on a war only a few guys with GI Joe aspirations really wanted, then they enlisted the aid of, or looked the other way while the Saudis, the Chinese, and God knows who else, started buying up US assets at fire sale prices to prop up a sagging US dollar brought on by our borrowing jones.

Congress let mortgage brokers and lenders run rampant across the countryside raping the dreams and pillaging the limited resources of the ignorant masses, then watched initially mutely as corporate America, in conjunction with their media, pointed the finger at all the newly-minted poor homeless bastards and said, “This is you ignorant bastards’ fault because you wanted a house.”

Congress is the same band of privileged brothers and sisters who have allowed mega-corporations to feed at the tit of society and then helped them load the moving van for the islands so they can avoid any loyalties to the country from which they have gorged.

Now Congress and Alfred E. Newman are finally going to team to save me from failed economic policies and their dozy inaction, and I’m supposed to feel better now. They’re going to give me back $2.95 of my own money in the form of a rubber check drawn on the empty account of America’s Bank of Broke n’ Trust, and I’m supposed to be a good American and find a place to put it.

I will most likely have to use it at the grocery, the pharmacy, or the gas pump, which is a shame because it will prevent me from putting it where it really belongs.