Politicians suck. Deal with it.

"If you can't figure out who the patsy is--you're the patsy." Warren Buffett

Hello friends and readers. We’re once again witnessing—and trying to survive—a time in our lives that comes around every 4 years. The Olympics? Well yes there is that fraudulent shit show. More on that in another essay.

Yes I have a vote. No I’m not sure it counts. Yes I have opinions. No I don’t much care what you—or you—or you or you—think about it.

Each time around the big top in the clown car over the last 40+ years:

This is the one that counts.

This is the one that will save democracy.

This time this guy or this woman will make it better for us.

Nope, Nope, and Nope.

So pardon a touch of cynicism in today’s essay. I’ve voted in every election since 1980. Who I have voted for falls into the nunya category—as in nunya damn business. What I can tell you for sure is three things:

1. Politicians suck

2. They prey on our fear and our hopes—aided and abetted by a forever-changed and compliant media.

3. Not much really changes except that the government gets bigger—more broke—and we have less and less impact on what they do with our votes and our tax dollars.

But that’s not what I want to opine about today. I’d like to riff about how we all speak, write, and behave during these yabbut this one really matters cycles.

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I recently had a written exchange with a fellow Stacker who I respect. The dialogue was about partisanship. He stated in his ever-eloquent way that I was a cop-out because I said that all politicians suck. My response was—it might be a cop-out but it doesn’t make it any less true. He then went on to define at great length how a cop-out couldn’t actually be true by definition because blah blah blah. Great wordsmithing on his part. For my part—resignation. I give—I can’t compete with his grasp of the language or his ability to string together persuasive sentences to back his position. Debate was never my thing. If I feel I’ve been out-argued—I’ll just go chew on it for a while and do something else. I’ll remain convinced of my position. Why? Because it’s mine. And mine differs from his. Likely forever. It doesn’t mean I don’t like him. It doesn’t mean I won’t continue to read his excellent work. It just means we disagree.

There are a lot of people who think they have it figured out. They don’t. They’ll tell you that if you subscribe here or read this or just listen to them—you’ll be happier or you’ll be smarter or you’ll be richer and by God you’ll be right!

You won’t. They don’t know.

Tomorrow is a mystery. Someone’s success in the past might help you navigate some challenges in the short term. But choose wisely. Experts have taken a solid beating in recent years—some of it due to dishonesty—some of from incompetence—and most of it from hubris. It does not seem to slow them down.

I’ve been reading and listening to really smart people—mostly here on Substack. I do this regularly—nothing new here. You know who you are because I tell you. Thank you.

But I’ve been acutely aware that this political season is taking over large corners of Substack. It’s inevitable, right? It is social media after all. Writers and followers on the Stack are no different from any other platform in this regard—we just can’t help ourselves. Here’s the difference: writers know how to put words together in a compelling and convincing way.

So there we go—we talk about this, that, and the other. Some of it falls within their area of expertise whatever that may be. All of it is opinion. To be fair some of it is educated opinion. And it can be written really well. Just because someone has started several businesses—or written several books—or raised a bunch of great kids—or endured a forty-year marriage—or researched a topic to death—or been a working journalist for 30 years at the New York Times or the Green Acres Review—it does not mean they have it figured out. Their conclusions—and more importantly—how they might have arrived at those conclusions—is nothing more than their opinion. I still enjoy reading them because—wait for it—my opinion mostly aligns with their opinions. I’ll read them even if it we don’t align—cuz I might learn something.

Get me started on politics. Go ahead.

Your opinion is like mine—it’s just a smelly butthole—everyone has one. Mine works really well for me. The most beautiful, fit, wonderful, and joyful man or woman on earth has a smelly butthole. What they also have is a very shallow understanding of very complex things—infinite things—that are simply not within our grasp of understanding.

I’ve written about politics occasionally. My essays on the topic generally garner a lot of views. Whoopee. I don’t know any more about anything on the topic of politics than anyone else. Why? Because I’ve never lived in that ill stew that exists within the bubble of narcissism—and lust for power and attention—that one must live in to be a politician.

My beliefs waft up from a complex and spicy blend of how I was raised—where I live—the observations in my day-to-day—the information that I allow into my consciousness—my messy thinking (at best)—what I know to be true in my heart—and my emotional state at the time.

Does that mean I don’t get into it now and then? Oh I do. This recent exchange was a reminder that Oh I do. I always feel a little dirty afterwards—sorta like maintenance sex does when your heart really ain’t in it.

I like this Stacker’s writing very much. His ability to make a persuasive argument is matched by his ability to deflect his own partisan opinions. Sounds good. Reads well. Good argument that one! I’m not convinced. I’ll never be convinced—back to that spicy blend from which my own opinions arise. When I engage with him I lose—he’s better at the wordcraft than I am. But at the end of the day—I do it mainly because it’s fun—because the banter and the dialogue and the examination of my own views is an entertaining and worthwhile exercise. Back to that maintenance sex—it’s still fun. And then it’s over and I move on—or I write about it.

But here’s the key—for me.

Much of what I do know to be true comes from my heart. That’s the piece that is woefully lacking from what I read from most educated intellectuals. My life—and my views—and the eyes through which I see the world—must be connected to what I feel in my heart and my gut to be true.

If something stinks like shit—there is no doubt in my mind that there’s a pile of shit lying somewhere nearby. Just because we don’t have video of the shit itself doesn’t mean it’s not there. Don’t try to convince me that it doesn’t stink simply because I can’t present to you the YouTube video of said pile of shit. It’s there. I smell it. I feel it. My lived experience backs it up. My gut—heart—and instinct—all tell me it’s shitty. And I’ll trust that 100% of the time over your word salad about why it doesn’t stink.

The current political scene is the same as the political scene has been throughout the world for millennia. It stinks. Is Trump stinkier than those that have come before him? Is Biden? Is Kamala? How about Jerry, Mike, Chuck, Mitch, JD, Rashida, Marjorie, Matt, Nancy, Eric, or any of the other merry band of self-serving sycophantic toadies?

If one is stinkier than another to you—it’s by a matter of degrees—and it has little to do with what they’ve done or are actually doing on a daily basis. You’re not actually touched by that. It has everything to do with your own spicy blend of experiences that lead you to react to them in that way.

The things they say—the way they say them—the sound of their voice—the way they wear their hair (real or otherwise)—their girth—their stride—their clothes—their colostomy bag—their suspenders—the way they laugh (cackle)—the smugness of their smile. Your reaction to that could be visceral and likely comes from a very deep and perhaps traumatic place.

Trump may make a woman cringe from a childhood experience with a father or uncle or coach or priest. I know that my reaction to Kamala has very little to do with anything other than the fact that she reminds me too much of a woman I once dated—I didn’t date her for long.

Lying really rubs me the wrong way—that’s one of my strongest triggers for any and all politicians—bureaucrats—and public health officials.

I’ve been clean and sober for nearly 15 years and self-honesty is a foundational part of my recovery. Lying is a learned behavior. I was once a practiced liar in my drinking and using days. I understand lying. Poople do it because it works. They think that if they tell enough little (white?) lies that don’t stink in and of themselves—that they’ll be able to cover up the stinky pile of shit that is their big lie—their entire life.

Here’s a simple visual clue. If they’re standing in front of a microphone and their mouth is open and they’re trying to convince you that their way is better than the other way—they’re lying. At least in part. Or maybe in entirety. Guaranteed. They are not our heroes. They are not our saviors. They are our downfall. They are the reason this country will fail.

But here’s the scariest thing to consider—we’ve chosen them.

They are a full-length mirror that we’re standing in front of that reflects back to us our poor decisions. We’ve given them the golden ticket into the room. Once they’re in the room they never want out. Once they’re in that room together—that’s when they’re dangerous. Once they’re together in that room they wink and nod at each other. How the fuck did we get in here? This is the greatest gig ever! We can do whatever we want!

Term limits would be great. Honest people in politics would be marvy. Smarter and more involved American voters would be a positive change. Critical thinking would also be super. So would world peace. But the reality is—it just is what it is.

The philosopher Eckhart Tolle tells us in hundreds of different ways that: It is. Things are. How we think about it or them right at this moment is all we have. We cannot change the past—likely can’t change much of the future—with the singular exception of whether or not we begin to accept the reality of our current situation. Right now. This moment.

And in this moment I’m not hopeful that anything will change. I accept that most of what they’re selling us every day is a lie. Unkept promises and unrealistic expectations are the only real products of their dishonest labor.

I am hopeful that one individual and then one more individual might find the power to say Nope. Fuck you. All of you suck. I’m not playing. It might not actually change anything out there—but if it’s true to you and your heart feels strong and your gut is settled—it’ll change something in you.

The power I have is to accept that what they do in their shitty little minds and broken hearts means very little to my day to day existence either way. I accept that statement is easier for me to make at 66 years of age—they likely can’t make it completely FUBAR in my lifetime—doesn’t mean they won’t try. I can’t stop them.

Do with this as you will. Maybe it’s a cop-out. Maybe it’s freedom.