Internal Monologues

"Mr Speaker, what you have said is an absolute lie, and a miscarriage of justice. I find each and every person who stands behind this contemptible. You, and all the supporters of the party in question, sicken me to the core. I hope that you will come to realize the complete moral lacking in the decisions made by this government. I know little of God, but I hope the people of this country have mercy upon your souls."

That's what I'd say. I'd say it if I thought it was worth anything, but it isn't. It never was, and it never will be.

What's worse is that is should be.

Almost by definition, the people that I work with, my colleagues and friends, are idiots. They entrench themselves in an ideology so moronic as to attempt at a meta-narrative. They think they can solve anything, when half of them can't solve the Times crossword. It's madness. All it takes is a pretty face, a lot of money, a few cameras, and a bag full of lies. If a man has each and every one of these, he has a career in politics.

Alright, so "lies" is a poor generalization. I mean empty promises, the swill to fill the trough for the pigs. The idiots that vote, they just plug for the man that says everything they want to hear. How many of them even stop to consider that he might not do everything he says? Not enough. For every voter that goes out and bases his decision on the political background and competence of the competitor, there are three who get sucked in by lies, and five who go with the crowd like common sheep. The first man, the one with a brain, is drowned in a current of ignorance he cannot out swim.

It's this reason that I sit back here with some of those sheep. Yes, I have the brain of the first man, and yes, I can say the things that the three men want to hear, but that isn't the point. I could win an election with a landslide, the local polls proved that, and I could do it again on a national scale, but that isn't the point. The fact of the matter here is that I don't want to.

The public and I are in a cyclic curse. They know exactly what they want, and the politicians at the top know just how to tell them that they'll get it. I, on the other hand, know just what it is that they need. They don't want that though, it would involve sacrifice, hard work, and some benefiting more than others. That wouldn't do now, would it? You wouldn't vote for the man who told you all about that, would you, little lambs?

So, I'll sit at the back here, and let the boys play soldiers on the big battlefield. They can spin their lies. They can tell the man on the street just what he wants to hear, but I guarantee this: I'll have the final say.

Yes, I work all night behind the scenes. Nearly every decision made by this government goes through me at some stage. I write it, I craft it, I shape it, and all with the what the people need in mind, not what they want. It gets changed, obviously, so there's no outrage. Sometimes the original meaning is lost completely. Honestly, I feel like a vet, dragging these animals away from the trough, and towards the cure for their self-inflicted problems. I won't complain. If I can do one thing to help them, I don't care if they hate me. If I can push through one idea that gives them what they cannot give themselves, I have done my job.

I won't get the thanks, obviously. That all goes to the dogs at the top. There's no gratitude around here without a television crew in your life. I can accept that, though. I can accept that everything I do to benefit the future of humanity may go entirely unrewarded.

But can they accept their needs over their desires?

Honestly, I feel like a vet, dragging these animals away from the trough, and towards the cure for their self-inflicted problems.