‘Tis the season: The Propheteer on giving

I would never pretend that either party is innocent of “abusive giving.” There comes a time to pay one’s debts in politics as a matter of survival. But George’s giving was truly remarkable. Autumn 2008 was the final season of giving for George. He had given lavishly to his friends for eight years, an endless no-bid Christmas, spreading the taxes of the citizenry among his cronies at Halliburton, Lockheed-Martin, Blackwater and Diebold – a breathtaking list in all, including the famed and secret cronies alike whose seminal wads of cash had enthroned him in 2000.

But whether they were paying for push polls fabricating John McCain’s illegitimate black lovechild, or stirring up street actions during the Florida recount, the debts were repaid many times over by George, always with a country smile, a tip of his Stetson, and with as much secrecy and distraction as possible. By account, George gave out no-bid monies at more than twice the rate of the Clinton Administration, a fact made all the more absurd by his incessant “free-market” cawing.

Still nothing had prepared us for George’s last season of giving, an unprecedented “final run on the treasury.” The Propheteer took root here, the moment when George proceeded with the largest government bailout in history – this from a man and party who use “socialism” as an ethnic slur. Ironically, among many Tea Partiers, the banking bailout is quoted as the final straw of outrage that set their mainsails for Washington. Now, they hold Obama in their fury for a program commenced by George.
Here, The Propheteer picks up the story of “giving” with George speaking more directly than a politician ever could. He notes that government is but a “credit card for the rich” and that true giving “is when you give of the taxpayers’ money.” What could be a clearer exposition of a man who has never held a true working job in his life and who has profited only by spending the money of others?

He notes the gloomy destiny of those who give all that they have for others: “The poor sons of bitches who will work into their 70’s.”  Instead, those who hoard and exploit, giving only for display, are smiled upon by the lovely dental work of the “God of the free market.”  Lastly, he subtly notes that the very men whose failings caused the banking collapse were called upon to write its remedy, as of criminals called upon to clean the city, thus giving to themselves “in trillions.”

Throughout The Propheteer, George’s lyrics are simply the nakedness of his deeds. I have always believed that one is what they do and no more. In the end, one’s intentions, meaning and personal narrative bear little weight on whom that person was.  A person who idly dreamed of sailing the oceans is but a person who never sailed.

In The Propheteer George merely puts his mouth where his money is.