Welcome to the Republican "Hypocrisy Chapel"

 Ain't No Disclaimer Around Here

 Let's have a little fun.

 

MeanMesa is usually reluctant to simply post long quoted material, but in this case, an exception to the rule is necessary.  This little jewel spells out all sorts of ideas many of us have been quietly holding inside since the days of Spiro Agnew and the Moral Majority -- so, it's high time for a good belly laugh.



The well engineered integration of ancient evangelical patriarchy with a convenient collection of modern faux "conservative" positions has left the predictable gathering of "strange bedfellows" deeply embedded in modern GOP mythology.  The resulting hybrid religion which seems to have been birthed almost spontaneously from these disparate interests is a cynical, grotesque, political monstrosity with only essentially carefully obscured ties to the ambitions of the oligarchs the thing was designed to serve.

But, "serve them" it does.

By pinning these poorly disguised, shadowy fabrications of Ayn Rand's Objectivism to the Old Rugged Cross, the right wing think tanks were able to effortlessly [i.e. at very little cost to their plutocratic sponsors] engage millions of "true believing" Americans, persuading them, in a biblical sense, that "up is down."

MeanMesa has created a term which offers a blanket definition of these types.  That word is: "religionist."  It designates a modern person embracing any named or unnamed religious tradition and insisting upon applying either accurate or inaccurate interpretations of ancient mythological precepts to decisions about contemporary problems.

All of this would amount to little more than an arcane "souvenir," perhaps a cock tail party "conversation starter," if the unruly phenomenon didn't dependably drag millions of voters to the ballot boxes.  That is the manipulative potential which interests the oligarchs so much.

The massive adjacent enterprise of highly profitable dirty shirt preachers, filching millions from these same "followers" can be the topic of another MeanMesa post.  Let's just say that whatever is left in these check books after the weekly patriotic "gift" to Freedom Works is easy prey for the "ministers'" love offerings.

[Here's the link to the original article: ALTERNET/Atheist Republic - original article] 

Enjoy!
 

Tea Party and the Right 

Right-Wing is Filled with Biblical Illiterates:

They'd Be Shocked by Jesus' Teachings

If They Ever Picked Up a Bible

Jesus wouldn't have supported food stamps?

AlterNet / By CJ Werleman

December 23, 2013  

Fox News’ Bill O’Reilly defended the Republican Party’s spending cuts for SNAP by effectively declaring Jesus would not support food stamps for the poor because most them are drug addicts. If his insensitive remark is inconsistent with Scripture, which it is, then the question becomes why do talking heads on the right get away with proclaiming what Jesus would or wouldn’t support? 

The answer is simple: Conservatives have not read the Bible. 

The Right has successfully rebranded the brown-skinned liberal Jew, who gave away free healthcare and was pro-redistributing wealth, into a white-skinned, trickle down, union-busting conservative, for the very fact that an overwhelming number of Americans are astonishingly illiterate when it comes to understanding the Bible. On hot-button social issues, from same-sex marriage to abortion, biblical passages are invoked without any real understanding of the context or true meaning. It’s surprising how little Christians know of what is still the most popular book to ever grace the American continent. 

More than 95 percent of U.S. households own at least one copy of the Bible. So how much do Americans know of the book that one-third of the country believes to be literally true? Apparently, very little, according to data from the Barna Research group. Surveys show that 60 percent can’t name more than five of the Ten Commandments; 12 percent of adults think Joan of Arc was Noah’s wife; and nearly 50 percent of high school seniors think Sodom and Gomorrah were a married couple. A Gallup poll shows 50 percent of Americans can’t name the first book of the Bible, while roughly 82 percent believe “God helps those who help themselves” is a biblical verse. 

So, if Americans get an F in the basic fundamentals of the Bible, what hope do they have in knowing what Jesus would say about labor unions, taxes on the rich, universal healthcare, and food stamps? It becomes easy to spread a lie when no one knows what the truth is.

The truth, whether Republicans like it or not, is not only that Jesus a meek and mild liberal Jew who spoke softly in parables and metaphors, but conservatives were the ones who had him killed. American conservatives, however, have morphed Jesus into a muscular masculine warrior, in much the same way the Nazis did, as a means of combating what they see as the modernization of society. 

Author Thom Hartmann writes, “A significant impetus behind the assault on women and modernity was the feeling that women had encroached upon traditional male spheres like the workplace and colleges. Furthermore, women’s leadership in the churches had harmed Christianity by creating an effeminate clergy and a weak sense of self. All of this was associated with liberalism, feminism, women, and modernity.” 

It’s almost absurd to speculate what Jesus’ positions would be on any single issue, given we know so little about who Jesus was. Knowing the New Testament is not simply a matter of reading the Bible cover to cover, or memorizing a handful of verses. Knowing the Bible requires a scholarly contextual understanding of authorship, history and interpretation. 

For instance, when Republicans were justifying their cuts to the food stamp program, they quoted 2 Thessalonians: “Anyone unwilling to work should not eat.” One poll showed that more than 90 percent of Christians believe this New Testament quote is attributed to Jesus. It’s not. This was taken from a letter written by Paul to his church in Thessalonica. Paul wrote to this specific congregation to remind them that if they didn't help build the church in Thessalonica, they wouldn’t be paid. The letter also happens to be a fraud. 

Surprise! Biblical scholars agree it’s a forgery written by someone pretending to be Paul.

What often comes as a surprise to your average Sunday wine-and-cracker Christian is the New Testament did not fall from the sky the day Jesus’ ghost is said to have ascended to Heaven. The New Testament is a collection of writings, 27 in total, of which 12 are credited to the authorship of Paul, five to the Gospels (whoever wrote Luke also wrote Acts), and the balance remain open for debate i.e. authorship unknown. Jesus himself wrote not a single word of the New Testament. Not a single poem, much less an op-ed article on why, upon reflection, killing your daughter for back chat is probably not sound parenting. 

The best argument against a historical Jesus is the fact that none of his disciples left us with a single record or document regarding Jesus or his teachings. So, who were the gospel writers? The short answer is we don’t know. What we do know is that not only had none of them met Jesus, but also they never met the people who had allegedly met Jesus. All we have is a bunch of campfire stories from people who were born generations after Jesus’ supposed crucifixion. In other words, numerous unidentified authors, each with his own theological and ideological motives for writing what they wrote. Thus we have not a single independently verifiable eyewitness account of Jesus—but this doesn’t stop Republicans from speaking on his behalf. 

What we do know about Jesus, at least according to the respective gospels, is that Jesus’ sentiments closely echoed the social and economic policies of the political left. The Beatitudes from the Sermon on the Mount read like the mission statement of the ACLU: “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is kingdom of heaven,” “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth,” and “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Jesus also said, “Judge not he who shall not be judged,” and “Sell what you have and give it to the poor.” 

So, when Republicans accuse Obama of being a brown-skinned socialist who wants to redistribute the wealth, they’re thinking of Jesus. Stephen Colbert joked, “Jesus was always flapping his gums about the poor but never once did he call for a tax cut for the wealthiest 2 percent of Romans.” 

Biblical illiteracy is what has allowed the Republican Party to get away with shaping Jesus into their image. That's why politicians on the right can get away with saying the Lord commands that our healthcare, prisons, schools, retirement, transport, and all the rest should be run by corporations for profit. 

Ironically, the Republican Jesus was actually a devout atheist—Ayn Rand—who called the Christian religion “monstrous.” Rand advocated selfishness over charity, and she divided the world into makers versus takers. She also stated that followers of her philosophy had to chose between Jesus and her teachings.

When the Christian Right believes it’s channelling Jesus when they say it’s immoral for government to tax billionaires to help pay for healthcare, education and the poor, they’re actually channelling Ayn Rand. When Bill O’Reilly claims the poor are immoral and lazy, that’s not Jesus, it’s Ayn Rand. 

The price this country has paid for biblical illiteracy is measured by how far we’ve moved toward Ayn Rand’s utopia. In the past three decades, we’ve slashed taxes on corporations and the wealthy, destroyed labor unions, deregulated financial markets, eroded public safety nets, and committed to one globalist corporate free-trade agreement after another. Rand would be smiling down from the heaven she didn’t believe in. 

With the far-right, Republican-appointed majority on the Supreme Court ruling in favor of the Koch brothers' Citizens United, the flow of billions of dollars from anonymous donors to the most reliable voting bloc of the Republican Party—the Christian Right—will continue to perpetuate the biblically incompatible, anti-government, pro-deregulation-of-business, anti-healthcare-for-all, Tea Party American version of Christianity.

LAST CHANCE!! JOIN NOW!! MeanMesa's Fabulous New 501C4: MAPPEMAJIC

How do these people -- even possibly --

 ever wind up in the Congress?

Here's a little fantasy from the MeanMesa "horror collection."

 It will explain everything.

This tale begins as a "family matter."

My wife demanded that I accompany my brother-in-law to some kind of political rally in near-by  Buffalo Junction.  She insisted that I go in order to keep her brother, Harold, a 50's something Tea Party zealot, from simply getting drunk, arrested and lost for a week -- his usual pattern on out of town visits.

Grudgingly I packed some underwear and my sports coat along with a spare pair of more or less presentable black loafers.  At least our expenses for the trip were being paid for by Harold's new campaign sponsor.  Harold dutifully appeared at our house at 7:30 AM sharp, fairly sober but dressed in an awful pair of checked trousers and a slightly soiled Polo shirt -- a shirt which did painfully little to disguise the man's giant belly.

Off we went.

Amazingly, Harold had arrived in a new band new Buick to make the 200 mile trip.  "Did someone loan you a car, Harold?"

"Nope.  This lil' beauty's all mine.  My campaign bought it for me as a gift." he answered, driving away unsteadily.  "Ain't no secret thet I'll have to drive all over to talk to mah voters."

Now, Harold had run in every election for County Commissioner since the 1980's, losing every time, and, in fact, losing every time by a larger and larger margin.  My wife had told me that Harold was considering a run as a Tea Party Republican in our district's primary for the US House of Representatives, but I had given the news very little thought after that.

The precise reason that Harold kept losing elections was because he had no support, no policy ideas and a really bad reputation as a hollow blow-hard. His understanding of governing was limited to a few, usually mangled, talking points he had picked up from right wing radio. Our neighbors, in fact, had always considered him something of a nuisance.  I had never met a single voter who would admit to ever voting for him a single time, much less one who might have thought he had something to offer the local government.

The next election was still more than a year away, and my hope was that after this conference or whatever it was Harold might just change his mind and be reconciled with just watching FOX on television, drinking beer and, being perpetually unemployed, living on his wife's money.  And, after my "little errand" of baby sitting him for this meeting, I would return home to a grateful wife.

However, the conversation in the car rapidly grew very disturbing.

"You must have found some campaign donors, I guess."  I offered as casual conversation.

"Don't yew wurry nun about thet.  I found me a campaign donor, got mah' campaign all financed real good, 'n I plan to walk away with that House seat.

Mah' donor's payin' fer this here conference so's I'll be able to win thet 'lection when th' tahm cums."  Harold grumbled, easing the car into the fast lane.

Harold's false Southern accent had always puzzled me. To my knowledge he had never even left the state, much less ever travelled to the South.  He had begun speaking this way when George W. Bush had been appointed to the Presidency by the Supreme Court.

"Ah alreddy know thet 'afore I start talkin' public, Ah'm gonna' hef to read this heah little book mah donor give me so's Ah'll know fer sure whut I think 'bout stuff. If Ah kin do thet okay, mah donor's got a plan fer everything else -- he keeps sayin' thet redistrictin's comin' up on account o' thu census 'n all jest afore my 'lection."  Harold rambled.

"Gosh.  That sounds pretty good.  Who is this donor?"  I asked.

"Oh shore.  Naturlly yew wann'a know thet!  Wahl, thet raht theah's one of thu rules.  Ah don't evah tell no one who mah donor is.  Just figger thet he's a good whaht Chrishtun patriot.  Thet's all yeew need t' know."  Harold snapped.

The rest of the ride was peacefully silent.  Harold, usually a tragically insecure ne'er do well, seemed to be suddenly sporting an unanticipated optimism.

Mile 41 Motel

After half a dozen confused circles around the center of Buffalo Junction, Harold finally located the cross street, recklessly accelerating his new Buick down the back street toward the motel meeting room hosting the conference.  In minutes we were making our way through a half empty parking lot to the meeting room, a fairly dilapidated place pretentiously announced on a the surviving ruins of a small, haggard, sun bleached sign as the "Highway 41 Motel -- Conference Forum."

I was grateful that Harold's campaign donor was at least providing us separate rooms at the dump.

After checking in, an embarrassingly excited Harold herded me toward the meeting along a long, seedy hall way.  An over dressed man sat at a reception desk near the door of the meeting room.  Directly behind him, I saw an over sized sign advertising the group hosting the meeting.

Harold drew a business card from his jacket pocket, comparing it to the sign behind the reception desk.  "This is it!!  This raht heah's MAPPEMAJIC!!  We'r at the raht place!"  he exploded. "These folks gonna' fix it so's I kin win thu 'lection!!"

He immediately began scrawling his name, address and a few other items on the official registration form.  When he had finished, he stared blankly at the broadly smiling man at the reception desk, pointed his thumb at me and said "This heah's mah aid.  Ah ain't registerin' him."

The greeter responded with a knowing smile, "Of course.  You two can go right on in."

Harold was ecstatic.

Once we were in the meeting room it became clear that Harold was to join a line of strangely similar "new candidates" for "additional registration procedures."  No one seemed to mind if I tagged along next to him, however, the raucous mood which prevailed around the rest of the gathering had changed into a far more somber, executive business meeting atmosphere.

Harold was suddenly surrounded by a group of men in expensive suits, apparently lawyers.  One of them was explaining the arrangements which had been made to provide "MAPPEMAJIC election services" to get Harold through the candidate nomination process.

"We're going to pay plenty to get your state legislators to gerrymander a Congressional District where you can win your primary, so, our...uh... investors want to be sure that you'll 'remember' them once you're elected."  one of the lawyers rambled.  "Just sign here, and head on to the next station."

Harold scrawled his name on the paper with absolutely no hesitation.  It was unusual for him to act so confidently.  The over sized advertising signs were everywhere, but I couldn't tell if Harold even noticed -- much less read any of them.

Harold, for the first time, looked puzzled.  "I shore plan to 'member mah donor all raht, but how a'mah gonna know whut thet donor wants me t' do?  Ah don't even know whut his name is yet."

Suddenly everything was becoming clear.  Harold didn't have any idea who was "footing the bill" to hire MAPPEMAJIC or paying for his campaign.

The lawyer responded fluidly.  "Don't worry.  We've already prepared a list of staff members you'll be needing once you get to Washington.  They'll be able to tell what your...uh...donor thinks about bills and issues."

The next "station" was a very business-like group of "image consultants."  While one bunch measured Harold for his new wardrobe of suits, shirts and ties, another group was "inventorying" the physical improvements that would be necessary for his new role in the national spot light.

Handing him the already prepared round trip tickets for his flight to the secret candidate "fix it farm" in California, one quietly explained what all would be done.  "You'll be getting a mouth full of brand new teeth from a full set of dental implants, and you're going to have nice head of hair once the doctors have finished with the replacement surgery.  We're setting a preliminary weight loss target at 40 pounds, but don't worry, these guys know how to do that so you'll never feel a thing."

As we moved to the next table, Harold, smiling broadly now, turned to me and said, "Ah'm gonna look so 'Congreshinyul' thet neetha' yew nor thet damned bitchin' wahf o' mine's even gonna' recogonahz me!"

Another group of "suits" had just finished with the man in line before us.  He was clearly some kind of rancher or farmer. Dressed in boots and a worn out cowboy hat, he kept spitting chewing tobacco every few seconds.  As Harold and I approached their table, the man seated there fumbled to find Harold's file in a box of folders.

Opening the papers in the manner of an accountant, he reviewed Harold's accounts.  He withdrew a cashier's check from amid the papers and laid it carefully on the table top.  "I see that your donor has prepaid your MAPPEMAJIC membership dues.  You just need to endorse this check, and we can add you to our official client list."

Harold clumsily took the ball point the man offered, and endorsed the back of the check.  As he turned it over, I peered over his shoulder just long enough to see the check's face.  It was a cashier's check made out to "MAPPEMAJIC election services" in Harold's name for $1,000,000.  On the "subject" line were only the cryptic words: "for services rendered."
 


"Of course there will be an additional payment due once you win the election," the accountant explained, "but your 'campaign donor' has already signed a promissary note for that expense.   After that there will just be the annual dues of $275,000, but you should be able to pay those easily from your political 'war chest.'  It only sounds like a lot of money because you haven't had time to get used to it yet."

After reviewing Harold's file, the accountant was satisfied that everything was complete.  He pointed to the audience area of folding chairs, "Go ahead and find a couple of good seats for the short presentation of MAPPEMAJIC client services.  Welcome aboard!"

 
The convention's speaker introduced himself and quickly referred the attention of the motley crowd of future Congressmen to the giant wall board directly behind him.

Harold whispered to me, "Am Ah 'spossed to unnerstan' thet?"

Before I could answer, the speaker had gone on to explain that these election districts had already been gerrymandered by MAPPEMAJIC so client candidates who otherwise had no chance of ever being elected would win elections and become Congressmen.  Harold immediately understood.

"Now that you are all MAPPEMAJIC members, we intend to do exactly the same thing for you!  Just think of yourselves on the night following election day.  You have already packed your socks and clean underwear for your victorious trip to Washington, D.C. where you will be Congressmen!"  he continued.  "MAPPEMAJIC is a complicated thing to call this, but that just keeps everyone who isn't here guessing!"

"We just think of ourselves as a sort of 'election district map design' organization.  There are plenty of voters out there ready to elect you guys. Once our newly designed district boundaries are in place, none of you will have the problem of all the voters in your new district who won't vote for you. Your Congressional success is just around the corner!"

The excitement among the strange group in the audience was palpable.  Harold, himself, was clearly lost in a haze of an imaginary fantasy where his teeth were straight, and he was wearing the fine new suits which were practically already waiting for him in Washington.


"When you're walking through the halls of the Capitol, everyone's going to think you're important!" the salesman delivering the talk droned on for almost an hour.  "There will be fancy dinners in fancy restaurants, nice cars driving you around and a great office right down the street from the White House!  And, of course, women."

The over weight hill billies in the audience gasped, salivating.  Noting this, the speaker jumped right back to the point.

"Those Washington, D.C. women are attracted to a powerful man, and when I say 'powerful man,' I'm talking about you!"  he added, sealing the deal.  "So get out there and get ready for your election campaigns!  Remember who your friends are!  And, remember to mention MAPPEMAJIC to folks with the same ideas that you have!" 

The road trip back from Buffalo Junction was a nightmarish torture. I finally tuned the Buick's radio into a AM FOX station and watched Harold's eyes glaze.


Additional MeanMesa reading on this topic:

A Mathematician Redistricts Congress

Mr. Smith Goes To Congress

We all know that the original version of this posting was the wonderfully populist old 1939 film "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington."  It is, the star, Jimmy Stewart, played the stalwart "true believer" in American democratic ideals.

In our modern day, we see something similar -- at least, something of a similar image.  Beyond the image of the new Tea Baggers in the House, however, there lies an unsettling and unseen further story.  With this posting, MeanMesa will, once again, drop off the cliff of tedious reality into the glittery world of our own fiction.  Join us as we watch Mr. Jack Smith, the recently elected Tea Bag Congressman from the fictional state of North Virginia on his first tour of the US House of Representatives.

Mr. Smith is accompanied on this tour by the senior Republican Congressman from North Virginia, Representative Billy "Bubba" Blowhard.  As we begin, it is Mr. Smith's first day at the Capitol.

Mr. Smith Goes To Washington

"Congratulations on your election, Jack.  It'll be great to have another real American from North Virginia in the 112th Congress.  I'm sure that Speaker Boehner is anxious to meet you and offer his own greetings, too.  Right now, though, it might be a good idea to show you around this place so you can get your bearings."

"Thanks Bubba!  I've already been shown my office by the House staff, but I've never had a chance to see the rest of the place."

"Well, I hope you've got your walking shoes on -- we've really enlarged the old House quite a bit.  There have been lots of additions just to accommodate the folks who moved in here with us."

"But Bubba, aren't there still the same number of Representatives?"

"Oh sure, but I was referring to the other folks we'll be needing to keep the wheels of government turning while we're in charge.  You know, before we took over to make government smaller and get rid of the special interests, we had to go all the way over to K Street to pick up our campaign contribution checks.  Since we're in charge now, we decided to just move all that closer to where the action is, if you get my meaning."

The pair were walking out of the House Chamber through a nondescript doorway located at the side of the Speaker's Chair.  The new Congressman was startled as they entered a long hallway which appeared to be three or four times longer than the House Chamber itself.  As he first glanced at the scene, it seemed that there were literally hundreds of doors opening to offices along the corridor.

"Wow, Bubba.  You guys really have expanded the House offices.  Are there Representatives in all these rooms?"

"Heh, heh.  No Jack, these are the new offices we've built for the K Street Mall additions.  We had to find room for a few thousands lobbyists who needed to come right up on the Hill so they could be a little more convenient for us.  There are so many offices in here that a new Congressman can get lost.  That's why I wanted to show you around.  You'll need to be able to find the right 'go-to' places once you start doing business."

"Bubba, it looks like there are more lobbyists here than there are voters in my District back home in North Virginia."

"Don't worry, Jack.  The leadership has prepared a little map which shows who's where.  Naturally, we didn't want the thing to go public, so we're only handing it out to the new Congressmen when we can do it quietly.  Here, take a look.  Right now, we are right here."

The senior Congressman pointed to a small spot at the right edge of the floor plan.

The "Secret Map" To the

 New "K-Street" House Mall 

(image source MeanMesa)

"Now, you can see the, uh, Market Trading Floor here in the center.  This list of offices goes by the numbers.  Just find the lobbyists you're looking for on the list, check the floor plan to see where they are and you'll be able to go right to the correct office."

1.  House Chamber  (Market Trading Floor)

2.  The Greed Grotto where members can go for quiet reflection.

3.  The "Media Images Classroom" where members can learn to speak bad English with a Southern drawl and wear bad ties.

4.  The "Big Pharma Patio" where members can slip in for a couple of drinks and get their "marching orders" from the Pharmaceutical Corporations.

5. and 6.  The "Back Room" where there are no cameras or microphones.  Members can have conferences here when they want to be sure that absolutely no one can see what they are doing.  Right next to the "Back Room" is the "Closed Door" where we can make deals with each other to serve the public interests and stuff.

7.  The "No Bid" Conference Room is for making contracts with military suppliers and the like.

8.  The "East Lobbyist Lounge" where our friends can gather to talk to each other.

9.  The "Emergency Supplemental Luncheonette" where we put together funding for unpopular stuff like wars and invasions.  They serve great sandwiches free to members.

10.  The "Big Bank Bar B Que Pit" where we authorize mergers for our special banking friends.  They serve fabulous ribs at the "Pit."

11.  Is the "ROI Market Ticker" office.  All the Lobbyists watch this pretty closely to make sure they're getting their bosses' money's worth.

12. through 18. These are the close-in offices for the our "Deregulation Services Administration."  The main "Deregulation Office" is just over there in room 44.  We make the "sweet deals" over in 44, then come along over here to work out the details.  You'll notice that we have a separate office for each kind of deregulation, oil, banking, Wall Street, Health Care and the like.  For example, Room 17 here is for pollution deregulation.

19. through 26. These are the "Deregulation Tax Specialties" offices where we go to work out the tax side of the changes we make while we are dis-assembling old "job killing" regulation bills, if you know what I mean.

27. through 31.  All the offices on the South Wing are dedicated to "Campaign Cash Management."  Now, although that might seem like something boring, it's at the heart of the entire mall.  Our Congressional "Money Bin" is in 28, and out "Citizens United Cash Memorial" is in 31, right on the corner with a great view of the Supreme Court.   We manage all the  conflict of interest payments to our boys on the Supreme Court in office 29.

32. Is the "West Side Lobbyist Dining Room."  Hey, everybody's got to eat!  

33.  The "Free Market Petroleum Lounge" is a kind of "freshening up" spot for our friends from the oil industry when they come to visit.  Sometimes, Big Oil leaves "campaign contributions" out on the reception table with the fresh fruit and candy.  Of course, members can help themselves.

34. through 38.  All these offices are where we manage our "International Accounts."  For example, "Off Shore Assets" are managed in 35,  and "International Special Friends" business is handled in 37.  Our favorite international "Military Contractors" are located in 38.  "Jet Liners, Tankers and Useless War Planes Sales" are in 36.

39. Is the "Member Spa and Whoopee Health Center" run by the health insurance corporations.  It's free, and it's private.  There are different girls in there every week.

40. Is a "Members-Only Alcohol and Drug Treatment."  Maybe you've wondered where in the hell we send all the members who fall down in front of the cameras on the Floor.  They just wander over there, and we report that they have entered treatment.  It's a good place to run into the Speaker.

41. through 43. These offices on the North Wing are all "Talking Points Management and Distribution Centers."  You will drop in here every morning before you have any public exposure.  The CATO guys and the Heritage Institute will have the day's list of talking points ready to go, and your job will be just slip them into any public statement you might make that day.  Just act like you have thought about whatever it is.  The media will be full of the same line no matter who is interviewed that day or the subjects.

44. Is the "House Hedge Fund and Holding Company Office."  That door will be closed to you unless you're invited in by the House leadership.

"So, Jack, there you have it.  Hang on to the little map, and make sure your staff knows where to go for what around here.  Now, have a great time, make some money and do the country's business!"