“I blame the Republicrats.”

Big John burst into the diner and slapped his ball cap down on the table with a force equal to Jimmy’s disdain for anything labeled “fat free.”

“We aren’t even capable of going to hell in a hand basket — the basket is falling apart.”

“At least you know who to blame,” mumbled Jimmy between mouthfuls of biscuits and gravy. With the gathering of wit and wisdom at the round table in the middle of the diner, knowing who to blame was paramount. Solutions were secondary and usually nonexistent.

“This is why I’m running for office.” Arnold Tobin had announced his campaign for public office a few months back. It would be a write in campaign aimed at the eighty percent of the folks eligible to vote that just don’t bother. No particular office has been selected, voters can just write in his name for whichever office they think he would be the least bad.

“What would you do about it?” demanded Big John. “Someone needs to fix the leaking hand basket.”

“Or else we’ll never get to hell,” mused Harry Winkle as he nodded, winked, and held aloft his empty coffee cup. Sarah filled it with the steaming, black elixir of morning.

“How about the budget?”

At 82, Tommy was the oldest of the group and the most likely to ask a serious question.

“When you get a Christmas bonus in December, you’ve spent it back in October. You rob Peter to pay Paul and Paul ain’t getting much. By the time you finally get the bonus, it’s all Petered out.

“That’s why I would be perfect for public office — any office. I understand how deficit spending works. Some folks get into office with no idea as to how to spend other people’s money.”

“What about taxes?” groused Sal. “I’m tired of paying taxes.

“Everyone is tired of paying taxes. It’s easy. The government does less stuff, which costs less money, leaving more money for salaries for the office holders.”

“In 1982, Ronald Reagan…”

Mort was about to interject something he discovered while flipping through the pages of the internet, but Jimmy jumped in and overrode the conversation.

“What about the roads? What are you going to do about them?”

“We have plenty of roads. I say we keep the ones we have.”

Arnold’s promise, from the very beginning of his campaign, was to do nothing. He won’t introduce any new laws or ordinances. He won’t repeal anything, either. He won’t vote for or against anything, He’ll just leave things alone.

“No one ever promises to do nothing and that’s why I’ll appeal to the 80 percent who don’t vote. They don’t care how things turn out. They just want to know who to blame. Besides, if I don’t take a stand on any of the issues, you don’t have a reason to not vote for me.”

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.