I Hear the Fat Man Singing
Terry H. Schwadron
Jan. 6, 2020
Today’s serious, but inane pseudo-drama being played out in Congress — made more absurd by the election results in Georgia — looks to be a tedious slog through the mire of political loyalty to Donald Trump just to get to confirmation of Joe Biden as president-elect
The rebellion among Congressional Republicans to determine just who get a pat on the head as Dear Leader’s most favorite children may be futile, since there are enough Democratic votes with those Republicans who still believe in elections and democracy to assure that Joe Biden has been the officially elected president taking office in two weeks.
But the rebels, undismayed even by the tape of Trump’s shakedown attempt to “find” votes in Georgia, still hope for magic to emerge from the Electoral College envelopes being counted. At least they will succeed in enough challenges and debates to give air to now-familiar refrains of election fraud and bad election procedures that Trump insists had ripped the presidency from him by the evil Democratic opponent, dead voters, immigrants, mail ballots and the media.
Maybe it’s best to see it all as political opera — though we’ll have to imagine the music.
The congressional stage opens with the closing notes of an overture combining themes from all the music groups who are suing the Trump campaign over illegal and unwarranted use at rallies that continue well after the election.
You know it’s a joint session of Congress with the Separation of the Tribes on either side of the chamber. Also, there are plenty of people who are refusing to social distance even in a time of pandemic, and the crowd is substantially older than the rest of America. The music sounds like mumbling, and no one on the floor can dance gracefully.
From the streets off-stage, we hear the percussive Plaint of the Proud Boys, threatening all, but persuading none. They are looking for someone to fight.
To what should be brass fanfares, a Processional March of the Envelopes reaches the Speaker’s dais where The Pelosi and The Pence stand as far as possible from one another, each wearing the colors of a would-be president and each refusing to acknowledge the other. In a moment, the first state’s electors are announced by The Pence, and several Congress members take out their feathered pens to create a list for addition.
Then stands the Sedition Chorus members, 13 strong from The Senate and scores from among House Republican cousins, to announce that the numbers from Arizona, Michigan, Georgia, Nevada, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin couldn’t be right: The Seditionists have tweets from their home state voters who don’t think the votes from other states could possibly be right, and therefore there is evidence of Fraud. Apparently no one complained from the nine states with the same kind of mail ballots that voted Republican.
Exeunt for two hours per state of sort-of debate about the nature of democracy, voting, emergency ballot audits, states’ rights and baying at the moon — all in separate Congressional chambers.
The Pence is in the spotlight. In a recitative, The Pence must announce news that is noxious to himself and to Dear Leader. Instead, he finds himself tongue-tied and unable to speak or to remove the fly on his head.
There is a soulful cello moment as The Pence considers what to do, interrupted by a tweet and woodwind sounds mimicking the voice of Dear Leader, alternately flattering and threatening, and once again reminding The Pence that Dear Leader won’t love him forever if he does not complete his Magic and make the Leader president again.
Mother, wife of The Pence, arrives to whisper in the ear of The Pence — she is the only woman allowed within 10 feet. In her aria, Mother has just learned that if January 20 arrives and the Congress has not counted the pile of Electoral College Votes, something called the Constitution orders that The Pelosi will become president until the evil Democratic opponent Joe Biden can take office.
In a look of horror and amid several bold orchestral exclamation chords, The Pence blurts out what has become obvious to all, that the total favors Biden.
Offstage, we hear the scream of a deranged and devastated Dear Leader.
Melancholic music marks the passage of two week. The Pelosi offers an aria to tell her gathering that The Biden has been sworn in as president in a very nice, but pandemic-sparse inauguration, that The Pence has been dispatched back to the Land of Indiana to recover from his trauma, that she is forgiving the Seditionists for temporarily losing their minds.
In the Senate, The Mitch is trying to determine if there is a Republican Party that he heads. After all, there is an evil Democratic opponent to undercut.
And, off-stage, the deposed Dear Leader is bellowing for the envelopes from the
Electoral College brought to him. The envelopes were fraudulent, he sings, and he needs to replay the day — over and over.