Our political process is so broken that we need a new show of populism and power.
Published Aug. 21, 1994; distributed by Copley News Service
By Dennis Robaugh
“L’État c’est moi.” (“I am the state.”) — Louis XIV, 17th century king of France
With the belief they are indispensable to the governing of the nation, far too many politicians lay claim to a privilege before the law more fitting to royalty.
Lawyers for President Clinton – accused of sexual harassment by Paula Jones – recently claimed the president cannot be sued for anything that took place before he took office.
In Washington legal circles, this is known as the “White House As Home Base” theory. All the president must do is run back to the White House, touch it, and scream “Base!” to avoid being tagged with a subpoena by scurrying litigants.
The Supreme Court has rejected this notion, however, to the great amusement of Clarence Thomas, the court's designated sex-farce expert.
Lawyers for U.S. Rep. Dan Rostenkowski (D-IL), accused of fraud and corruption, recently tried to convince the court that any investigation of the congressman is improper because to do so infringes on the constitutional right of Congress to make up its own rules.
Their hubris is nothing new.
They are only observing a time-honored leadership tradition. Was it not Richard Nixon who said, “It's not illegal if the president does it”?
It’s also not really their fault. The fault lies with voters who haven’t quite drummed into politicians’ noggins the lesson many of us learned at our first jobs: No one is indispensable — except for the guy who can fix the copy machine.
They fail to grasp that we did not send them to Washington for their brainpower, but just to do what we tell them to do.
Despite all the grandstanding and playacting, we know the real business of policymaking is done by public opinion polls. The scandals and investigations are distractions. Perhaps we should dispense with the time-consuming drudgery of Congress and the unrelenting corruption, and institute an entirely new system of government that's already a popular TV game show — “The Family Feud.”
We pit families of five Democrats against five Republicans. The show can be hosted by Richard Dawson, an Englishman, to maintain that historical link to Great Britain, of which we are so proud.
“We asked 100 registered voters, ‘What would you like to see in a crime bill?’”
GOP dad Bob Dole slaps the buzzer.
“Death penalty for the murder of a federal chicken inspector.”
Blap!
“Sorry. Democrats, you have a chance to steal. … No, Dan, not from the House post office, just this legislative round,” says Dawson. “What are your answers?”
A prison in every congressional district.
Federal marshals to guard children's lunch money.
Put 100,000 more police officers on the street — preferably my street or one nearby.
“Richard, I think we're going to go with a ban on assault weapons.”
Ding ding ding ding ding. Legislation passed!
The party that wins the round can claim credit for the bill. This way, we limit all legislative sessions to 30 minutes, including commercials. Everybody with a TV gets to see the process, and the desires of the populace are served.
We can sell it to the networks as “populism programming.”