An everyman Reviews Joe’s Democratic Response and Asks “Have You Eyes?”

by Scott Creighton

“Congressman Kennedy is a relentless fighter for working Americans,” House Democratic Leader Nancy Pelosi said in a statement. “While President Trump has consistently broken his promises to the middle class, Congressman Kennedy profoundly understands the challenges facing hard-working men and women across the country.”

How deeply he understands those concerns is unclear. Kennedy is a Stanford and Harvard Law grad whose net worth is $42.3 million, according to an analysis of financial disclosure forms. That includes a $5 million trust fund. Newsweek

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Staged in an empty auto mechanics school, symbolic in it’s own right,
with a few greasers in attendance for effect like the Ford product placement carefully elevated behind him,
Joe speaks to his hand-picked gathering of elites in the empty platitudes of the moment.
With the conventional wisdom of the establishment’s catch phrases, Joe preached to the choir his sermon of identity politics.
Pausing periodically for effect,
Joe dropped his voice to a whisper at times in a bad actor’s desperate attempt to affect an emotional connection
Where clearly there was none.

As his coming out party proceeded, his introduction as the anointed one from the pretenders of the left,
Joe was too self conscience to wipe the drool from the edges of his mouth, the moment was too big for him for improvisation.
Too much at stake.
His acting coach had not prepared Joe for that potential problem,
So he pressed onward, hitting his power words, pretending he was almost about to cry, several times during his sophomoric performance.
Joe of the 5 million dollar trust fund
Feels your pain.

The DREAMers, the MeTooers, the Black Lives Matterers, Joe feels your pain.
With his furrowed brow and his pleading eyes and his moist mouth, Joe feels your pain.
No longer will the unDemocrats ignore Middle America because their shiny new 43 million dollar boy toy feels your pain.
Can’t you see him in an automotive shop were workers work?
Can’t you hear his voice break as he feels your pain?

Joe speaks

“We all feel the fractured faultlines of our country.
We hear the voices of Americans who are forgotten (breathy) and feel forsaken.
We see an economy that makes stocks soar, investor portfolios bulge and corporate profits climb.
But fails to give workers their fair share of rewards.
A government that fails to keep itself open.
(look straight into the camera, breathless yet strong)
Russia knee deep in our democracy”

Joe doesn’t feel the fractured fault-lines of our country.
Worth what he’s worth at his young age, hardly ever working outside
Congress and college, born to privilege, legacied into Harvard,
A blue-blood everyman pretender, Joe feigns empathy, and feigns it poorly.

The voices of the forgotten is the new slogan for a brand that once demanded “you’re with her”
And it is as empty now as it ever was
As the wishes of the “radical left”, the real progressives, the BernieCrats,
Still fall on the deaf, mildewed, neoliberal ears of party leadership.

Joe speaks in platitudes and Joe speaks those platitudes in Spanish
So DREAMers will “BELIEVE” in “HOPE” and “CHANGE”
Like so many others did.
But history speaks as well and Joe, mouth still moist, dares to inspire dreams, soon to become nightmares
For it isn’t empathy or compassion that drives his DREAM, but the demands of Big Business
In their never ending thirst for “MORE”

Russia. Ah… Russia.

As Joe dutifully parrots the lie, the Big Lie, the Lie to end all Lies,
One cannot help but recall the words of his distant kinsman.
A graceful king, flawed yet noble, spoke of a different tone, one of honesty and peace.
And one must ask about the fractured fault-lines that exist within our leaders,
From then to now.

Jack speaks

“I speak of peace therefore as the necessary rational end of rational men.
I realize the pursuit of peace is not as dramatic as the pursuit of war.
And frequently the words of the pursuers fall on deaf ears.
But we have no more urgent task.
Some say that it is useless to speak of peace, or world law, or world disarmament,
And that it will be useless until the leaders of the Soviet Union
Adapt a more enlightened attitude.
I hope they do. I believe we can help them do it.
But I also believe we must reexamine our own attitudes,
As individuals and as a nation.
For our attitude is as essential as theirs.
And every graduate of this school,
Every thoughtful citizen,
Who dispares of war and wishes to bring peace
Should begin by looking inward and examining his own attitude”

Look here upon this picture and on that from so many years ago.
This is a counterfeit presentment of two leaders, from the same lineage but nothing more.
Marketing sans reason.
Hype without heart.
Look you now what follows what was.
Have you not eyes? Can you not see
His presentment of a soul blasting the memory of the fallen, cashing in on another’s courage and sacrifice?
Can you not SEE?
Like old men sending the young to war,
Like plantation masters exploiting the chains of their betters,
Joe is offered by desperate pretenders as an empty placebo to a cancerous party,
Reeling in shock and in awe of a hidden power laying dormant in the hearts and minds
Of a nation.
Yet you have not eyes to see, nor heart to feel beyond that which lies within
Your own skin.

What devil was it that hath deceived us so?

—
HAMLET
Look here upon this picture and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow?
Hyperion’s curls, the front of Jove himself,
An eye like Mars to threaten and command,
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill—
A combination and a form indeed
Where every god did seem to set his seal
To give the world assurance of a man.
This was your husband. Look you now, what follows.
Here is your husband, like a mildewed ear
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed
And batten on this moor? Ha, have you eyes?
You cannot call it love, for at your age
The heyday in the blood is tame, it’s humble,
And waits upon the judgment. And what judgment
Would step from this to this? Sense sure you have,
Else could you not have motion. But sure that sense
Is apoplexed, for madness would not err,
Nor sense to ecstasy was ne’er so thralled,
But it reserved some quantity of choice
To serve in such a difference. What devil was ’t
That thus hath cozened you at hoodman-blind?
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight,
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans all,
Or but a sickly part of one true sense
Could not so mope. O shame, where is thy blush?

The State of the Union is dire, the heyday in our blood, tamed.
Fearfully we await what will never come to pass, hopes invested in a counterfeit pretender, dreams of yesterday fading to memory,
Like an aging star dying in the dark.
Our champions parrot scripts like charlatans push product, meaningless platitudes
Told by drooling idiots, full of sound and fury and breathless whispers of artificial intensity,
Signifying nothing.

Perhaps this visitation is but to wet our almost blunted purpose.
The drooling vapid boy who would be king, taking the place of his murdered kinsman,
Is but an apparition, a warning, a ghost in the machine
Of our future not yet cast in the illusions of our past.

“Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works” so we must step between our brothers
And their fighting souls,
To reclaim a palace and a dignity lost to our inaction, complacency and fear.

Look here upon this picture and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.

Look upon it and see.
Have you eyes?
Then see.

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