Every so often, I take my little boat out into the gulf about 12 miles where it’s deep enough to catch some decent fish. Last summer, I got caught in a frightening 60 mph squall that kicked up rough seas and almost capsized my little boat. I could imagine myself floating beside that upturned boat for days and nights waiting for someone to happen alongside me 12 miles out in the gulf.
I could see Governor Romney pull up in his yacht and squawk done from his loudspeaker that he was doing all he could to entice rescue boats out into the sea to help me. If I would vote for him, he would go back to the marina and drop fuel taxes to make it less costly for boats to travel. He would eliminate any needless boating regulations to increase demand for fishing boats so that more would venture out. And he would ensure that lawsuit payouts were capped on any mishaps that might occur during a rescue attempt so that rescuers would feel safer if they tried to help me. Then his yacht turned and he left me to bob up and down in the gulf.
Don’t get me wrong. If no other options are out there, I am thankful for what the Governor will do. And during his Republican National Convention, he did convince me of his sincerity. But I am frightened. It’s been days since I first was tossed by world circumstances into the water. I am weak from hanging on. I am dehydrated from the searing sun and each night that goes by in the silent sea, I fear that sharks will finally cut through my dangling legs. I need real, direct assistance. I can get by in life on the rules of capitalism but I cannot swim 12 miles to shore from this unexpected and violent economic squall.
I could see President Obama pull up in his motor boat and attempt to help me too. He literally jumped in the water to swim to me but tired and doggy paddled back to his boat. He tossed several life rings of job programs and housing assistance my way but the tosses always came up short. Mostly, he just seemed distracted by political waves and shielded his eyes from the glaring rays of healthcare and budget derisiveness. I lost confidence in his ability to lend a hand up from the drink.
Then last night, as I anxiously floated in my waterlogged lifejacket losing hope, President Clinton pulled up to my boat and gave the most believable talk. He spoke to the heart and explained compassionately that tossing rings is not an easy task. His experience was that President Obama needed more than 3.5 years practice throwing rings. He promised that the President would not forget my coordinates and would continue to come out to my capsized dinghy and throw rings until he reached me.
So far I am still drenched in salt water with my feet dangling in the deep and no one has shown me a way out. But Bill Clinton more than anyone gave me a reason to keep clinging to the side of my upturned boat with hope. Will anyone prior to November 6th show me a direct way out of the sea, perhaps not? But because of President Clinton, the vote is still anyone’s guess.
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