Dear Senator McConnell:
Several times over the last few days, I’ve heard clips of
your Thelma and Louise comments. It’s embarrassing enough to hear your
ridiculous, mostly untrue statements the first time. I still suffer a bit of PTSD over
the static cling comments about a decade ago. Living with media repeats is
torture and, unlike you and your party, your sane constituents don’t like torture. There’s a slight possibility that sharing my own Thelma and Louise
story with you might be therapeutic, so I'm willing to give it a shot.
Debra was a Face Book friend first. We met in a support
group for people who were suffering the devastation of having to live with your
sidekick, Rand Paul. Adding Rand Paul to Mitch McConnell was very much like
adding the secondary diagnosis of chronic fatigue to my already existing
rheumatoid arthritis. I needed support.
After Rand Paul hired goons to stomp heads and refused to
accept responsibility for that disgraceful decision, Debra and I met in person
when we drove to Lexington together to attend the head stomper’s trial. In case
you haven’t had the experience, it is such a pleasure to finally meet someone
you have only communicated with on paper or via the internet, and discover that
the real person behind the written word is every bit as intelligent, generous, passionate,
and warm as you expected. (Seriously, you should agree to meet Debra and me
sometime. Seriously – as in not pretending that you are finally willing to meet
with everyone by scheduling a Tea Party event outdoors on the Capital steps
where we have to risk our reputations or lives in order to maybe get to ask you
a question that you can ignore in person.)
One of the big bonuses with Debra was that in addition to intelligent, generous, passionate, and warm, she is also lots
of fun. We jumped into her cute little red car and cruised down the highway,
chatting and laughing as though we’d known each other forever. Along the way, we phoned two more
allies we were to meet in Lexington.
It was almost like a party.
Excitement mounted as we neared our destination. When I neglected
my map duties to check the posters in the back seat, Debra made a wrong
turn. We laughed as we ended up in a parking lot with a
one-way lane to an exit that would lose us even more. She looked at me and
said, “Well, Thelma, do we break the law or go off the cliff?”
I said I wanted to be Louise, and I was okay with breaking the one-way parking lot law. She agreed and turned
the car around.
Okay. I know my Thelma and Louise story has nothing to do
with economics. But it is fun and honest so I beat you on at least two points. Your Thelma
and Louise story is a dishonest pretense at a discussion about economics and it is neither fun nor honest.
Debra and I survived our wrong turn, made it to court, got a
television interview, and got back home safely. I don’t think your trip over
the cliff will end successfully. You see, Senator McConnell, at this point in
the game, going over that cliff won’t hurt most of us at all.
But it will hurt you.
Hoping you put the pedal to the metal so we can be free of
you,
Sandy
