Inane Asylum continued ...

  “Moving right along, see that very modern-looking desk on your right? You’ll notice the person wearing a mask. I don’t even know his or her name. That person has been nick-named the ‘Anti-Robin Hood;’ his or her main goal in this administration is to rob from the poor and give to the rich. It’s rumored that A.R.H. single-handedly promoted reducing Medicare benefits to this nation’s poorest children and fought tooth and nail to defeat any increase in the federal minimum wage. You may not know this little-known fact but, since 1997, Congress has voted eight pay raises for itself and not one dime for workers making the minimum wage. In fact, the annual salary for members of Congress has gone up $31,600 during that time, while a minimum-wage employee working full-time only earns $10,712 per year. That’s pretty good for Congress, doncha think? Also, our masked person teamed up with the desk right next to him, occupied by ‘Spending Siegfried,’ to pass the most recent spending and tax-reduction bills. I have been informed their combined motto has been approved by President Bush and the GOP - ‘the heck with our budget and trade deficits, full-spending torpedoes ahead.’ And to accomplish this and hopefully increase the federal deficit, which they view as good for America, are the tax reduction provisions that most agree are vigorously slanted in favor of the wealthy. To accomplish this, the Senate just recently passed a $70 billion tax-cut bill.

  Mr. Hawker looked at his watch and exclaimed, “Golly, we’re running way behind, and I must cover corruption and immigration,” and he hurried us down the corridor.

  “There’s ‘Corruptible Clifton’ right now. See him waving at us? Such a nice wave. This Jack Abramoff mess shook up Congress. (Audible giggles in the crowd.) No, that’s true, really. Alright, I’ll level with you; most congresspersons were upset for about eighteen minutes, but that’s a record. Former Republican power representative Tom DeLay resigned from office, and some of his former employees are in serious legal trouble. The ongoing investigation will probably nab more senators and representatives, too. The public and opinion polls have called for greater ethics reform, particularly regarding lobbyist activism. However, good old Clifton has done his best to water-down all ethics measures. In fact, perks such as lobbyist-financed trips, paid meals, and low-cost flights on corporate jets have been significantly untouched by the House bill recently passed by a 217-213 vote. The Senate’s GOP new man on ethics, Rick Santorum, probably stretched his own ethics by receiving benefits from his PAC for personal expenditures. By the look of the Gucci travel bags next to Clifton’s desk, Cliff’s probably scheduled to take another lobbyist-paid junket to places unspecified.

Continued ...

  What is it with our bathroom scale? What have I ever done to it?

  I think it’s one of those rogue scales—you know, like a rogue elephant running wild in a Tarzan movie. It’s a pleasant-looking machine, a beige Health-O-Meter with a large digital readout and a ribbed step pad. My wife and I respect, honor and cherish our scale. We change the batteries ahead of schedule. We take great care never to drip on it, and Cheddar, our seventy-pound golden retriever, isn’t permitted in the bathroom. But, our scale apparently wants more out of life.

  The scale has it in for me, in a big way! It treats my wife with due scale respect, but not me.

  You may be unsurprised to hear that I’m constantly trying to lose weight, and a pound one way or the other means a lot to me. I weigh myself every evening and morning.

  Last night I played full-court basketball for an hour and a half, then drank two glasses of grapefruit juice, watched CSI: Miami and weighed myself: 209 pounds. Good. The conditions were ideal for a morning weigh-in of 205-206 pounds. Wind was from the southwest at 10-15 mph, and the humidity was 37 percent. During the night I made two trips to the bathroom, but otherwise slept soundly.

  KTG (Kathryn the Great, my wife) and Cheddar left for a walk at 5:30 AM. I hit the scale at 6:30. It read 207 pounds. Okay, I can live with that.

  I relieved myself once more, brushed my teeth, and was about to vacate the area when the scale broadcasted its force field: “Come on, big guy, one more weigh-in for the road. How about it, buff-master?” What could I say? I took the chance. Maybe now I’ll be 206, right? Wrong.

  I was 210 pounds! Unbelievable. Three pounds heavier? I would’ve had to swallow a quart and a half of toothpaste water. I tried again, shifting my weight on the step pad. After a second or two at 209, it bounced up to 211 and threatened to stay there before settling down to 210.

  Tears welled in my ducts. My wake-up elation had turned to weigh-in depression. I gloomily donned my socks, loose-fitting Dockers and a shirt. I started brewing the morning coffee just as KTG and Cheddar returned. KTG gave me a hug and a penetrating look and observed, “Oh, you weighed yourself already.” She’s great at picking up subtle behavioral cues, like me slamming the refrigerator door.

  I poured our coffee and took a couple of swigs. With a light kiss on my cheek, she suggested soothingly, “Why don’t you try it again?”

  “Well, Cheddar, is she right? Should I do it? What do you think?”

  Cheddar’s eyes and tail signaled his complete unconditional approval. They were his code for “A great idea! Smartest thing I ever heard!” Unless, of course, he meant, “You said my name! Do I get a treat?”

  We fashioned a little parade down the hall to the bathroom. Never a cautious codger, I stepped spiritedly onto the scale. Two hundred and eight pounds—including half a cup of coffee, socks, shirt and those extra-roomy Dockers.

  I looked in amazement at my wife; she smiled gently. I looked in amazement at Cheddar; he was already curled on his rug in the bedroom.

  As I left the bathroom, somewhat satisfied, I could swear I heard the scale jiggle smugly. Shaking my head, I turned toward the bed where, BC, king of our two cats, was grinning from whisker to whisker…something he never does.