You may have noticed my name is “Cliff.” Now those of you who have been reading the newspapers in the USA you realize that for the past month or for most of the balance of the year 2012 the papers have been crucifying me. I’ve written to the editors of the major papers and asked that they stop using my name in such a negative manner, but with no success.
“Why,” I’ve asked, can’t they simply refer to the mess that congress has created as the “Financial Precipice?” I mean after all, as far as I know there aren’t any persons with the name “precipice.” There are however hundreds, if not thousands, of fine fellows who have been given the names of Clifford, Clifton, or even Heathcliff who have the nickname “Cliff.” Just because there aren’t any Cliff’s in congress they feel free to misuse our names.
Over across the pond they wouldn’t have chosen that word. I mean there are even more “Cliffs” in England than here. Heck they even have those “White” cliffs in Dover that they are so famous for. In America we really don’t have all that many Heathcliff’s. Actually I can’t remember meeting any Heathcliff’s. Then again I’ve never been up to Wuthering Heights. I wonder if the edge of Wuthering is at a cliff.
I can’t tell you how many threatening phone calls I’ve been getting. “Can’t you fix the mess you’ve created?” “Why have you waited so long to act, don’t you know how irresponsible that is?” As last year drew to a close I had to unplug my phone. It kept ringing. All of the newspapers placed call after call to my number asking for a progress report. Apparently the members of congress weren’t answering, and the papers felt that I should know what was going on.
I tried going over to Capitol Hill to get some information that I could pass along to the papers, but I had no luck. The few of them who were there were all in committee meetings. In room 201 the “Who can we blame for this One” committee was in session for the fifteenth time in December. Down the hall in 205 the august members were in session discussing the ramifications of compromise. I listened at the door but all I could hear was a whining collection of comments. There was, “I’m not going to give up my deduction for the pickle growers,” and “Listen we can’t take away the depreciation allowance for oil & gas. The petroleum industry is down to its last several trillion dollars in profits. If we don’t protect them they move to another country.” I left just as someone was saying “Well don’t look at the medical profession. Those damn ‘Free Clinics’ have been ruining the profits for all the private practices. Not to mention the damage to profits the President’s bill is doing.”
At the far end in the big meeting room at 210 the shouting was deafening. The revenue committee was in full session. “Why can’t we tax those ‘Soup Kitchens’? What have they donated to my re-election fund?” Another voice was saying, “I tell you it’s those illegal immigrants. We should be taxing them before we deport them.” I could barely hear a very soft voice saying “We could place a separate tax on gun sales. I mean we tax cigarettes so highly because of the damage they cause society, why not guns?” Just then I heard several shots ring out from the room and I decided it was time to get out.
I had gotten nothing that I could pass along to the papers to get them off of my back. So I returned to my humble abode, and left the phone unplugged.
