You disgust me.
You appall me and make me sick.
I’m not alone. Check the Twitterverse under hash tag #DearCongress and you’ll see.
Your actions are repugnant. Your egos are out of control. Your arrogance is repulsive. You are a disgrace to our nation.
Quit hijacking America.
Your inactions are reckless, plain and simple.
And those are the more tactful opinions. Such phrases barely describe the deep sense of despair I feel every time I hear one singularly searing word: Washington.
Who do you think you are, posing and posturing like perverse models on a horror-show catwalk?
Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll answer that: You’re a bunch of bratty men and women who care only about getting re-elected, that’s who you are. Spare me the BS about principles. I’ve long surrendered the belief, the hope, that you have the country’s interest at heart. You’ve made a mockery of “We, the people” and warped it into “Me, my narrow interests.”
A temporary government shutdown is one thing, but a U.S. government default, which is likely if Congress doesn’t raise the debt ceiling pronto, could be catastrophic. And that’s what some radical House members want. Unfortunately, they’re helped, in a twisted co-dependency, by a few weak colleagues who aren’t brave enough to buck the radicals. Yes, I’m talking to you, John Boehner.
Need I remind you, #DearCongress, that if the House of Representatives voted on a budget bill but did not attempt to defund the Affordable Care Act, the bill would pass without a problem. But Boehner has refused to let the House vote.
The time for an intervention is long past.
If I had my way, you’d all be getting a long timeout from politics.
If I had my way, you’d be kneeling on a pebbly floor for the duration of your terms. (A favored punishment in Catholic schools back in the day.)
If I had my way, you’d suffer the same fate as furloughed federal employees: missed paychecks.
As I write this, you’re getting paid for doing … what, exactly?
In my line of work — in any line of work, for that matter — you wouldn’t get a dime without results, without producing something. But not you, #DearCongress, not you. You’ll be banking those salaries even as you fail miserably at your job.
Then again, maybe you’re so dysfunctional, so narcissistic and disturbed that you think a minority can hold the rest of the country hostage. Maybe you truly think that a good temper tantrum will get you what you want.
I’m one of your coveted voters. A registered independent who has voted both sides of the aisle. Hispanic. Mother and grandmother. Well-read and well-educated. Longtime stock and real estate investor.
I hope, #DearCongress, that by the time this letter is posted online and printed in the newspaper, you’ll have come to your senses. Don’t fake it, though. We won’t accept piecemeal funding of selected “essential” federal services, such as that ridiculous effort to keep national parks open while refusing to provide money for the 200 cancer patients admitted weekly to new clinical trials by the National Institutes of Health.
One last thing, #DearCongress. Just because I’ve run out of words for your behavior doesn’t mean I’ve depleted my anger — or my intent to express it in the most effective way possible. At the ballot box.
Truly not yours,
Follow Ana on Twitter @AnaVeciana.