Do you know who wrote the book “Field of Dreams”? It was a guy named W.P. Kinsella. The most memorable quote in the book is: “if you build it, they will come.”
The Republican Party-2012 field of presidential candidates is before us. We understand what appeared a verdant meadow is a sparsely populated, flora choked landscape showing weeds masquerading as (and being mistaken for) Kentucky Blue Grass. This pasture’s as socially and politically nurturing as a septic tank.
True; we’ve whittled the list of candidates to a “gang of four”. One is unflinchingly devoted to his decades old political platform. His steadfast adherence to his campaign planks borders on religious dogma. His flock grazes euphorically on his rhetoric like the contented believers they are. There’s no harm in that. But is this the man we want? If you think Obama’s foreign policy is destructive, this guy has some very interesting but some feel unrealistic beliefs concerning isolation (by debate) superseding knee jerk intervention in other’s business. Israel would conservatively dislike and distrust him as much as they liberally dislike and distrust Obama. The wood in his bench is intact but few want him managing their team.
The next guy has a batting average any soccer player could be proud of. He’s been a successful businessman, a governor of a major liberal state noted for ignoring anybody not anointed by the Kennedy clan. To prove he’s conservative, he helped develop the Mandatory-Single Payer Healthcare system Obama copied almost verbatim at one point. His platform is evolutionary. What he says first is a blueprint. His change orders fly faster than a meteor. His politico/epilepsian (seizure-like) contortions indicate his lack of integrity on issues.
He’s backtracked so often his snowshoes melted. He trips while running the bases because of those snowshoes. No cleats anchor him to his diminishing conservative base. He changes shoes regularly occasionally coming back to the first pair he tried. He mismatches his socks daily but proudly says he has a matching pair.
Our next player is the political epitome of the old pro in the 1951 movie: Angels in the Outfield. The old pro appears washed up; but he pitches the final game of the World Series because the manager knows the old pro is scheduled to report to Heaven’s Dugout soon. People’s heads deformed because of the tears being jerked out of their ducts.
People’s heads nearly implode when inspecting this candidate’s character flaws, inflated ego and transparent self-service. The minor leagues for this player will amount to him being benched in an irrelevant venue somewhere near the showers. He’ll still be on the team just removed from the action on-field. Think John McCain with better hair.
The last one’s a relative rookie. His uniform appears clean, his shoes polished and his glove relatively untested. But he’s played the game; just not at this level. More a Bat Boy than a lead-off batter he’s getting his chance to take the field with the “big boys”. It remains to be seen if he has the necessary skills to beat the opposition. But the kid’s got game and is showing that gut-level hunger a major leaguer needs to stay in the game.
The major problem for all of them is the way they’ve torn each other to shreds. They’ve done this without conscience. They’ve shown they’re on the field themselves. Their representation of America has placed us in the nose-bleed section. We look like participants in the festivities but we’re so far and away from the real action, we appear superfluous and as such, irrelevant. The managers and owners (the political parties and unions as well as the wealthy insiders) are the one’s profiting from these games.
Where America pleads for leadership, nobody in this league looks like Lou Gehrig, Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio or Ted Williams. They created our metaphorical Field of Dreams. The political planks out here in the cheap seats are worn, but still splintering enough to painfully remind us this game’s going badly for us.
We’ve got a Field of Weeds needing more tilling than we have time for right now.
Thanks for listening.