In my before life, before nursing, I worked on Capitol Hill. I was dating the senior legal counsel to House Administration and he got me a job lickety split. From that receptionist job for a freshman Republican congressman, I bounced around changing jobs every two years as some won and others lost their elections. Finally I worked my way into an actual writing job for the Joint Economic Committee where I stayed for seven years. These were the best, and certainly most exciting, years of my young life.
I was so young I still remembered some cheers from high school, and found myself the captain of the Republican cheerleading squad for the annual Congressional Baseball Game, held in the old stadium in Baltimore. My grandmother in California actually saw me on TV as I introduced my team to a packed stadium of about 500 people. OK. Maybe there were more, but from midfield it looked pretty empty.
I miss those days, not only because they were in the highlight reel of my youth, but I don’t think they exist any more for anyone. Back then we could have cared less who was a Republican or a Democrat. We were there to make money and have fun. Lots of fun. If you ever saw the movie St. Elmo’s Fire, I can personally attest to that being spot on to the way things were.
But no longer. Capitol Hill is a war zone. And the members are the generals and their staff are the grunts. Staff answer the screaming phone calls. Staff read the hate mail. Staff are overworked because no one wants to intern or get a foot in the door for their own political careers. It is not a coveted job any longer. I can’t imagine working there now. And I really can’t figure out why anyone would. Give me a trauma ICU any day of the week. I’m sure it’s quieter and friendlier and more fun.
But I can’t be the only person on this planet who understands how SOMEONE can think that shooting a member who has a history of affiliation with the KKK is a good idea. I don’t have a violent bone in my body, but plenty of people do. (Read The Sociopath Next-door.) This was GOING to happen. Hate begets hate. Crazy behavior begets crazy behavior. It’s not right, but it is what it is.
And unless and until someone puts a sock in his mouth and a sock over his tweeting fingers, and you know who I am talking about, this rage will continue, and so will the carnage. “Sad.”