The Midnight Hour

As I began my drive home this afternoon I was shocked to find that while I was away from the helm, at work, earning sustenance for my family and contributing my paltry part to the country’s first $3 trillion budget, some members of Congress were listening to sworn testimony from Roger Clemens on his alleged use of steroids.

WTF.

I’m pissed off about this. I think you should be pissed off too. In this day of 101 national crises Congress’s time is consumed by professional baseball and steroid use. Really?

I’m not going to dive far into the argument about Congress having no authority or relevance in discussing professional baseball and/or steroid use. I think that one’s pretty clear: they don’t. The affairs of Major League Baseball, an entertainment based business, have no place on the floor of the United States Congress. Furthermore, even if lawbreaking is concerned shouldn’t the state in which the law was broken be the concerned party? Even if somehow in the deepest, darkest pits of irrationality you can substantiate steroid use by baseball players as a federal issue, here’s a thought: wrong branch of government. There’s only three. They had 33% odds, and they still managed to foul that one up.  Doesn’t the judicial branch hear cases and decide wrongdoing? Is this an impeachment hearing? Did I miss something? Were Roger and his accuser aimlessly wandering D.C. when their car crashed into the Capitol building like Britney Spears’ sanity, and then they decided to give some testimony while that clever green lizard worked out the insurance claim?

On that note, how did Clemens get the chance to plead his case in front of a congressional committee? Apparently he volunteered for the gig, so how does one volunteer? What criteria decide whether your case is accepted? Perhaps Congress can settle some petty disputes I’m having.

I shall write a letter to the honorable Ms. Nancy Pelosi…

Dear Madame Speaker:

I wish to appear before the legislature and give sworn testimony in order to clear my good name. Last week while retrieving my mail I happened upon my neighbor, Mitch, while standing near my mailbox. After exchanging greetings and turning back towards our respective houses, a dastardly gust of wind blew in from a paper mill in a neighboring county. While I correctly identified the smell as such, Mitch claims emphatically that it was I who produced the stench, and has since been spreading false claims of my flatulence throughout our neighborhood. Surely you will agree that if the issue of what chemicals enter the ass of a professional athlete necessitates swift action by the Congress then the equally important topic of what chemicals emanate from mine must be given no less measure.

Sincerely,

Jeffrey D. Barnett