Anxious children sit in neat rows of desks within their dreary concrete and steel classroom and wait nervously for their substitute teacher to arrive for today's period 1 session. Will it be Mrs. Wong, the part-time sub and full-time Progressive Liberal? Oh, please, no. The last time she was here, each had to write a paper on the vital importance of Green Energy and cite 'sources' (most of which necessarily came from the www.thinkprogress.org site) and then bring it home for their parents to read, and sign, to prove that the parents actually read it. Yes, why just brain-wash the young when there's still a chance to reach the OLD at the same time?
.
Might it be Mr. Clepfer, the retired ex-New York State Worker who eats his wax-paper-wrapped sandwich from a greasy brown paper bag in his nondescript gray panel van in a parking space overlooking the playground?
.
Once again, oh, please, no. The dude is weird. The guy always carries balloons with him. Is he a clown running from a circus, or is he some kind of, what's the word... "p-r-e-v-e-r-t"? Regardless, the school district loves this guy, he's interesting to keep around, and he works CHEAP, it's almost like he'd spend time around the kids for FREE if given the chance. The kids, however, know there's something not right with Mr. C, they're always on their best behavior in class because none of them want to spend time with him after the period ends.
.
The door of the classroom swings open, a man in a gray suit, white shirt and red tie steps into the classroom and...
.
"Mr. Moos! Where have you been?!?!" Tommy shouts.
.
"Well, Tommy, I've been busy with family, I had my son back from Graduate School for a week, I spent another couple of weeks doing tax returns for the family and..."
.
"Hey, Mr. Moos, did you lose some weight?" Anna asks.
.
"Yeah, just a little kidd-o, I've been going to the gym three to four days a week, eating a little healthier, and trying hard to live long enough to be a financial burden to future taxpayers, like, um, you guys!" The he drops his case onto the desk in the front of the room. "So, what are you learning about in your class? Where are you in your New York (rotten to the) common core curriculum?"
.
A hand shoots up near the back of the room, "We're learning about the Senate Mr. Moos, it's kind of boring, and most of the stuff is from a long time ago, like when you were a kid, you know, a really long time ago." Reggie says.
.
"Ah, yes, Reggie, the Constitutional Convention of 1787, I remember it well. The summer was hot and muggy, and none of the air conditioning worked particularly well back then. I was just a boy, about your age, and I was much thinner then, because you know, I was walking to school uphill both ways in the heat and snow every day and working on the family farm every night..." He says this as he drapes his suit jacket over the back of the teacher's chair, sits down, and looks at the students once again.
.
"Yup, things were hard back then. You could depend on your family and your neighbors, the government stayed out of your life pretty much, because it wasn't as intrusive as it is today. There was no such thing as 'Unemployment' because you had to work, farm, and often to barter to support your family. If you didn't farm, work, or have a skill someone wanted, you had to rely on family or religious organizations for assistance - and most people were once too proud to do this."
.
"Mr. Moos, what else was different about America when you were a kid?" Abigail asks.
.
Well, when I was a kid, I remember that I named my favorite cow 'Bossie', and I did it without offending anyone..." His eyes drift upward to the ceiling as a tear forms in the corner of his right eye. He wipes the tear away casually, hoping that no one has noticed the depth of emotion which the memory triggered.
.
"Was the cow a girl cow Mr. Moos?" Abigail asks. "Because if it was a girl cow, you couldn't name her that today..."
.
"Yes, Abby, she was a girl cow; she was an udderly wonderful girl cow." he responds as he opens the teacher's handbook lying on the desktop. "So, what have you learned about the United States Senate in your class thus far?" he asks.
.
Hands around the room shoot up and he points to the small quiet boy sitting directly in front of him. "Yes Tim, what have you learned about the United States Senate so far?"
.
"Well, I learned that people have to be thirty years old to run for the Senate. Each Senator has a six-year term, and there are two Senators from each State. AND my Dad tells me that the current leader of the Senate is Harry Reid and..." the boy's voice drops off as he sits down again.
.
"Yes Tim, what about Harry Reid? Why'd you get so very quiet?" Mr. M. asks as he looks into the boys reddening face.
.
"My Mom told me that if you have nothing nice to say about someone, not to say anything at all." Tim says as he lowers his eyes from the man in front of him to his own hands in front of him on his desk.
.
"Oh, I see. It sounds like you've been following the news lately? You know, it's funny, but when I was substitute teaching your older brother a few years ago, I told him a story about Harry Reid back when President Obama was running for re-election in 2012. I understand your reluctance to say any more than you have. It's hard to say something nice about a man whose brain is full of spiders and whose heart is full of dark, soft, sucking things which make slurping sounds that can be heard from across the room. Yeah, I get it."
.
"Really, you can HEAR them - out loud?" Tim asks.
.
"You betcha. Sometimes you can hear the slurping noises when he's speaking on the floor of the Senate. And if you are watching very closely - when the light is just right, you can see his eyes change from a man's eyes, to those of a reptile..."
.
"Hey Mr. Moos, is it true that Harry Reid takes money from his re-election funds and gives it to family members?" Mary asks.
.
."Yes Mary, he sent $31,000 to his granddaughter's company to buy gifts for people, illegally spending the money from his campaign fund and paying it to family members." the man says.
.
"If this is illegal, has he ever done it before? How come he's not in jail?" Mary wonders.
.
"Those are excellent questions, and the answer is that it IS illegal, he has done it before, and he's not in jail because he's a loyal Democrat," the man says with a serious expression on his face.
.
"Come on, Mr. Moos, you can't tell me that he's done the same thing before, can you? If he's the leader of the Senate wouldn't breaking the law be, um, you know, a BAD thing?" Mary asks.
.
"Normally I would say yes. But with the current crop of weasels we have in the Senate, breaking the law is something that they feel like they can do without getting punished. As a matter of fact, for a Democrat in Congress breaking the law is a resume' enhancer. In 2006 Harry Reid also used campaign funds to give Christmas gifts to employees at the Condominium he owns at the Ritz-Carlton in Washington, DC. He said it was a mistake and that he would pay the money from his own funds, reimbursing the campaign fund."
.
"But he DID pay back the money in 2006, Mr. Moos? Abigail asks.
.
"Sure, after he got caught, just like he's doing again this time." Mr. Moos responds. "He normally pays up after he gets caught breaking the law."
.
"So besides breaking Federal Campaign Law, what else has Harry Reid been up to?" Mary asks.
.
"In 2006, a $286-billion federal transportation bill included a little-noticed slice of pork pushed by Reid which provided benefits for the casino town of Laughlin, Nevada. The interesting thing is that Senator Reid owned 160 acres of land in the area and the subsequent Federal spending he promoted drove the price of his land holdings up significantly. But as the Senator stated when questioned about his involvement in the earmark (pork) process, "There's nothing basically wrong with earmarks. They've been going on since we were a country." Well maybe, but between 1995 and 2005 the number of earmarks grew from about 1,400 to over 15,000 in 2006."
.
"So he used Federal money to make more money for himself?" asks Tim.
.
"Yup kidd-o, you've got it. But don't worry, it gets worse." says Mr. Moos.
.
"How could that be?" Abigail asks Mr. M.
.
"Abigail, I hate to be the one to tell you, but Harry Reid believes that your parents, and your grandparents just aren't smart enough to know what a great thing that he and the President has done for you..."
.
"Aw, come on Mr. Moos, you're pulling my leg, right? He wouldn't really think we're stupid, would he?" Abigail asks.
.
"Just this week Harry Reid told the Press that, “We have hundreds of thousands of people who tried to sign up who didn’t get through. There are some people who are not like my grandchildren who can handle everything so easily on the Internet, and these people need a little extra time. It’s not — the example they gave us is a 63-year-old woman came into the store and said, ‘I almost got it. Every time I just about got there, it would cut me off.’ We have a lot of people just like this through no fault of the Internet, but because people are not educated on how to use the Internet.” Mr. Moos shrugs his shoulders and looks at the children in the classroom. "So what do you think about Dirty Harry Mason Reid now?"
.
"He's a freaking idiot." Reggie murmurs aloud. "My Grandmother is on Facebook all the time AND she buys most of my Christmas gifts on Amazon because it's easier for her to do it online."
.
"Mr. Moos - if people are too stupid to use the Internet, why would the Federal Government launch the ObamaCare site ON the Internet in the first place?" asks Abigail.
.
"That is an excellent question Abigail, unfortunately, I'm not the best person to answer it. Have your parents call their local House representatives and State Senators to ask them. After all, these people answer to you folks, if they don't like the answer they get, toss the bums out." Mr. Moos sits back in his chair and glances up at the clock, "Hey what are you kids having for lunch today in the cafeteria?"
.
"We bring our own lunches to school now," Reggie says.
.
"How come?" asks Mr. Moos.
.
"That new Michelle Obama Meal Plan? It's like eating yard grass clippings, so we brown-bag our lunches in our back packs." Reggie says. "You know, just like Mr. Clepfer does, except we're not 'weird' like he is."
.
"Yikes, I'm sorry kids. I didn't know things were that bad."
.
"Ah, it's not all bad Mr. Moos, a bunch of us got together and we're selling those little bags of Doritos in the lunch room - we're making pretty good coin too."
.
"Well played my tiny entrepreneurs - but how does the school staff feel about you guys selling food in the Cafeteria?" asks Mr. Moos.
.
Reggie smiles as he leans in towards Mr. Moos desk and asks, "Who do you think is buying most of our sugary contraband snacks?"
.
Mr. Moos smiles, closes the text book sitting on the desk in front of him and says, "You know, I think you kids are going to be just fine. Yes, you're going to be just fine indeed..."
.
