TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION: GROVER NORDQUIST STRONG-ARMS THE 2ND CONTINENTAL CONGRESS!

     Imagine this, if you will:  The date is July 4th, 1776.  The summer has been exceptionally warm and this day is no different.  The windows and doors of 520 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia have been sealed for the past several weeks, no, months actually, while the delegates of America's thirteen colonies have argued and nearly come to blows over the debate concerning breaking free from the motherland: Great Britian.  And in the meantime, more than just the hearts and souls of the delegates have been have been poured onto the floor in the selfless belief that that their convictions represent the will of their constituents.  Their very sweat has seasoned the thick oak floorboards of Independence Hall in the passionate pursuit of performing their governmental duties and responsibilities. 
     But on this day, the 4th, as that same sweat soaked the backs of these self-sacrificing men and bloated flies buzzed overhead through the stale air, a decision has been reached and the fateful step is about to be taken on behalf of the colonies and the best interest of its inhabitants.  A document was before them, writen by the quiet intellectual Jefferson, presented and maneuvered by the brilliant politician Franklin, and hammered home by the tenaciously savvy Adams.  Quills were readied, ink wells prepared and the occupants of the room steeled themselves for the signing of what could quite possibly amount to the equivalant of a collective death warrant.  Some even went so far as to practice their signatures beforehand for the benefit of King George III.
     As fingers flexed, knuckles cracked and the group formed a line leading to the heavy desk that commanded the room, an authoritative knock interupted the proceedings and all eyes turned towards the door.  In a gesture of curiosity, the closest delegate to the door, ignoring Adam's protests, turned the tarnished brass lock and in burst a bespeckled, nondescript little man sporting a short, shabby beard and a tri-cornered hat at a jaunty rake.
     "The traffic between here and Wall Street is murder this time of day!" the man announced with a wry smile.  "Plus my carraige had a flat."
     The room's occupants paled as several of them reverently dropped to their knees and a low murmur spread throughout.  "Grover Norquist...." was the name on everyone's lips and their eyes instinctively focused on the floor. 
     "Please, gentlemen," he offered, gesturing for them to stand.  "Rise.  I've come to show you the way and remind you of the pledge each of you has signed.  And fear not.  I arrived here today not to terminate your political careers, but instead to show you the error of your ways and re-educate you on the principles of the Nordquist ideology which, in case you have forgotten, supercedes that of any and all existing governments, now and always."  Raising both arms, he continued: "When we are finished here, our friends, the lobbyist Tories, have set up a buffet ouside in honor of your loyalty."  Then, as an aside he added: "I wouldn't recommend the sushi in this heat...."
     Norquist, refusing to doff his hat despite the heat, made quick work of meeting one on one with the delegates, who emerged glassy-eyed and slurring bits and pieces such as "how could I have been so wrong....", "it's all become so very clear...." and "I now see the light...."  After the last delegate staggered back in in a capitalistic stupor, Norquist herded them out the door.  "After you, lads, after you, and I'll see to it you all get a nice pocket protector, cigar cutter and other useless trinkets from the candle wax cartel...."
     Before skipping out the door, Norquist turned to the one remaining man in the once crowded room.  "You there.  Yes you of the lower class.  I am speaking to you."  The clerk, holding a handful of sharpened quills and wearing an expression of bewildered confusion, looked blankly at the day's hero.  "Take that paperwork on the desk....yes, that's right....take it, cut it into neat little strips and place it in the outhouse.  Oh, I almost forgot.  Tell that irritating Tom Paine that his book will not be published and get someone to clean the tea out of the harbor up in Boston.  No one from the dock worker's union, mind you...."
    
     How different would our history be if the brave men that created our nation's government were made of the same mettle as that of today's represenatives?  Need I even answer that?  No!  A large portion of the crowd in Washington and in our state capitals is an embarrassment to America and would probably have been laughed off the continent in 1776 and sent to Botany Bay!  Their souls are bought and paid for and their strings are pulled by a master puppeteer whose goal in no way shape or form represents what the public wants.  Look at the polls.  Taxation without representation?  History seems to be repeating itself....

e.j.g.w.