It was not a happy morning. See, usually after the “patented Grad-U-Wake tone” of my clock-radio gently pulls me from the bliss of dreamland in a manner most accurately captured on film by the late-night soap beating of the fat guy in Full Metal Jacket , the radio part of the thing steps in to soothe me with a nice reminder of personal accomplishment: not matter what else, at least I’m not a Republican. NPR’s patiently objective flow of stories about the weak and ignorant masses flocking to fill up on the miracle tonics for sale at Dr. G.W. Bush’s Bicameral Medicine Show streams past me, washing me out of bed and depositing me gently on the Moral High Ground, ready for another day. It’s nice to feel superior first thing in the morning; I have to admit I’ve grown used to it over these last few years.
Today, however, everything was upside down. The radio was telling a dark tale of a power-mad chief executive whose party controlled both legislative houses sneakily denying the constituents of two opposition senators the right participate in our democracy through their elected representatives, all to force some crazy plan of said Chief Executive down the throats of the 50% of voters who didn’t think it was such a hot idea. A sad, but standard story; I readied myself to take my usual place among the righteous. But when I got to the Moral High Ground, there they were, clear as day…Republicans! Panic set in: what was happening—who let those assholes in here? As I continued to wake up, the sad truth appeared through the groggy haze: it seems I had been denied my normal morning routine because the guys that had pulled this particular stunt were my guys— my Democratic Governor, Mike Easley, had convinced my Democratic legislative leadership to finally pass his lottery scheme by holding the vote when two Republican senators couldn’t be there Apparently, he was tired of the democratic process—everyone else has a lottery, damnit, why should he have to wait?—so, like a certain spineless President I know, Easley just decided to wait until his opponents back was turned to shoot them down.
Suddenly, it felt way too early in the morning. Easley must know winning the lottery isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I thought. I mean, didn’t he watch the last season of Roseanne? Maybe he missed the last episode, where you learn all the happiness the Connors had enjoyed after they won that money was just a Cheetos-and-Dr. Pepper-fueled fantasy of Roseanne’s that she cooked up while sitting alone watching TV… Still, why would he pull such a blatantly dishonest tactic like calling the senate back out of the blue to vote on the most contentious issue of the past few years when he knew some senators couldn’t attend? Wasn’t there someone who could stop morons like this? Honestly! Who votes for these people…oh, right. Fuck!
Of course, there’s a good reason all these Democrats surrendered to such childish impatience. Just ask them: they brazenly and maliciously cheated two senators out of their rights to be heard to provide more positive examples to children (who, for those of you who still haven’t heard, Are Our Future). Here’s how they hope to build a better state for the leaders of tomorrow: first, they take a bunch of money we’ve already given them through taxes—for things like, you know, schools—and use it to pay for a huge advertising blitz. Is this blitz aimed at educating people about the myriad of benefits a top-notch public education system will get their state, and about how much closer $50 per taxpayer per year would move the schools toward that top notch? Nope, the ads will be used to dangle a preposterously huge cash prize in front of us on TV. A preposterously huge cash prize that’s so impossible to win, most people have a better chance of their gender spontaneously changing after they wake up naked in the Oval Office on Flag Day then they do getting their hands on the money. And that’s where the payday for the schools comes in—since no one wins, the state gets to keep just over a third of the money people have gambled; 35 cents of each dollar. Sound low? Well, in order to keep people playing such long odds, the prize has to be so astronomically huge that no one in their right mind could risk the chance of being the one person anywhere to have an eventful flag day and not play, so most of what’s taken in has to go to prizes. Oh, and the company the state to hires to run their little numbers racket? You better believe its getting a taste—about 15% goes to “administrative costs”. That’s money that goes to nothing productive—not prizes to get people to keep playing, and not to the schools, just the stockholders of some company that’s not even based in North Carolina.
Doesn’t take a genius to be skeptical of such a plan, huh? Hell, even Republicans had misgivings, and this lottery deal includes a huge payday to an out-of-state corporation. Half the people are already wise to how silly this thing is—that’s why the Democrats had to pull their little maneuver Tuesday in the first place. And maybe that’s the most ironic part of this whole thing: in order to provide a better education to tomorrow’s kids, the Democratic leadership has gambled that future generations of North Carolinians will actually be stupider than the current one is—after all, smart people don’t wait up after the local news for some bimbo to pull ping pong balls out of a tube (well, maybe just smart people without Cinemax…). Instead of the educated offering a helping hand to those without knowledge, North Carolina’s now going to be a place where the dim pay for the education of the bright and relying on the gullibility of the ignorant is an ugly way for a state to pay for an education system as far as I’m concerned. I just wish I knew where to go with my righteous indignation. I mean, it’s still nice to be right, but who wants to hang out on the Moral High Ground when it’s all full of Republicans?
