Did you ever notice how most fortune tellers operate out of a shack? This credibility-crushing anomaly doesn’t seem to bother most people, however. We’re told that these "servants of fate" cannot, by definition, use their special powers for self-advancement. (Makes perfect sense to me.)
Kind of reminds you of congressmen. They’re fortune tellers, too, inhabiting a federal ruin. Still, the trusting voter invests in the hope. And the politician provides the rope. Over the years, the noose tightens insidiously, and, then, one day, the trap door springs open. On the way down, the voter’s lifetime of wasted votes flashes before his eyes. An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge for the terminally innocent.
Admittedly, the whole process has a certain insane beauty, perhaps due to our peculiarly American penchant for self-deception. Ultimately, the "deal" that Congress has made with the voter is this: We’ll give you The Great Society (bread, circuses, and foreign enemies), and, while you are otherwise occupied, we will provide representation to our true constituents (banks, the war machine, and big business).