58
The hearing room of the senate judicial committee was crowded with so-called experts who had been invited to speak, and with generally cooperative reporters on whom the government knew it could rely for calmly supporting the government’s position.
“Sir, the United States can no longer coddle criminals bearing bombs into our buildings. Even churches have been their targets. The public is demanding action from us,” said the witness.
The man’s name was Peter Williams, and he was a paid shill sent there to support the bill’s sponsors.
“Mr. Williams, you speak of demands from the public. What do you mean by that phrase?” asked Senator Jayson Harrington, the chairman of the judiciary committee.
“Polls taken by Rassmussen and other public relations agencies have indicated a seventy percent favorability rating for the Constitutional Preservation Act, Mr. Chairman.”
“Well, Mr. Williams, I’ve seen a lot of polls. Being a senator, I’d guess I’ve seen ten thousand of them if I’ve seen one of them. The thing that is obvious about them is that the people taking them are biased on one side of the issue. Aren’t all polls tainted, Mr. Williams?”
“We live in an imperfect world, Mr. Senator. Sometimes the questions asked are phrased in particular ways that predetermine in some respects the answers that are either anticipated or desired or both.”
“Exactly. So what are we talking about in this Rassmussen Poll?”
“I am not certain, sir. I wasn’t there when the poll was administered nor was I present when it was developed.”
“Yet, you must think that this poll is important.”
“Yes. I do think its important.”
“What about the possibility that his poll is tainted in some way by its handlers?” Senator Harrington asked.
“Again, Senator, we live in an imperfect world. Everything we see is projected through an uncertain and roughly ground lens. No matter how hard we try to be perfectly fair all of our efforts may still fall short of perfection. However, this does not mean that all polls are without their benefits.”
“Well, the only poll I believe in are the ones that appear on election day.”
“Some say that even election findings are false, senator. I’m sure you’ve heard the complaints.”
“Indeed. We’ve all heard the complaints. Those on the winning side tend to feel the electorate has spoken and done so with infinite wisdom when the votes are being counted. The losers, on the other hand, sometimes state that the elections have been rigged. What’s interesting, Mr. Williams, is the the winners have never claimed they rigged a single election. So, where is the real truth? Were they rigged and unfair? Were the counters in back rooms really criminals who participated in a mockery of our democracy? Or are the people doing the complaining just bloviating? It’s an interesting question that most of the people on either side of me have pondered many times over the years. And, Mr. Williams, none of us knows. We don’t do the counting. But, as far as I know, the counting is at least partly fair and partly unfair. Like most things, the practice of a perfect scenario is always flawed by the weakest links embedded in the system into which it has been forcefully inserted.”
“All of us live in cynical times, senator. Not everyone is going to believe everything they hear, and, if they did we might have to send them to an institution where they could be carefully observed. I would surmise that those doing the observing might be searching in vain for the mental aberrations from whence they could well be suffering,” Williams answered. “That’s precisely why I keep an open mind on almost everything.”
The room laughed nervously.
“I, too, keep an open mind, Mr. Williams. I don’t want to be in an institution any more than you. But what bothers me is that we live in a world of opinions. Such a world is a world of confusion to be exact. Everything we see merely exists in the fog of our perceptions. Every day, when we open our eyes to the sun, we enter into a new war for our minds. Shells are going off everywhere. The shells are silent and cannot be heard or seen, and the ideals being given to us on television are warped and frozen in time. If we could Stone the invisible veil behind those ideas and ideals being piped into our eyes and ears, I think we might easily perceive that almost all of them are warped and distorted by their inventors and providers. Our best defense against such things might be our constant wariness. Carried to the extreme I would guess the best way to remain mentally clear of these aberrations might be to remove the televisions from our homes. Skepticism and social withdrawal from propaganda, Mr. Williams, is America’s best defense against being manipulated by its best and highest paid liars. It’s also your best defense.”
“Yes, sir. I’d agree with that.”
“You are very perceptive, Mr. Williams. I’d like to thank you for answering our questions, and I hope you will return in the future if we ask you.”
“I would certainly be pleased to meet with the committee at any time of its liking. I enjoyed most of my visit, although there were a few moments that, at the time felt as anguished and as painful as child birth as told to me constantly by my wife.”
The audience laughed.
“Most enjoyable to hear from you, sir,” said Senator Harrington. “Say hello to your charming family.”
“Thank you, senators, for inviting me.”
Mr. Williams got up and left the room. His reception had been good for the most part, but the skeptics, as always, had been there like cats waiting to pounce upon him with their claws which they had purposely extended to tear him apart. That was always the way these hearings seemed to be carried out. It might even be that they would always be like this. The world, as Harold Williams knew it, was uncertain, keenly beautiful, yet foul. Life was confusing. Some people were even more so. Opinions, as he well knew, were like assholes. Everyone had one which made the world malodorous and dangerous at best.
That made sense, because his mama used to tell him, prairie pies inside the State of Kansas would always be a dime a dozen, because there were so many of them.
Harrington knew that very few things in this world ever changed.