The Major

Major Nathaniel Peabody (USA, ret.) looked a bit peaked. I inquired of his health and was surprised by his answer. “I suffer from an allergy,” he said. “It is particularly debilitating, and at times I am barely able to withstand its attacks.”
    “Good heavens, Major,” I exclaimed. “I didn’t know. Have you sought medical attention? What does Doctor Carmichael say?”
    “On occasion I have discussed it with the good doctor,” the Major replied. “He always advises me to take two aspirins and call him in the morning. It’s his way of saying the medical profession is unable to help me. I can do nothing to alleviate my affliction. Novembers are trying months for me, and this year has been exceedingly difficult. The attack has nearly done me in.”
    “Fall is a bad time for allergies,” I said. “What kind do you have? Is it corn smut? Goldenrod? Some kind of pollen? I certainly hope it isn’t dog hair or bird feathers or gunpowder.”
    “Oh, no,” Peabody answered. “Bird hunting gives me my only real relief. It helps take my mind off of what has become my terrible annual affliction. Unfortunately, the relief is only temporary.”
    This was indeed disturbing. “Just what causes your discomfort?” I said.
    As soon as Peabody began to answer, I realized I shouldn’t have asked. “I am allergic to horse manure,” he said. I knew I was in for a lecture.
    “When it comes time for the citizenry of this grand republic to exercise its sacred duty to determine the character of its government,” he continued, “the powerful and ubiquitous odor of horse manure—propagated not by horses but by candidates for office—fills the air. Its potency can be determined by multiplying the number of candidates by the total amount of money expended on their behalf, by the number of their acolytes speaking for them on television, and by the number of self-proclaimed media pundits who insist on getting into the act.
    “Given the pervasive deceit of office seekers when coupled with my allergic reaction to horse manure, you may be able to appreciate the great discomfort I feel whenever an election season is upon us. This year it has been particularly bad. I’ve suffered mightily and have felt nearly overwhelming pain. Listening to the political speeches and comments and analyses has made my eyes water to such an extent that, at times, it has become nearly impossible for me to see. Just last week I missed a ruffed grouse as a result.
    “Politicians will use any scare tactic if they think it will fool the electorate into pushing them into public office and protecting them from their greatest fear: having to seek out honest labor. Historically, some defeated politicians have been given positions like ambassadorships or some other jobs that require them to leave the United States. Others have been given jobs as presidents of universities. This does not unduly harm students, since the quality of the educational system is so poor that even politicians can do little to cause additional injury.
    “Regardless of what that scoundrel Tweedledee tells you about what that scoundrel Tweedledum would do if he were elected to Congress, no one is going to cast a vote in favor of a bill that might take away so much as even a marginal benefit from the recipients of Social Security. Rowe v. Wade has been the law of the land for more than 20 years, and the plain fact is that about a half-dozen Supreme Court justices have been replaced and the court has not overturned it. Rowe v. Wade will not be overturned.
    “Con artists who have mastered the ability to adopt a phony look of sincerity and emotionally declaim that ‘they care’ or that they are going to change Washington are particularly offensive. They will promise anything to everybody. A politician’s promise and the truth are sworn enemies. I take solace in the fact that politicians usually have no intention of performing on their promises.
    “The peril we face lies not in the mere fact of their election to office. In spite of their false promises, some of them may actually try to pass laws supporting the insane positions they have espoused. Here’s an example: There are a number of politicians whose constituents—mostly city people who have never worn out a pair of boots in their lives—would like to see gun control legislation. Recently, the politicians misread the polls when they tried to push an anti-gun measure through Congress. Enough hunters and people with common sense went to the polls and threw a bunch of them out of office. Since then they’ve been quiet, but they’re still out there. Thank God for the NRA.”
    I raised an eyebrow when the Major added: “And thank God for lobbyists.” He saw my look and slowly shook his head as I began to object. I was able to say “Bribery . . . ,” before Peabody stopped me.
    “Would a law outlawing lobbyists make Congressmen honest?” he said. He didn’t expect an answer. He continued: “For every man who offers a bribe, there is a man who will take it. For every man who demands a bribe, there is a man who will pay it. Tell me: Who is to be blamed for bribery—the lobbyist who offers one or the politician who takes it?”
    I wasn’t able to answer.
    “Yes, thank God for lobbyists,” Peabody repeated. “If it weren’t for them, who else would undertake the monumental task of trying to educate politicians? That man you elected to Congress—what does he know about how the economy operates? Or about foreign trade? Or about the world’s new communication systems? Or about national security? Left on his own, he’d pass legislation screwing up the works beyond all recall. The lobbyists’ attempts to educate him often keep him from passing some stupid law.
    “Luckily, most of our legislators are wimps who seldom make any kind of decision unless they are convinced it will further their reelection efforts. Once elected—assuming they avoid the risks of thinking—politicians can look forward to a lifetime of squandering taxpayers’ money. If they keep their fingers on the polls, it is very hard to throw them out of office.
    “Obviously, insanity is no cause for failure to reelect them. Committing some morally reprehensible act—or rather, being caught at committing some morally reprehensible act—might be enough to do the job. I say ‘might’ because, given a properly crafted campaign, the electorate can be led to approve and applaud such acts.”
    “Oh, come now, Major,” I said. “There are elements of truth in what you say, but don’t you think you are overstating your case? Surely not all politicians are of that cast.”
    The Major became pensive. He stared as his Scotch & soda and then admitted: “Of course you are correct. There are 435 elected politicians in the House of Representatives alone. Not all of them are frauds and demagogues. Perhaps as many as . . .” he thought for a moment, “. . . 10 of them—oh, give them the benefit of the doubt and say 15—could be accused of honesty.”
    “Then I presume you are not going to vote come Election Day?” I said.
    “Of course I’m going to vote,” Peabody said. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to exercise my franchise. I’ll vote against the candidates who worry me the most. And when the votes are counted and the winners are announced, I’ll feel like I’ve given birth to a set of broken dishes. I won’t be satisfied with the results, but I’ll be glad it’s all over.
    “And my allergic reactions will quickly disappear.”

Galen Winter’s favorite Major stories have been collected and anthologized in The Best of the Major, available for $25 (plus shipping) from 800-685-7962; www.shootingsportsman.com.