Spring And New Politicians
Spring was coming and Harold decided to plant politicians in his garden. He was unhappy with the current crop of politicians—he wanted to grow better ones. He had new seed packets: conservative and liberal. As he planted the seeds, each in their own row, he was impressed with how they looked like little brains.
They would grow only in soil rich with manure. They preferred human manure but that was not easily available, so Harold relied on cows. Instead of water, they needed urine, so he drank a lot of water. Direct sunlight depressed them, so he covered the area overhead with a very large copy of his nation’s flag.
Sprouts soon appeared, pushing through the manure, spreading roots. Their stalks grow, then branches, and, after a month, Harold saw tiny hands develop at the ends of the branches, and tiny heads appear at the tops of the stalks. The little fingers spread, reaching out into the air, grasping. Harold then began playing political podcasts for his plants. He played liberal podcasts to the conservative plants, conservative podcasts to the liberals. Their tiny faces had confused looks.
Within three months, Harold’s politicians were mostly five feet tall. They now had faces, hair, arms and legs, their feet still rooted in the manure. Their eyes followed Harold, and they listened carefully as he spoke to them. He spoke about how extreme views were confusing, that compromise was needed. He harvested them after six months. Midterm elections were coming up. Harold sent them out on the campaign trail.
Voters like their look, and how instead of political doublespeak they spoke honestly about how confusing they found current politics, and that central ground had to be sought. They were all elected. Harold watched as the Government was plunged into confusion, extremes wavering, his plants leading a push towards compromise. Soon Government shutdowns were history and politicians were not calling each other schoolyard names.
Harold looked forward to next Spring.