This post is about impeachment. But, first, you need to hear about a toy bird from the 1970s.
When I was seven or eight, I just had to have a Zorr: The Mighty Eagle.
Zorr could soar on the wind for hours, just like a real eagle. The TV commercials left me certain that Zorr would make the most popular kid on my block—maybe the whole parish. I'd have a pet eagle, really. A pet eagle that's better than a real eagle, because it wouldn't crap all over the house or fly off with the neighbor's Yorkie clutched in its vice-like talons.
My parents were more practical than I was. But, at the time, I thought they were unimaginative and uncaring. “You'll get tired of it in fifteen minutes,” my mom told me when I broached the subject. “Besides, we live in the city. You don't have any place to fly it.”
Dumb I thought. We live next door to a vacant lot that's 200 by 50 feet.
“I'll get you a kite,” my dad told me. “That stupid bird is twenty dollars.”
But I wouldn't relent. I just had to have a Zorr: The Mighty Eagle so that other kids would like me. John Godfrey will be jealous I thought.
Being the youngest child and the only boy, though, my parents finally gave in. For my birthday that year.
I knew what it was by the shape of the package. I ripped open the wrapping paper and felt my heart skip a beat as the image of that proud bird emerged. Unfortunately, this was seven o'clock, and it was already getting dark. I'd have to wait until the next day to fly it.
But I have no patience or impulse control.
I carefully removed the parts from the box. Styrofoam wings and body and tail. Plastic talons. A tailhook device made of yellow platic. And a spool of kite string. For twenty dollars.
I assembled the bird without so much as a glance at the eight-page assembly instruction book. I only read about how to fly Zorr. Then, I decided to give my mighty eagle a test flight in the house.
I placed Zorr in the middle of the living room and paid out about six feet of line. I yelled for everyone to get out of the way. My flight plan involved running through the living room, into the dining room, making a sharp bank to the right into the kitchen, then a mad dash straight to the front door.
My only concern was that the insanely aerodynamic bird would gain altitude too quickly and crash into the ceiling. I would have to watch my speed closely.
“Three, two, one, lift off!” I yelled as my little Keds sneakers tore a path out of the living room into the dining room. I looked back with price to see my Mighty Eagle jerk into the air just like a real eagle.
I felt my heart stop when the bird's starboard wing clipped the door jamb between the living room and dining room. Two-thirds of the wing remained attached. The other third ripped away and fluttered to the carpet.
I don't remember crying, but I'm sure I did.
My dad tried to tape the broken wing, then balance the weight by taping the other wing. But the designers didn't account for the weight of the tape.
I'm sure my parents thought, “we told you not to ask for that stupid bird,” but they only consoled me.
The next day was brilliant and sunny and dry. A perfect day for Zorr to soar for hours above Scanlan Avenue in south St. Louis. But I didn't even take it outside.
When my mom asked me “why don't you go fly your bird,” I just said, “maybe later.”
I don't remember what I did the rest of October 6, but I know I didn't touch that stupid, twenty-dollar chunk of compromised styrofoam. I do remember feeling bad that my dad had paid all that money for a useless toy. And I hoped no one would ever mention Zorr again.
Which is how Nancy Pelosi and a lot of Democrats feel today.
Disappointing Political Stunts
At a press conference just hours after passing two articles of impeachment of the President of the United States, Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House and leader of the Democrat Party refused to answer questions about impeachment.
I feel her pain.
For three years, the Democrats have dreamed of impeaching Donald J. Trump. They lay awake at night, too giddy to sleep as visions of “ayes have it” danced in their heads. They imagined how popular their impeachment would make them with all the cool kids. And how jealous those nasty Republicans would be.
And, then, they got their wish.
And it crashed.
And it turns out impeachment is nothing like what it was advertised to be. And, making it worse, they tried to fly it too soon and in the wrong place and damaged it before they really got a chance to use it.
So the Democrats got what they asked for, but it only made them feel worse.
You should listen to your parents.