Last issue, BEAST Editor Al Uthman penned an editorial which, among other things, suggested that Tom Reynolds may have been dishonest in his attack on Millionaire Jack Davis, since Reynolds himself is probably a millionaire.
How cynical! I thought while reading Uthman’s piece. After all, how could Reynolds attack guys like Millionaire Jack Davis who have over a million dollars, if he himself was one? It just didn’t make sense. Besides, how could Reynolds be a millionaire when he has already spent over two million dollars to pay for negative ads that accuse millionaire Jack Davis of running negative ads?
I determined that Reynolds’ ads must be a cry for help. In decrying his fat cat challenger’s wealth, Reynolds was publicly lamenting his own abject poverty in the only way his touching pride would allow. That must be it; otherwise he’d just be a big, shameless hypocrite. I imagined the congressman sweating and toiling away, just busting his hump to keep his job and put food on the table. My heart went out to him. Nobody likes to watch someone starve, even a Republican.
How could such a plight befall an esteemed leader such as Reynolds? I wondered. Why was nobody helping him? And then I thought of those famous words of President Reagan: “If not us, who? If not now, when?” Too often we look to others to fix problems, never recognizing our own inaction. No more. I decided it was up to me to help the obviously destitute Reynolds.
To this end, BEAST art director Ian Murphy and I established the Relief for Reynolds Foundation ®, an un-registered grass roots non-profit organization which would gather non-perishable foods from the 26th district and donate them to Reynolds’ office. Ian contacted the local TV news networks with a press release for their tip lines, but none of them seemed very interested in our charity work. No matter; we still had to do what was right.
We canvassed about 25 houses in an affluent neighborhood, asking citizens to pitch in and make sure our political representative could have a nice, warm meal during this campaign season. Rejection was the standard at first. With each “No, thanks… get off my lawn” our sad stares and pious pleas went on a little longer. We expected voter apathy, but we weren’t prepared for the hostility and skepticism we encountered at some households. About a third of the people we spoke with seemed to think it was some sort of joke! One particularly skeptical man called us “fools,” adding that we “need to read more.” Most of the rest didn’t seem to want to be bothered at home, even for an honest, charitable cause like Relief for Reynolds. On their eternal souls it would be. We pondered the disinterest and outright antipathy of those we had spoken with, but maintained our faith in the cause. Essential aid had to be provided. And, like a sizeable donation to TOMPAC, our faith eventually paid off.
Our earliest donation came from an elderly woman, who initially told us she was “old and lonely” and didn’t have much food. We persisted, explaining the extreme urgency of our mission and that absolutely anything would suffice. Spinach, for example, would be perfectly fine, we told her. At last, she gave in and contributed a couple of cans of Spam. Finally, we felt like real Republicans.
With that, the tide began to turn. We tapped into the reservoir of political sympathy we had been seeking. Oddly, some donors laughed as they gave their Ramen noodles, canned peas, and potato chips to feed their Representative. Maybe there was a funny show on TV all of them had been watching, or perhaps they were just giddy with the joy of giving. Regardless, it was heartwarming to see our crate filled to maximum capacity within hours. We had enough to feed Tom Reynolds for at least a week.
A few days later, we drove to the congressman’s offices at 500 Essjay Rd, Suite 260, Williamsville, and after a fortuitous wrong turn which led to a last-minute corporate contribution from a nearby office, followed the arrows to the proper location.
We were taken aback. The office was ultra-modern and pristine, not at all characteristic of an impoverished non-millionaire. We could only conclude that Reynolds’ pitiful campaign spots must have drawn a similarly charitable response from the rest of his constituency, and there had apparently been a huge, spontaneous grassroots campaign to lift the struggling congressman from the miserable poverty he had endured with dignity until recently. Our philanthropy, it seemed, had been dwarfed by others concerned for Reynolds’ dire financial straits. I consoled myself, remembering that every little bit makes a difference.
There were several small rooms, almost like foyers, that led to the main office door made of glass. One had a portrait of Abraham Lincoln on a backdrop of an American flag. I considered how appropriate it was. Tom Reynolds is like Abraham Lincoln: a poor, self-educated bastion of selflessness, fighting to unite the people under a banner of basic human dignity while suffering the slings and arrows of an egotistical aristocracy—scoundrels like Millionaire Jack “Millionaire” Davis, the millionaire. People like Reynolds and Lincoln deserved a helping hand from those who benefit so tremendously from their presence. And that’s what we were here to provide.
A man in a simple shirt and tie, too humble to give his name, greeted us at the door. It was difficult to determine his age. Like the starving third world peasants I had seen in pictures, he probably looked older than his true age due to the myriad ravages of malnutrition. After we relayed our mission, he called us “cute” with a wink, and respectfully declined. His lips said, “No, no thanks, that’s it, OK? Goodbye!” but his $3 million campaign fund said “Yes, yes, yes!” He shut the door and walked away at a rapid speed, his nobility in sacrifice moving us deeply. We decided to leave our crate of non-perishables in the hallway so as not to further embarrass the poor-but-proud Reynolds camp, just like Jesus would have.
It’s a hard life for the disadvantaged congressman out there, especially with millionaires like Jack Davis trying to destroy your job. But it makes me feel a little better that even if Reynolds joins the ranks of the unemployed come November, at least he’ll have some Spam to keep him going. At least he knows we care. And, if he might look back and think of us while eating those noodles, well that would make it all the sweeter.
*
Atheist Hobos 