I listened to most of Paul Ryan's "maiden" speakership speech, and I'm tempted to be harsh in regard to its democratic mush; its sappy, humble odes to the little people, who wish only virtue in their reps. But I shan't be harsh, for such is the argumentum ad pabulum required of every member of the United States House of Representatives, or anyone else who seeks to pacify the monkey cage.
What irks is the man, himself, who prattled it. Lurking in Ryan's ode was, of course, oodles of Ayn Randism that is intent on sociopathically inflicting as much injury on The People as The People's House can possibly inflict. In terms of what we might call an "outsider" ideology, it's as legitimate as most other ideologies; it is simple-minded, it is all-encompassing, and it's all-answering. I begrudge no ideologue his or her intellectual fantasies. As a socialist, I hold a fair share myself.
But for such ideological sociopathy to come from an insider — that is what maddens. Except for a few youthful gigs such as driving the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile and flipping grilled toxicities at McDonald's, Paul Ryan has drawn nary a private paycheck in his life. He has been at the public trough, year after year, slopping up as many big-government godsends as his oblivious soul could absorb.
What Ryan would deny others, he lavishes upon himself. But you know what? Ryan seems so friggin' oblivious, I wonder if he can appreciate just what a hypocritical toad he really is. Like all designing ideologues, he imagines, I suppose, that he's on a sublime mission, that he's doing some sort of God's work. That six-figure government income, government perks, government benefits, government travel and a doting government staff? Hey, he didn't ask for all that. It just comes with the job, and so he suffers it.
OK, so I got a bit harsh; but, as promised, not about his maiden speech.