My excellent adventure at my neocon congressman's office

Capn Sunshine

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Wed Apr-13-05 09:25 PM
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My excellent adventure at my neocon congressman's office

Well I just drove over to the local office of Rep. Gallegly here in
Westlake Village. It's in a newer building, definitely AA or AAA-,
among the highest rents in the area. Nice digs. The office itself is
spacious, with a wall of windows and a view that takes in our local
mountains beyond the 101. I know and have clients in this building.
All of them are quite affluent.

No one is at the front desk, but a nicely turned out older blonde
woman, the kind you expect to see in these parts, at maybe a wine
tasting or the local Country Club, immediately approaches me
asking, "may I help you?", and her air gives me the impression she
isn't a receptionist. She's Paula Sheil, District Director. I
identify myself and tell her I've spoken to Pam Roller, her office
scheduler who is in D.C., about scheduling a meeting with us. "For
what?" she asks, eyeing my card (California For Democracy, Southern
Ca Council , Group leader, Democracy for America, et al) warily.

"I wanted to meet with a member of your staff so that we may express
our views to the congressman on Social Security" I tell her. "It's a
National Dialog Day for us and I wanted to inform the congressman
about the concerns of some of his constituency". "Oh", she
said. "Like what?" I proceed to tell her we want the congressman to be aware of our concern with the president's expenditures on his roadshow, how it's not really open to the public, how people are screened and removed from these events...."you mean for screaming and throwing things, causing a disturbance, like that?" asks Paula. "No. For attending." I go on " members of our group have been removed from these meetings, making the claim of open town hall very questionable". Paula furrows her brow, and asks" what was it you wished to say with your group?"

Back at square one, I tell her about the lack of crisis in Social
Security, how it's fine as is until 2032, that the whole issue could
be solved by just raising the payroll exclusion ceiling from $90,000
to 190,000, that the President's proposals do nothing to solve this,
and in fact add several trillion dollars of expense to the tab.
Apparently this is the first time she has heard any of this. She
responds " well, I guess there's some disagreement about that. The
president claims it will be broke before that, so I suppose it's
which numbers you believe." She adds that kids call her office every
day, requesting that they have a say in their retirement
planning. "Now, what do you want to talk about with your group?" I
look her into her steely blue eyes. "I wanted to talk about Social
Security. To express the concerns of some of your constituents". "Well, haven't we just done that?" She folds her
hands.

"Well, you and I have done that but there are others in my group who
wish to express themselves tomorrow" She looks up, returning my
gaze. " I don't know if you understand. We help out specific people
with individual problems here. When I saw you I thought maybe you had
a problem with medicare or something. We aren't a political
office." "I appreciate that", I say," but these folks want to know
someone is listening." " What group are you folks? You're not
MoveOn, are you? They are simply awful, they came up here and one of
them peed in my sink, then the girl, a scruffy hippie type, she put
her dirty feet on my desk, and it turned out she had illegal drugs
in her purse, and they ended up being arrested. When that guy took
out his penis and peed in my sink, I told him "that's it, you're
under arrest" and they ended up spending three days in jail"
Taken aback by this apocryphal tale , I can only say "Really? Peed
in your sink? What were they here for in the first place? Antiwar?
She slowly shakes her head. "They think I don't know who they are, they all call here and read from the same script, I ask them "are you with Moveon?" and they say no but I know they are. It's the same script. Are you with MoveOn?" "No" I say. "We are a political group, and I know MoveOn , but I've never heard about the incident you described. When was this? Peed in your sink?" I can't help myself. This is a very genteel community, and that is the raddest thing I've heardhappening around here in...well, like EVER...I assure her we justwant to talk , and she reiterates that "we're not a political
office" and wonders did I think this was like an outing or a dressup picnic or somesuch. I offer to bring her lunch.

Just then, a skinny, intense guy, the kind you'd see at the Honda dealership selling you undercoating you don't need, hawkish features that give him a semi-intense leaning into the wind look, steps up. Paula says , "oh hi Brad, this is Mike Hickerson," gesturing my way. I wait for him to extend his hand. He does not. So I remain seated. "Mike Hickerson" he says without pausing, "longtime Democratic political activist since the sixties. You're not here for any meeting. You just want to cause trouble" I Googled your name. I know who you are. You're bringing the press tomorrow! You work for Howard Dean!" He say Gov. Dean's name like you would expect one to say, oh, "Jeffrey Dahmer." "What??" says Paula querulously. "Howard Dean? He's a screaming lunatic! Oh, Mike, I thought you were so nice..." " Yes, Howard Dean", says Brad or Tom or whatever his name is. "He just wants to cause trouble. He wants to embarrass the President" "He's a screaming maniac" repeats Paula, like it's a monastery chant. "Look", I say, "I don't appreciate your characterization of this as a political event" "Well, what is it for then? You've invited the press." "I'm ambivalent about that" I tell him. "I don't know that they will find this newsworthy" "You mean", says Brad, " you don't know if they'll come." "Yeah. Besides, do you not want the press here?" "You just want to cause trouble, and embarrass the President." He repeats this several times. "You're not interested in Social Security. You're partisan." "What part of Social Security is partisan?" I ask, raising my voice to meet his level." That's all we want to discuss" "Youre not an interest group. Howard Dean is the head of the ...?" He waits for me to finish his sentence for him. "Democratic National Committee" I say. "SEE?" He says triumphantly.

"We're not a political office" says Paula. I don't want a bunch of
MoveOn crazies up here. Besides, you've expressed what you have to
say. Your group must understand this isn't a dressup and go out
field trip picnic thing. You should put your concerns in writing,
then we will pass them on to the congressman." "I'll be happy to put
them in writing" I tell her "and if the press is a concern, we'll
leave them downstairs, hows that?" "We aren't a political office
here." "I can see that. I'll put our concerns in writing and we'll plan on delivering that to you tomorrow. See you then, and thank you for taking the time today, Sheila" Skinny guy has left as abruptly as he entered. Just as well.

Thus, the dress rehearsal for the Social Security dialog ends.
Threatened with arrest, insulted, and the leader of our party called
a "screaming lunatic ".
Your tax dollars in action.
I'm glad they were expecting me.