The Parable of My Cousin’s Meth Lab

Minus the entertaining sales pitch, wagon, and tangible product, Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid are the modern-day equivalent of traveling snake oil salesmen. After all, the stimulus package is a panacea that, while at a bargain price, is unlikely to fix the economy or, at the very least, clear up your Herpes in time for Spring Break.

It’s been on my mind quite a bit (the stimulus package, not your Herpes) and I realized it’s just like my cousin’s crystal meth lab.

We have some winners in the family, but when we lose, we lose big time. That would be the case of my cousin Mike. (It is generally agreed I lie somewhere between total crap and mediocre.)

Mike the mental giant and his brother-in-law borrowed my grandfather’s RV to go fishing at the lake. My 80-something-year old grandfather found it odd they didn’t take any fishing gear. Ignorance is bliss and as long as they brought it back with a full tank, he didn’t care.

These budding entrepreneurs had been supplying the county with enough meth to fuel a decade’s worth of Richard Simmons “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” marathons….allegedly, of course.

Their recipe for meth included minor explosions and setting the RV on fire. For fear of adding another page to his police wrap, Mike fled the RV before the police showed, leaving his injured brother-in-law to die (makes for awkward family gatherings). When the fuzz arrived, they found the RV in flames and the evidence “all burned up,” as we say in the hood.

At the end of the day, grandfather was out an expensive RV, no one could prove or disprove a darn thing, and my cousin got away scot free.

I’m anticipating the Left will declare the “success” of the stimulus package as loudly as my cousin declared his innocence. I just hope America realizes there’s no fishing gear before the mid-term elections.