It Takes a Pillage - The American Spectator | USA News and Politics
It Takes a Pillage
by

John sells his soul to the Devil. The price is fifty thousand dollars a week for the next four weeks. The first week the Devil shows up two days late and John complains.

The response is flippant.  “Hey, I’m the Devil.  I don’t do punctuality.”

The second week he shows up with only forty-nine thousand and John gets back to griping.  The response:  “I am the Devil.  I don’t do accuracy.”  The third week he comes with cash that is all crumpled and sticky. “I am the Devil. I don’t do cleanliness.”

When the final week rolls around the Devil gets his act together.  He shows up on time with a crisp $100,000 bill.  He hands it to John and asks for change.

“Sorry,” John replies, pocketing the bill.  “I am a sellout.  I don’t do honesty.”

Poor Devil, his technique is so outdated.  He needs to learn from the real masters, the Clintons. Listen closely to the defense offered up by Hillary for all the cash swallowed up by the family “foundation” and you will see how souls can be corrupted without paying a penny. In fact they will pay you for the honor.

When accused of corruption for accepting all that money, the Hillary campaign sneers.  There is no quid pro quo, her people assert.  Yes, it is true she took money from people and countries needing her help on pending policy and contracts.  But none of them ever received any benefit from those contributions.  In most cases their pet project starved to death in the corner of its cage, little toes curled heavenward as it lay there moribund.  And in the very few instances they got what they wanted, it was not because Hillary put in a good word.  It just worked out that way.

Now let us take a moment to absorb the enormity of this audacity.  In essence the Clintons are conceding that obviously the reason these shady characters gave them money when there were deals pending is that they thought that would buy them intervention by the Clintons on their behalf. Except that the Clintons not only took the cash, they ripped the givers off a second time by not really helping them at all.

In other words, we are not guilty of the crime of taking bribes because actually… we defrauded the people who gave us that money! Not graft, just a grift. Not payola, just Shinola. We are not crooked politicians, we are only political crooks.

A good parallel would be the Drug Enforcement Agency and local police collaborating on a huge drug bust, catching the criminal gang in the act of selling a large quantity of cocaine for a large sum of money.  Once the sellers are behind closed doors in the police station, they admit their scam. This stuff is not really cocaine, it is powdered sugar. Now you cannot arrest us for selling narcotics because we were actually delivering a legal substance.  Nor can you arrest us for fraud because the “victims” were engaged — to the best of their knowledge — in a criminal enterprise and are not entitled to the protection of the law.

So the Clintons have accomplished what was heretofore deemed impossible.  They have outdone the devil. People pay money to “sell” their souls to “buy” favors and they wind up penniless and soulless and out of favor.

There is only one way to conclude this meditation as we try to reclaim the souls of our nation from the grubby fingers of these schemers.  We return to The Devil and Daniel Webster by Stephen Vincent Benet, as he describes the oratory by which Senator Daniel Webster convinced the jury the Devil had no claim on the American farmer’s soul, despite the sins committed against Indians and African slaves in the past.

He started off in a low voice, though you could hear every word. They say he could call on the harps of the blessed when he chose. And this was just as simple and easy as a man could talk. But he didn’t start out by condemning or reviling. He was talking about the things that make a country a country, and a man a man.

And he began with the simple things that everybody’s known and felt—the freshness of a fine morning when you’re young, and the taste of food when you’re hungry, and the new day that’s every day when you’re a child. He took them up and he turned them in his hands. They were good things for any man. But without freedom, they sickened. And when he talked of those enslaved, and the sorrows of slavery, his voice got like a big bell. He talked of the early days of America and the men who had made those days. It wasn’t a spread-eagle speech, but he made you see it. He admitted all the wrong that had ever been done. But he showed how, out of the wrong and the right, the suffering and the starvations, something new had come. And everybody had played a part in it, even the traitors.

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