America released a collective gasp last week with the grisly report of 24-year-old animal trainer Dianne Hanson’s mauling death at the paws of 350 lb. Cous Cous, a Northern California sanctuary lion. No doubt, that reaction was followed by millions shrugging their shoulders and sadly muttering, “Well, it is a wild animal…”. In other words, the feline, regrettably, behaved as expected of savage big cats
I recalled this tragedy recently when I heard the New Hampshire House of Representatives is eye-balling a dramatic increase in the state’s gasoline tax. While the Granite State’s gas prices, as in the rest of the nation, are inexcusably high, they stand out, comparatively, as lower than most of the Northeast. The state’s at-the-pump levy hasn’t been hiked since the early 1990’s, which most commuters consider a good thing. So, of course, the politicians can’t abide it.
Was the time New Hampshire distinguished itself as a bit of a common-sense redoubt amidst a churning sea of New England, lefty lunacy – “Live Free or Die” and all that. But that seems like a long time ago. It’s been fading since the state has been saddled for years now with a nearly-unbroken, revolving cast of Democratic governors and deepening RINO (Republican in Name Only) presence.
November past, it officially ceded control of its lower legislative chamber to the party of big-governemnt-tax-and-spending. Readers with an operating cerebrum know where this story is going. Democrats and noodle-spined/noodle-headed GOP reps have hijacked NH’s law-making apparatus — and they are co-operatively playing to type (or stereotype): raise taxes, heighten state capitol activity, squeeze more from income-earning Granite-Staters, spend more “serving” them.
We’re talking about statist politicians, after all; Democrats or their compliant colleagues across-the-aisle simply doing what their species are compelled to do.
The difference in this case is no shoulder-shrugging reaction can be justified: none of these elected officials, remember, are mere, instinct-driven jungle beasts. They are sentient human beings capable of making informed choices; if they are willing.
I’m reminded of another anecdote: the scorpion who wheedlingly talks a frog into allowing him to hitch a ride on his back across a swollen river. Halfway to the opposite shore, the venomous arthropod stings the hospitable amphibian, sealing their mutual dooms. “Why did you do that?” pleads the mystified froggy as they are both sinking. “I couldn’t help it,” answers the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”