I've been "serving" the great state of Montana in the U.S. Senate
since 1978. You'll notice I put "serving" in quotes, because, let's
face it, I suck. My wife has been pleading with me not to say this
publicly, insisting that it's not true, that I'm a capable and
dedicated public servant, blah, blah, blah. Bless her dear heart, but
she's just being nice. Because, folks, I am telling you, I am
hands-down the shittiest senator in the history of the Senate. The worst.
The other day, I was in my office, thumbing through some old pieces
of legislation I'd either authored or co-sponsored. The whole time, I
was thinking, "Christ, what a hack I am." Take my 1993 masterwork,
S.915, the Semiconductor Investment Act. Section 2a of the bill states,
"IN GENERAL–Section 168(e)(3)(A) of the Internal Revenue Code of 1986
(relating to three-year property) is amended by striking 'and' at the
end of clause (i), by striking the period at the end of clause (ii),
and by inserting at the end the following: '(iii) any semiconductor
What the hell is that shit? As I recall, it had something to do with
semiconductor manufacturing equipment. But you'd never know, what with
the way I buried its meaning under a tidal wave of
I-know-all-the-fancy-schmancy-bill-writing lingo. I was trying to look
like Mr. Big Shot, but little did I know what a conceited ass I came
off as. When the bill was pitched, Sen. Bob Packwood (R-OR) was nice
enough to say some introductory words of support on the floor. But now
I think he was just embarrassed for me and wanted to help a fellow
senator save face, however little I deserved it. I forget what happened
to that bill. Hopefully, it died without ever coming to a vote.
There's a huge stack of old bills in my office, each containing tons
of that sort of hackwork. I'm tempted to burn down the entire Hart
Office Building and cleanse the planet of every physical trace of my
senatorial presence. But, no, that wouldn't do any good, because every
facet, every aspect of my incredible suckiness is piledriven into the
memories of those I so ineptly represent.
God. God. I am so, so, so sorry, folks.
Here's another stupid-ass thing I did. Every Wednesday, when the
Senate is in session, I invite Montanans who happen to be in Washington
to stop by my office to enjoy an informal breakfast with my staff and
myself. It's a way for me to keep abreast of the needs of my
constituents. A neat idea, right? Well, it would be, if I weren't
actually there, fucking things up.
Anyway, one morning, this very nice woman named Shirley Besser, who
is from my hometown of Helena, stopped by while vacationing in D.C. She
wanted to know why I supported permanent normal trade relations with
China, given its oppressive government and history of human-rights
violations. I thought this was a good question, and I started to say,
"Well, Sheila..." But, before I could say another word, she interrupted
to point out that her name was Shirley. Stupid, son-of-a-bitch, no-listening-skills senator.
She had just told me her name a second ago, and here I was, already
forgetting it! I apologized profusely, but she just smiled politely and
said it was okay. It wasn't.
Whether ladling too much stew onto the tray of a homeless person at
a Missoula soup kitchen or making repeated mixed metaphors during a
speech praising the efforts of those who fought Western wildfires last
summer, I can't imagine why the people of Montana continue to put up
with my crap.
I should just quit. Actually, I should have quit a long time ago.
But I never did, because the people kept insisting I run for another
term. I've been re-elected three times, and every time I am, I get the
notion that maybe, if I made a real conscious effort, I could stop
being such a lousy legislator.
I sometimes make an effort, but every time I do, before I know it,
I've made another inexcusable flub like mentioning, during an
appearance on Montana Politics Today, that the Gallatin Land
Consolidation Act Of 1998 was introduced during the 104th Congress
instead of the 105th. Christ on a crutch!
No, don't try to talk me out of it. I'm definitely quitting this
time. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself once I leave the
Senate, though. I can't go back to Montana, that's for sure. Facing all
those constituents I failed so badly day after day, year after year? I
don't think so. Maybe I'll go to Maine instead. No one knows me there.
Set up a small law practice, hang my shingle, buy a quaint little
saltbox on the outskirts of Bangor. Of course, I'm sure I'd somehow
manage to fuck up everything there, too. What the hell was I thinking?
God, I'm such a bonehead. I should go live in a cave somewhere,
someplace far away from all humanity where I can't poison everything I
So, people from the great state of Montana, forget you ever even
heard the name Max Baucus. Max Baucus... more like Trash... Ruckus.
I can't even pun well.