What Do the Congress and a Baby Mouse Have in Common?

A mother mouse indwelling on a vineyard nearby must be deeply distressed today. One of her young'uns is not by her side; by a twist of fate, the wee thing has become imprisoned in my room.

For the past four days, I have observed said baby mouse leaping in vain to crawl behind a wall plate that covers phone wires. It cannot wiggle its cute little body under the plate, yet day after day it goes back to that same spot, struggling for naught - hoping that since it can get its paw under the plate, the rest of it can make it too.

There is no way to corner this little thing with a towel or some such item and carry it outdoors. When it senses my presence moving closer, it darts under the bed nearing the speed of light, or worse yet zips into the closet where all my clothing is stored. Most likely, the mouse will either die from starvation in my room or, if liberated, go the way of local predators outdoors.

The mouse demonstrates that definition of insanity: making the same mistake over and over and expecting a different result. In this case, since the mouse has not see a psychiatrist, perhaps it is just dimwitted.

How many members of Congress are like that mouse? 




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