Politics are a lot like trains. The Democrat and Republican trains are pulled by sleek and powerful engines fueled by political action committee (PAC) money. In the dark of night about 20 years ago the Democrat train hitched to the rear of the Republican train. Now there’s just the Republicrat train with the Republican engine pulling and the Democrat engine pushing the cars down the track.
Just behind the Republicrat engine at the head of the train is the club car. It’s hard to miss with all of its polished stainless steel, chrome, and glass. There’s a lot of smoke, but not much fire in this car, as it’s the domicile of the old white men of both former parties, the domain of the corporate aristocracy—the wealthiest 10% that own 90% of the country’s wealth.
Behind the club car are a lot of coach-class sleeper cars. This is the middle 60% that believe that if they work harder or catch a break they can take their rightful place in the club car. Of course, the dirty secret is that this never happens; those already in the club car have no intention of letting any of the riff-raff—that is to say, anyone not already among them—though the door. About half of these sleeper cars are comfortably well appointed and about half are tattered and worn around the edges but comfortable nonetheless.
Behind the sleeper cars are the boxcars holding the bottom 25% of the populace. Spartan and bare, these cars are crowded. Because the side doors of these cars are wide open, quite a few passengers are lost as the train pitches from side to side. Smarter boxcar passengers have learned to lean to the left as the train usually lurches to the right.
At the end of the train is the caboose containing a 5% amalgamation of what remains of the free-thinking left. While the rest of the formerly Democratic train was listing hard to the right, the caboose was seeking to balance the whole with a concerted push to the left. This against-the-grain behavior was not appreciated by those in the club car. It didn’t really have enough of an impact to affect the smoothness of their ride, but it did manage to slosh a little of the fine wine in the club-car’s hand-cut crystal goblets that were filled to overflowing.