Disclaimer: Warning: this is political profanity with rhythm. Every jab is satire, every punchline aimed at the public hypocrisy currently stinking up the Capitol. No violence, no threats—just words, rage, and the occasional well-placed rhetorical elbow. Read on if you can handle the smell of hypocrisy simmering in taxpayer gravy.

You ever notice how every time the government shuts down, it’s the working stiffs who take the hit while the rich bastards in Congress keep the checks coming?

Air traffic controllers pulling double shifts just to DoorDash dinner, park rangers pawning camping gear, scientists taking side gigs teaching eighth-grade algebra—and Congress? Congress is at home cashing checks and practicing their concerned expressions for cable news.

We’re forty-something days into the longest shutdown in U.S. history, and the House hasn’t voted since September. The Senate’s doing the same damn song-and-dance with their zombie spending bill that can’t pass a sobriety test. But sure—keep telling us it’s “the people’s business.”

Meanwhile, Speaker Mike Johnson’s holding up the swearing-in of Rep-elect Adelita Grijalva, because God forbid democracy interrupt his devotional time. The whole thing’s less a government and more a hostage situation with better stationery.

And the best part? These do-nothing millionaires are still getting paid.

A hundred seventy-four grand a year, minimum, not counting the perks, the healthcare, the gold-plated pensions. Every two weeks, the direct deposit hits like clockwork. “Government’s closed for business,” but the payroll never missed a beat.

Then, as if on cue, here comes Senator John Kennedy—Louisiana’s own cartoon possum in a seersucker suit—announcing two new bills to stop congressional pay during shutdowns. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” he says, like he’s sharing wisdom from a Cracker Barrel placemat.

Buddy, the goose is starving and the gander owns a yacht.

Kennedy’s worth twenty million dollars. If he misses a paycheck, he’ll survive on one less investment property. Half the Senate could lose a month’s salary and not even notice—because half the Senate are millionaires. You want to punish Congress? Don’t withhold their pay. Cancel their stock portfolios. Make them live on minimum wage for a week. Hell, make them apply for SNAP and see how long their patriotism lasts.

And the rest of them—the few not swimming in cash—will be the ones to suffer. The staffers, the junior reps, the people who still think “public service” means serving the public, not themselves. So let’s be clear: Kennedy’s bill isn’t about fairness. It’s about optics. It’s a photo op in a cowboy hat.

Here’s the kicker: even if Congress wanted to stop their pay, the Constitution won’t let them. The 27th Amendment says no pay changes till the next election. So all these grandstanding “for the people” bills are about as enforceable as a New Year’s resolution at a doughnut shop.

And let’s not forget Article I, Section 6—“Members of Congress shall be paid.” Not “may,” not “might,” not “when they feel like doing their damn jobs.” Shall. Because apparently, divine law applies when their wallets are involved.

George Washington, bless his wooden dentures, saw this coming. The man tried to refuse his salary but realized if only the rich could afford to lead, the whole republic would rot. Two hundred forty-some years later, mission accomplished. We’re run by an aristocracy of apathy who think “public service” means naming a post office after themselves.

This isn’t gridlock anymore. It’s performance art. Congress is a dinner theater production of The Hunger Games, starring millionaires pretending to suffer while the rest of us live on ramen and stress.

You want fiscal responsibility? Start by furloughing the frauds. Dock their pay until they do their jobs. Replace the “In God We Trust” plaque with “No Work, No Check.” Let ‘em feel what it’s like to wonder how long you can stretch a jar of peanut butter.

Because right now, the people who keep the country running—the TSA, the FAA, the folks feeding the hungry and inspecting the meat—are broke, while the folks who broke it are cashing in.

So yeah, John, “what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” But the geese are flying coach, the ganders are on private jets, and the rest of us are grounded.

If Congress wants to understand what a shutdown feels like, they can start by ordering their next paycheck through DoorDash.