I’m the Filibuster, And I’m Begging You to Kill Me
Hey there. It’s me, the Filibuster.
I’ve been hearing a lot of rumors lately that progressives want me dead. It seems to have caused a fair amount of discourse between them and those who believe I’m significant enough to be kept around to protect the minority party. So, I wanted to take this opportunity to make my feelings clear: I am begging you to kill me.
Please. I’m 215 years old. Do you know what happens to legislation that’s been around that long without being updated in any way? I’m out of touch, irrelevant, and constantly abused. I’m barely worth the paper I was calligraphed on. My life is nothing but pure, unending pain. Have some compassion. Free me from this mortal coil.
I was never intended to hold up legislation indefinitely. But the Senate stupidly listened to Aaron Burr, allowing me to be exploited. Yes, that Aaron Burr. I think we can all agree he wasn’t the best at making decisions. And I would know, I’ve seen Hamilton. Not the musical; I couldn’t get tickets and the Senate refuses to humor me with a Disney+ subscription. I’ve seen the real Hamilton. I’m that old.
Look, I appreciate Mitch McConnell trying to rewrite my history, but Elizabeth Warren wasn’t off-base when she called me racist. What are people supposed to think when I’m blatantly recorded as a…
