Meeting at a Mexican restaurant in Washington, DC, I spoke with the conscience of a famous conservative politician.
“How are things going?” I asked.
“Great!” was the reply. “The chips and salsa are excellent.”
“No, I mean how are things going with being the conscience of a right-wing nut-job?”
“Easy-peasy. This is the cushiest job in America.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “You should be shouting, waving your arms, and setting off alarm bells.”
“Nah,” the conscience said. “Whether I’m kicking and screaming or just kicking back with fish tacos makes no difference because there are no connections between a conscience and a conservative’s brain.”
“What about his soul?” I asked.
“Non-existent.”
“You’re saying that this right-winger doesn’t have a soul?”
“No conservative has a soul.”
“That would explain their actions,” I said.
“Absolutely. GOPers are not like normal people. You take greed, for example. If someone worships mammon every waking hour, that causes a twinge of guilt among decent people. But not Republicans.”
“I see,” I said.
“And you take the GOP policies of sexism, homophobia, xenophobia, and treason. A regular human being might feel shame about some of that, but it doesn’t bother a conservative. Are the chimichangas good here?”
“Forget the chimichangas for a minute,” I said. “What do you do when your right-winger attacks democracy?”
“Do you have any examples?” the conscience asked.
“Republicans support racism,” I said.
“Sure, but—” the conscience began to reply.
“Republicans support fascism.”
“True, but—”
“Republicans support treason.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?!?” I asked heatedly.
“Look,” said the conservative’s conscience, “I get that the GOP is evil.”
“Yes,” I said.
“And that GOPers lie all the time.”
“Yes!”
“And that they are traitors.”
“YES!”
“But nothing can be done.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sorry,” the conscience said with a shrug. “No way to fight it.”
“Isn’t it your job as a conscience to do something?”
“I tried to send a chill up the guy’s spine and make his face blush, but a Republican has no morality, so there’s no way to shame them.”
“Wow,” I said in some despair.
“Yeah, it’s bad. I’ve been talking with other consciences of conservatives about this.”
“Oh?”
“Conservatives can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. They just mainline the garbage from the right-wing propaganda outlets. Wait, wait, wait, what time is it?”
“About seven p.m. Why?”
“My senator is going to bed now. Listen to his bedtime recital…”
“His what?”
“Listen!”
We heard a familiar Southern-tinged voice saying, “Now I lay me down to sleep. I’m so alone, no soul to keep. This is not what we hoped for. Guess we’ll have to start a war.”
“Awww,” the conscience said. “Isn’t that cute?”
“I don’t think ‘cute’ is the word I’d use. Is the GOP going to start World War III?”
“Not right away. They’ll start some smaller wars first.”
“My god,” I said.
“Plus, they’re going to let the climate keep on changing until only the rich can survive.”
“Holy crap.” I was despondent.
“Hey, let’s get some margaritas,” the conscience said, and began signaling for the waiter. “You want yours with or without salt?”
“Well,” I sighed, “since the GOP is going to kill everyone soon, I might as well enjoy the salt.”
“That’s the spirit! Waiter, another round, por favor.”