To mask or not to mask … that is the question

To be clear, it’s the question I’m sick of hearing, asking, wondering, contemplating, debating and basically just philosophizing over incessantly.

Please understand, I continue to take this icky old pandemic thing seriously. Probably more than your average Joe or Josephine sitting around that old round. You know, the circular room in the Capitol building where they hold all those VIP meetings deciding really imperative stuff. Vital, prominent, essential and critical things including, but not necessarily limited to, making laws or negotiating treaties or, perhaps even ushering in or scooting out commanders-in-chief.

Impeachment seems to be a favorite thing for them to deliberate. And discuss. And deliberate. And discuss some more. And then, forget about and sorta just mosey on over to some other matter of national disinterest, er, interest.

Sure, they have no problem regulating what our collective budget should be or determining what health care services we should receive or what we can or cannot watch on TV. Or, my favorite and yours, deciding how to spend our money.

Let’s face it, they’ve got no real trouble making up all the rules we gotta follow. But whether or not we should don the masks? Hey now, don’t be crazy — they can’t give a straight answer on that kinda weighty thing.

Meh. Just chalk it up to the 17 gazillion things Congress does that nobody REALLY understands.

Even though they do somehow find time in their very, extremely busy schedules to toss tons of our tax dollars into their own tight fists. Grubby buggers. I digress.

They’re so weird up in the general vicinity of the National Mall, aren’t they?

Those politico poopy heads. Their main role seems to be spouting off insults, innuendos and inferences across the aisle.

Grrr.

Allegations, accusations, insinuations, oh my! No wonder we boy-who-cried-wolfed them so long ago.

Nah. I’ll never understand those tiresome trolls. I’d call them ogres but don’t want to offend my beloved Shrek and Fiona, you see. The purpose of Congress these days seems to be getting under the skin of you and me and, um, I suppose old Bobby McGee?

Jimmy Buffet might have been onto something years ago in the lyrics of his 1996 song “Only Time Will Tell” from the album “Banana Wind.” He basically said we’ve had the same old same olds running things for so long that we ought to try change things up a bit.

I believe his recommendation was to nominate the creature from the black lagoon … on Jupiter. According to Buffett, scales and clocks just can’t be trusted — and apparently, neither can politicians. Amidst the song’s lyrics, the perennial partying pirate pondered:

“Are we destined to be ruled by a bunch of old white men

Who compare the world to football and are programmed to defend?

I’d like to try a princess or a nonterrestrial

Who is neither boast nor bashful …

Is there really such a girl? Only time will tell.”

Hmm. I’m not sure about having ET run the nation, but Cinderella would get my vote.

The way I see it, she escaped the clutches of a ruthless authority figure, magically maneuvered marvels like transforming rodents into stallions — and charmed the shoes off everyone from evil witches to handsome royals to grumpy old men.

The role of running Congress would be rote — and should fit her like a glass slipper.

• Kimerer is a columnist chairing the campaign for Cinderella 2024. Read the related platform at www.patriciakimerer.com.