Once More Unto the Breach

                                        Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,

                                        Or close the wall up . . . 

                                             —Henry V, 3.1

Just when you thought Republican grand guignol could not get any grander, the past few days’ Congressional Speaker Drama hit the hustings. ‘Drama’ is probably a euphemism.  Events quickly exploded into what Sir Philip Sidney excoriated as ‘mungrell tragi-comedy,’ a theatrical spectacle that not only mixes genres but also pulverizes them into an inchoate squirm of competing performances.  To Sidney in 1580, the mungrells’ biggest dramatic sin is ignoring the classical unities. Things haven’t changed much in 2015, as the GOP is maniacally engaged in attacking the very ideological and procedural unities that used to define a political party.

Perhaps recourse to Renaissance theatre, specifically Shakespearean theatre (because Shakespeare did blend genres without embracing full mungrellhood, and because most of us are familiar with his plays) might help explain what’s been happening in the United States House of Representatives.  We could call the play Boehnerolianus . . . or MacBoehner . . . or Boehnlet (Hamboehn?). . . or King John (wait, that’s already been used, if one accepts a capacious Shakespearean canon).

                                          The night has been unruly: where we lay [. . .]

                                          And prophesying with accents terrible 

                                          Of dire combustion and confused events 

                                          New hatch'd to the woeful time.

                                               —Macbeth, 2.3

Act One:  John Boehner (R-OH) abdicates his Speaker of the House position because uneasy lies the head that wants to play golf instead of deal with recalcitrant dickwads.  A week later, he has a bad dream about a "hand" that "came reaching, pulling," and, ultimately preventing his dream-self from making a needed escape. "I was trying to get out and I couldn't get out," Boehner related. This is either a symptom of watching Godfather 3 too many times or a genuine Shakespearean portent, or both.  Not to worry, though:  the succession is set, with Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-CA) slotted into the Speakership. Speaker Boehner can give up the responsibilities that come with being King of the Hill and go back to being a bibulously care-free Prince Hal. No more unto the breach!

                                         If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you?

                                         ' Tis bargained ’twixt us twain, being alone,

                                         That she shall still be curst in company.

                                              —The Taming of the Shrew, 2.1

Act Two:  On Wednesday, October 7, the thanes gather in Washington DC to crown successor Kevin.  Enough seem to be on board for the coronation to occur, even though Kevin the Syntaxless leaves a bit to be desired in the one-would-think-important talent of communicative arts.  Conclave happens, news people poised to report, Kevin McCarthy announces:  that he’s dropped out!  No way!  But, uh, why?  

Political pundits (who in this post-classical, post-Shakespearean age assume the dramatic rolls of Greek choruses) are oddly tongue-tied.  It’s as if they know something that they don’t feel comfortable sharing with their less-informed audiences.  Something like the pervasive rumors that Kevin McCarthy has been carrying on a long affair with Renee Ellmers (R-NC from the district right next to mine, but not mine, so she’s not my fault).  Of course, their ‘friendship’ was under-the-radar, because every politically connected person in the country knew about it.  Nonetheless, the reasons for McCarthy’s withdrawal are initially explained via vote numbers.

                                          Exit.  Pursued by a bear.

                                              —A Winter’s Tale, 3.3

Act Three:  On Thursday, October 8, the main/lame/tamestream media finally coughs up what they’ve known all along.  Not only the allegations of a not-so-family-values affair between two married Republican congresspeople, but also that McCarthy may have been blackmailed into resigning.  Rumors are rumors, and are plentiful, but a full-blown media attack using said rumors can be pretty devastating.  Ewwww.  

ANOTHER Republican Speaker sex scandal?  Weren’t Newt Gingrich, Bob Livingston, and Denny Hastert sufficiently embarrassing?  Couldn’t Kevin McCarthy have been thoughtful enough to confine his dirty-boy inclinations to diaper-play prostitutes (Sen. David Vitter R-LA) or wide-stance bathroom meet-and-greets (Sen. Larry Craig, R-ID)?  But sullying one’s own political nest, in the nest itself . . . . 

By the end of Thursday and certainly by Friday, more details ooze out of the muck.  The instigator of much of the Ellmers-McCarthy finger-pointing was the notorious take-em-all-down conservative troller Charles Johnson.  Johnson’s shit-slinging was soon lateraled to Steve Baer, a very wealthy (and evidently very bored) person who loves to bombard ‘thought leaders’ with zillions of scurrilous emails  Which he did, vis-a-vis McCarthy, and which caused so many sludge-spattering waves in the underground political cesspool that poor old Kevin has to  head for the Bakersfield hinterlands, while slut-shamed Renee is left to being curst in company.

How wonderful that McCarthy was actually pursued (and made to exit) by a Baer!

                                          But we both obey,

                                          And here give up ourselves, in the full bent

                                          To lay our service freely at your feet,

                                          To be commanded.

                                               —Hamlet, 2.2

Act Four:  No one with serious House of Representatives cred wants the job of Speaker!  By Friday, people go full-frontal into proposing less and less likely candidates and analyzing the next Speaker’s new clothes.  Which would be seriously frayed breech cloths, if they’re lucky.  My favorite sansculottes (actually proposed for Speaker!) are Dick Cheney and Newt Gingrich (who OF COURSE said he’d be willing to resume his previous role). The Constitution does not require that a Speaker has to be an actual, current member of the House of Representatives, so why not?  Just remember that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern ended up dead (as did just about everyone else in Hamlet), but that’s probably a different discussion.  

In addition to Dick and Newt are a handful of House Republicans registering interest in the job:  Teapartiers Daniel Webster (R-FL), Jason Chaffetz (R-UT), certified crazy person Darrell Issa (R-CA). back-benchers John Kline (R-MN) and Lynn Westmoreland (R-GA).  The problem is that the new Speaker would need to reconcile the Republican Party’s warring factions and do some actual legislating.  None of these politicians seems capable of doing so:  some are card-carrying members of the no-compromise, no-government guild and others are so obscure and clout-less that they’d have zero chance of influencing their Housemates to play nice. 

                                         Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

                                         The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

                                         Or to take arms against a sea of troubles . . . 

                                                 —Hamlet 1.2

Act Five: Enter Paul Ryan (R-WI), the pop-up consensus candidate for Speaker — conservative, respected by peers, smarter than the average GOPer.  There’s a small difficulty, however.  Precisely because he is smarter than the average GOPer, Representative Ryan wants nothing to do with this horrible, thankless, soul-shattering, career-killing job. He’d rather spend time with his young children, go deer-hunting, and watch Packer games than try to corral stray naysayers, get criticized on all sides, and fundraise, fundraise, fundraise.  Good call, Paul!

Except his panicky colleagues are acting like hormone-addled teenage boys:  ‘No’ must mean ‘yes’, or at least ‘maybe’ if I keep asking you, or ‘I give up’ because you’re tired of hearing how much actual pain I’m in (blue balls for red-staters).  Pressure on all sides, from every Republican representative who can find an unoccupied microphone to former running-mate Mitt Romney.  Save us! You’re the chosen one! It’s your patriotic duty! We’ll get some other lackey to do the tiresome fundraising part!  And thus Paul Ryan, being human despite the Eddie Munster haircut, is reconsidering.  Perhaps.

Like Hamlet, Ryan is undecided.  The reluctant lead player in the latest Republican mungrell tragi-comedy, he’s now holed up in Wisconsin to contemplate previous Speakers’ fates and to consider the particular sea of troubles — government shutdowns, debt ceilings, rolling back Obamacare for the umpteenth unsuccessful time — into which he’d be plunging.  Will ‘no’ mean ‘yes’?

If it doesn’t, John Boehner’s nightmare comes true . . . and he may have to stay on as Speaker for a few more months.  Once more unto the breach, dammit. 

                                          Rather proclaim it [. . .]

                                          That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

                                          Let him depart.

                                                —Henry V 4.3