The “Stop Peeing on Our Legs Act.”
Imagine a World Where Politicians Had to Be Honest Before They Got Paid...
Alright, grab your popcorn and a barf bag. Because I’m about to propose a law so overdue it should come with back pay.
Here it is: Every single member of Congress, every bloated senator, every Cabinet overlord who thinks they’re untouchable; line ‘em up and stick a needle in their arm. Sodium Pentothal. Truth serum. Administered by someone in scrubs, not someone in a suit. Real questions. Real answers. No handlers. No spin.
Let’s call it the “Stop Peeing on Our Legs Act.”
Because I’m tired of these people smirking through congressional hearings like they’re auditioning for a reboot of Weekend at Bernie’s while we foot the bill for their lies, scams, and yacht fuel.
And while we’re at it, let’s start with a few Hall of Famers.
Picture this: Chuck “Upchuck” Schumer sweating bullets under a flickering light, sodium pentothal coursing through his veins, and a nurse named Brenda from Des Moines asking the real questions:
“Did you shut the government down for 43 days just to hold the country hostage over political theater?”
“Were you planning the talking points before you even staged the crisis?”
“Did you lie to the American people when you said it was about ‘protecting democracy’ or was it really about protecting your polling numbers?”
Watch him fidget like a toddler caught stealing from the cookie jar. You’d hear him stammer something about “strategic legislative positioning” before the serum kicks in and he blurts out, “Because Johnson wouldn’t let me have my press conference spotlight!”
Then bring in Nancy. Queen Botox herself. Have her sit down in her designer heels and thousand-dollar coat; remember that little flex during the last shutdown, while federal workers scrambled to eat? Yeah. That Nancy.
Let’s see how she does with a few uncomfortable truth bombs:
“Did you ever read the full text of the bill you claimed would ‘save the Republic’?”
“Do you think insider trading is just part of the perks package?”
“How much did your husband make off those defense contracts while you were pounding the podium about peace?”
Tell me that wouldn’t be the best damn Netflix special in years. Forget Love Is Blind. This is Truth Is Injected.
You want to be in charge of taxpayer dollars? You want to write laws that wreck the middle class? Cool. First, you sit in a chair, you get comfy, and you answer some questions with a little medical help:
Have you ever lied to the American public?
Did you actually read that 1,200-page bill before you voted yes?
Do you have offshore accounts parked in countries you can’t spell?
Were you snorting Adderall while lecturing us about fentanyl?
Is your entire career built on pretending to care?
Now picture that televised. Prime time. Ratings through the roof. Way better than C-SPAN’s usual fare of dead air and ceremonial gaslighting.
And spare me the “That’s unconstitutional!” crowd. So is wrecking a country with backroom deals and fake empathy while half of Congress couldn’t pass a polygraph with a cheat sheet and the answers tattooed on their eyelids.
Let’s get honest. We trust pilots to take drug tests, teachers to pass background checks, and factory workers to get breathalyzed after lunch, but the guys writing trillion-dollar laws? Nah. They get a pass. They get a pension.
Hell no.
These people lie for sport. They lie like it’s cardio. They lie with the kind of ease most of us reserve for blinking. And you expect me to believe the Ethics Committee will hold them accountable?
Folks, the Ethics Committee couldn’t spot a conflict of interest if it was wearing a neon sign and screaming “I GAVE MY COUSIN A CONTRACT.”
This isn’t a policy idea. It’s a damn intervention.
So yeah jab them with truth juice. Make ‘em sweat. Watch the fake smiles melt faster than a popsicle in Death Valley. And maybe, just maybe, we get some real answers for once in our lives.
These two have spent decades perfecting the art of lying with a straight face. They don’t blink. They don’t sweat. They just talk in circles until the media nods like trained seals and the public forgets what day it is.
But shoot ‘em up with a little honesty serum, and suddenly the fog lifts:
“Yeah, we knew the shutdown would hurt Americans — but it made the other side look bad, so we ran with it.”
“Sure, we padded some deals for donors. Who doesn’t?”
“Honestly? We don’t care if the government shuts down. We still get paid.”
Boom. There it is. The mask slips. And America finally hears the truth straight from the royal court of bullsh*t artists.
No more spin. No more staged outrage. Just raw, uncut honesty with a syringe and a spotlight.
It’s not just accountability, it’s catharsis.
And it’s way past due.