• Daniel Ethan Finneran

Marjorie Taylor Greene, Clipped Of Her Wings

Marjorie Taylor Greene, the freshman congresswoman by whom, for some yet unexplained reason, Georgia’s fourteenth district wished itself to be represented, has been—from now until the expiration of the two-year term before her—stripped of all committee assignments.

With but a single vote on the floor of the House of Representatives, held by the Party now secure in its majority, and convinced of its power, Greene has been banned from all the roles to which her own party, the Republican, might’ve appointed her. As of last week, she’s been denied the many venerable chairs on which, doubtless, she would’ve been privileged to sit. She’s been precluded from taking those lofty positions from which she might’ve shown us, with the supreme éclat of which the Southerner is so bountifully possessed, the breadth of her popular wisdom and the adroitness of her legislative skill.

It was only this past fall that Greene was elevated out of the quiet obscurity of her backwoods Georgia town to the forefront of our national attention—from which, unmercifully, she’s not since strayed. Out of a busy field of modestly-funded opponents, between whom, as in any race, no matter how local, the competition was both relentless and fierce, she emerged, to the shock of all and the applause of few, the undisputed victor.

This daughter of northwest Georgia suddenly had a ticket to ride, punched by the suffrage of the honest people to whom, with her Southern charisma and Trumpian devotion, she deftly managed to appeal. From there, she proceeded to fly with aquiline grace and dazzling speed to the high summit atop which she’s now perched: The Capitol Building in the heart of the federal city, Washington D.C.

Now, prematurely, it seems as though her political wings have been clipped. A smattering of her old Tweets re-surfaced, as inevitably they do in the life of any figure who’s recently come into the smallest acquaintance with fame. They proved, as is always the case, a nasty reminder of her prior musings, an ineffaceable string of weird thoughts and conspiracy theories by which many a person—be she famous or unknown, celebrated or undetected by the public’s eye—has been, at best, terribly inconvenienced, and at worst, utterly destroyed.

Granted, Greene’s tweets were particularly disturbing. She occupied her imagination with incredible fables, odd stories at which even those least detached from reality would turn and look askance. She asserted, among other things, that the shooting at the high school in Parkland, Florida was, to the best of her ample knowledge, inauthentic; she floated her suspicions that the jihadist attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon perhaps weren’t what they seemed; and, oddest of all, she expounded upon the theory that a cabal of cosmological Jews were responsible for the devastating wildfires to which so much of California’s environment succumbed.

As we learned, all these invidious tweets were sent prior to her election to Congress. One might, with a wave of the hand, dismiss as inconsequential the pettiness of so trivial a fact, considering how offensive her messages remain. Indeed, time hasn’t fully blunted their effect. At the risk of taking the stance of her apologist, however, I don’t think this fact can be so easily overlooked. At least during her brief time in Congress, there’s been no sin of which she’s been deemed guilty, nor misconduct of which she’s been accused.

The treatment of Ms. Greene was, for all intents and purposes, without parallel in recent history. Impatient, if not contemptuous of the minority party (within whose ranks, normally, the fate of Ms. Greene ought to have been decided), the Democrats in the House acted unilaterally to exert its power. Heedless of decorum, and unbothered by precedent, they voted to strip Ms. Greene of her ability to sit on any committee whatsoever. None before her had ever been treated in so peremptory a way.

Thus, for the next two years, she’ll collect a salary funded by our taxes, but will leave no discernable impact on our lives. I suppose, then, she’ll exist as if any other congressmen—a person in whom we’ll be made to invest, and from whom we’ll seldom profit.

The real story, however, survives the political death of this conspiratorial public servant. No longer is it centered on the single woman, the “gadfly Greene”, but on the Democratic Party, writ large. In its suggestion and use of a new standard, by which the majority can impose itself on the minority’s right, it’s chosen to cross the Rubicon—yet again. One’s starting to get the feeling that, on the Left, this feeble puddle is now a well-traveled stream.

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Success, ‘tis said, yet more success begets– On the prosperous rains ever more profits. So reads the adage of the Gospel’s Jew: The iron law, the Effect of Matthew. “To him who has much, more will be