I’ve always seen the government as our creepy drunk uncle at Christmas. Far from the hero, he’s more like an unfortunate growth; a frequent nuisance and a perennial grifter. Uncle Scam, if you will.
He didn’t get us any presents because he spent the money on drugs and guns. He’s always rambling about how we ought to behave, but we keep catching him trying to get a peek at our little sister in the shower. He shows up without calling, talks over everybody, and eats the whole pie before dinner is even served. He demands extra helpings, but certainly doesn’t help in the kitchen. He wasn’t invited and he doesn’t know when to leave. Every four years or so he gets supernaturally polite and promises this’ll be the year he gets “his shit together,” but it only lasts until he gets his plate.