Dianne Feinstein Can’t Carpe Dyin’

In life, two things are certain: death and taxes.

Democrats have taxes down. They bask in the inevitability of paying taxes—or, more accurately, that you, the hard-working American, will pay them. They’re well-versed in swallowing up at least a quarter of your income before you can see it and swiping some more when you make a sale or trade a stock or buy something at the store.

Maybe you’ve had an encounter with the Death Tax—when the federal government snatches a portion of Grandpa’s property as soon as they’ve determined he won’t be coming down for breakfast. With such eagerness to seize a portion of your estate, you might think Democrats have grasped life’s other certainty—death.

But just like paying taxes, Democrats are only comfortable when you are the one shedding your mortal coil. Sure, they send the nation into crippling debt as if they’ll die tomorrow, but other than that, it’s quite apparent they struggle with the concept they won’t live forever.

Joe Biden, our oldest POTUS ever at 80, publicly claims he can’t even say the age he is out loud. Between you and me, I doubt he can remember.

This guy plans to run for a second term. Next Inauguration Day, he’ll be a ripe 82. How many 82-year-olds that you know are still working a grocery-store gig, let alone handling nuclear codes?

And did you really think Nancy Pelosi, 83, would have “retired” from House leadership (if not her actual seat) if a red wave—or red trickle—wasn’t a surety? She thought she’d look so noble, so self-aware if she held a massive “retirement” ceremony, complete with genuine Boehner tears.

The reality? Pelosi didn’t have the votes for Speaker. To repeat, she’s still in Congress making our lives worse. Retirement? More like an involuntary demotion.

The saddest case of all is our oldest member of Congress, Senator Dianne Feinstein, who will be entering her tenth decade next month.

DiFi has announced she won’t be running again for the six-year term that begins in 2025, when she’ll be 91. But a number with a nine in front of it isn’t the issue in and of itself.

Sure, she spent almost three months away from the Senate floor with a bout of shingles. But people get sick sometimes. So what?

And, okay, she had to be wheeled back into the Capitol building. But the chamber is accessible. She can still show up and vote with her party. What’s the problem?

Dianne Feinstein isn’t with it, and her mental state might be even worse than that of Dementia Joe.

This week, when a Los Angeles Times reporter asked Feinstein a question about her 10-week absence, she had no idea what he was talking about.

“No, I haven’t been gone,” she said. “You should follow the—I haven’t been gone, I’ve been working.”

Her confusion was obvious when he followed up, asking if she had been working remotely in California.

“No, I’ve been here,” she said, meaning Washington, D.C. “I’ve been voting. Please, you either know or don’t know.”

They say politicians have high opinions of themselves, but this is the first time I’ve heard one claim she could be in two places at once.

Most telling, Feinstein’s condition can be seen clearly through the required-uniform rose-colored glasses at the New York Times.

The article divulged DiFi’s health complications that until now had gone unreported. In addition to Ramsay Hunt syndrome, which can cause facial paralysis, Feinstein apparently suffered from encephalitis (inflammation of the brain) which can be “potentially debilitating,” bringing on balance issues and bouts of mental confusion.

The Times made sure to include that many colleagues noted the sight of an “obviously diminished” Diane Feinstein was “frightening.”

It’s reassuring, in a way. The Democrat operatives can see the truth. The woman is a shell of her old self, but they don’t care. Pelosi wants her in place so that there’s no Senate vacancy that California Gov. Gavin Newsom can fill with another black woman – in the case, Rep. Barbara Lee.

Lee’s already running for the Senate seat, but if she replaces Feinstein before the primary next year, that would give her a leg up over Pelosi’s pet, Rep. Adam Schiff, the congenital liar originally from Framingham.

So a failing Feinstein remains useful to the Deep State, which is why they shrug off the thought of her retirement. Nancy Pelosi even recruited her daughter, Nancy Prowda, to act as the senator’ personal chaperone. Pelosi’s Democrat machine seems to be making sure Dianne makes it to, if not January 2025, at least to primary day in California a year from now.

Why, they ask, should Feinstein have to relinquish her duties if someone can still wheel her decrepit body into the chamber for a Yay or Nay?

And that’s what’s truly frightening.

“Experts” will tell you the nation’s graying population is a great concern.

But the United States doesn’t have an aging problem. Rather, it has a problem with aging.

Old age is seen as a disease to treat rather than a natural sequence to deal with. It’s why Botox is a billion-dollar industry. It’s why Silicon Valley start-ups make a killing in venture capital when they set out to prolong the human lifespan. It’s why proud politicians like Pelosi and Feinstein procrastinate retirement. They can’t accept the fact that they can’t live forever.

To the Democrats, when you grow old, you lose worth. Once you retire, they can’t rake in your income tax. Once you hit 62 (or whenever you retire), they’re forced to shell out Social Security. Once your body ain’t moving like it used to, Medicare stops working in their favor.

One party supports physician-assisted suicide. Think about it.

And if the Democrats truly think this way—that when you stop working, you lose worth—then it explains why Biden, Pelosi, Feinstein et al. can’t admit it might be time to trade in the gavel for time with grandchildren.

Sure, you can’t make nearly as much off the stock market—perhaps hundreds of millions less—when you don’t have an office at the Capitol. But accepting aging, the one uncontrollable, inescapable fact of life, is actually a good thing.

So, Dianne, it’s time to carpe dyin’ like a normal ninety-year-old would.

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