Career Politicians: The Leeches Who Call Themselves “Servants”

They shuffle onto the podium, eyes glassy with rehearsed humility, and insist they’ve spent their lives *serving* you. Joe Biden, Dick Cheney, Nancy Pelosi, three names, one grift. Fifty years, sixty years, seventy years of “public service.” If that phrase still leaves a taste in your mouth that isn’t bile, you haven’t been paying attention.

A servant clocks in, does the work, and clocks out. A servant doesn’t die in office or get wheeled out feet-first after half a century of sucking the marrow from the national bone. These people are not servants. They are leeches, bloated, pale, and latched to the artery of the state.

1973. Nixon is still president. Gas is 39¢ a gallon. And a 30-year-old Joe Biden slides into the Senate like a tick burrowing into warm flesh. He never left. Senate, Vice President, President, every title is just another segment swelling with taxpayer blood. Net worth jumps from “modest” to eight figures while his crack-addict son peddles the family name to Ukrainian energy firms and Chinese tycoons. That’s not service. That’s a feeding tube.

Cheney slithers from congressional staffer to Wyoming rep to Defense Secretary to Halliburton CEO to Vice President and back to the boardroom. Every stop on the carousel, the defense budget balloons and the body count climbs. Halliburton’s stock triples while Iraqi cities burn. He exits the White House, pockets another fortune, and has the gall to lecture *you* about patriotism. Patriotism doesn’t pay seven figures in speaking fees to the guy who green-lit no-bid contracts for his old firm.

1987. Reagan is still in office. Pelosi parks herself in Congress and never leaves. Her husband, Paul, somehow, “always” buys the right call options the day before her committee drops market-moving legislation. Tesla, Visa, Nvidia; the portfolio reads like a lobbyist’s wish list. Her net worth vaults past $120 million while she wags a finger at “income inequality.” She doesn’t serve the public; she serves herself a seven-course meal paid for by your enforced contribution.

Look at the pattern. They arrive young, stay forever, and leave only when rigor mortis sets in or the voters finally notice the puncture wounds. Average congressional tenure: 9+ years and climbing. Reelection rates: 90–95 %. Pensions: six figures for life. Healthcare: platinum-tier, forever. They vote themselves raises, rig district lines, and criminalize competition. Then they have the *audacity* to call it service.

A servant sacrifices. These leeches *accumulate*. They bloat the budget to $6 trillion, the debt to $35 trillion, the regulatory code to 180,000 pages, each page another barnacle on the ship of state. They don’t fix problems; they *are* the problem, fattening themselves on the carcass of a republic that forgot how to say “enough.”

Strip the rhetoric. Ignore the flags pinned to their lapels. What remains is a parasite in human shape, engorged on power and privilege, whispering “trust me” while it drains you dry.

We don’t need their reforms. We don’t need their permission. We need them “gone”. Until then, every ballot cast for a 40-year incumbent is another drop of blood in the jar.