BEAST Staff Aids
Non-Millionaire

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A few days later, we drove to the congressman’s offices at 500 Essjay Rd, Suite 260, Williamsville, and after a fortuitous wrong turn which led to a last-minute corporate contribution from a nearby office, followed the arrows to the proper location.

We were taken aback. The office was ultra-modern and pristine, not at all characteristic of an impoverished non-millionaire. We could only conclude that Reynolds’ pitiful campaign spots must have drawn a similarly charitable response from the rest of his constituency, and there had apparently been a huge, spontaneous grassroots campaign to lift the struggling congressman from the miserable poverty he had endured with dignity until recently. Our philanthropy, it seemed, had been dwarfed by others concerned for Reynolds’ dire financial straits. I consoled myself, remembering that every little bit makes a difference.

There were several small rooms, almost like foyers, that led to the main office door made of glass. One had a portrait of Abraham Lincoln on a backdrop of an American flag. I considered how appropriate it was. Tom Reynolds is like Abraham Lincoln: a poor, self-educated bastion of selflessness, fighting to unite the people under a banner of basic human dignity while suffering the slings and arrows of an egotistical aristocracy—scoundrels like Millionaire Jack “Millionaire” Davis, the millionaire. People like Reynolds and Lincoln deserved a helping hand from those who benefit so tremendously from their presence. And that’s what we were here to provide.

A man in a simple shirt and tie, too humble to give his name, greeted us at the door. It was difficult to determine his age. Like the starving third world peasants I had seen in pictures, he probably looked older than his true age due to the myriad ravages of malnutrition. After we relayed our mission, he called us “cute” with a wink, and respectfully declined. His lips said, “No, no thanks, that’s it, OK? Goodbye!” but his $3 million campaign fund said “Yes, yes, yes!” He shut the door and walked away at a rapid speed, his nobility in sacrifice moving us deeply. We decided to leave our crate of non-perishables in the hallway so as not to further embarrass the poor-but-proud Reynolds camp, just like Jesus would have.

It’s a hard life for the disadvantaged congressman out there, especially with millionaires like Jack Davis trying to destroy your job. But it makes me feel a little better that even if Reynolds joins the ranks of the unemployed come November, at least he’ll have some Spam to keep him going. At least he knows we care. And, if he might look back and think of us while eating those noodles, well that would make it all the sweeter.