The Senate Floor: where dreams come to die

Have you ever imagined how a disgruntled Sukhotai-era feudal lord behaves at home? After a bad day (or a bad seven-year) at work, how he complains to his 250 servants?

Of course, you’ve never imagined such a thing. But that’s what General Prayut Chan-o-cha’s yesterday rambling diatribe to the 250 senators who he handpicked to handpick him as prime minister was like.

“Thailand’s democracy, how far do you want it to go? Is today not enough?!”

(Senators are living proof that it ain’t even a democracy.)

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t believe in me? Raise your hand. [No hand raised.] See? No one. I can’t force you. I respect you. I don’t interfere with your work through the seven years. I respect your abilities based on the same understanding.”

(The same understanding is “I picked you to pick me.”)

“Every day, they try to chase me out! The more they chase me, the more I will fight! Okay? Who will fight with me!”

(You have guns, tanks, prisons, and lawyers to go after people who criticize you.)

“I follow all of you! Facebook! Likebook! I have them all!”

(Senators shifted nervously.)

“In the next election, make the right choice. I will finish my term.”

(Senators have only one choice.)

“I’ve never thought of myself. Really, I’ve never. I work every day. I work every day. I even dream about work. I can’t even dream about anything else. I want to dream, but I can’t.”

(Your dream is a national nightmare.)

It was a therapy session for a feudal lord to release his anger and frustration, to reaffirm his existential worth to 250 loyal servants.

Like Al Franken’s Stuart Smalley character from Saturday Night Live back in the 1990s. Look at yourself in the mirror and repeat:

“You’re good enough. You’re smart enough. And doggone it, people like you.”

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