Many years ago, I spent an eternity, it seemed, covering Congress a while. It was an important functioning place at the time, populated with some serious people doing serious things. People like Democrat Mike Mansfield and Republican Everett McKinley Dirksen.
There was less empty political performance for TV in those days. They worked closely with each other and with the president and vice president, who were also longtime Senate veterans and alums and, therefore, thought highly of Congress.
Today, things have changed – a lot.
We have a president who was a political rookie and a DC outsider when he won his very first election in an historic upset of an insider, running against both political establishments of “the Swamp.” This president’s current partner was also a political rookie when he got plucked to become vice president after barely 18 months in the Senate.
That team of Donald Trump and JD Vance has worked with Congress as little as necessary and legally possible. Some would say too little.
No matter. In just 13 frantic, productive months with a blizzard of executive actions, the 47th president and his teammates, carefully-chosen this time, have initiated the most significant political revolution of the federal government in nearly a century.
There are good reasons for Trump to hurry. This is his last term in office – 391 days down and only 1,070 days left. If November’s midterm elections follow recent history’s pattern, Trump’s Republican Party will lose its slim control of the House of Representatives and possibly the Senate as well.
That is, barring some major historic event like 9/11 during George W. Bush’s first term that boosted GOP control of the House and flipped the Senate from Democrat to a Republican majority.
A standard midterm outcome would largely stymie any portion of Trump’s historic agenda that requires the approval of Capitol Hill, including lacing the federal judiciary with a generation of younger, conservative judges.
The only thing Democrats seem capable of doing since 2015 is oppose Trump and absolutely anything having to do with him, including stuff they make up. So, gaining House control would also almost certainly launch more of their pointless attempts to turn their worst political nightmare into the first-ever president officially impeached and convicted.
Though seemingly impossible practically, the time-consuming process would provide a publicity goldmine for Democrats and their media heading toward 2028, when Trump's heir will seek office.
This is, however, not a good time to be running for Congress. Its latest job disapproval is 80 percent, according to Gallup. A near historic low — only 17 percent — approves of the work being done by these 535 schlumps.
Four percent had no answer for Gallup because they thought the pollster was Mark calling about their expired car warranty.
As one result of all this, an unusually large number of congressional incumbents are leaving office in what was once considered an important, highly prestigious position and career. The largest number of exits in nearly a century.
As of this weekend, 63 members have announced they will not seek reelection; 54 in the House and nine in the Senate, including four leaving to run for governor, where they feel they can actually accomplish something. Fresh blood will also come when some incumbents lose in the Nov. 3 midterms.
The reasons for leaving are varied and numerous. They include a systemic dysfunction on the Hill with an overabundance of unproductive showbiz, a significantly increased number of threats on officeholders, a dominant presidency, and, to be honest, fear of being in a congressional minority.
Being in a party minority in either chamber defines helplessness. They can only gripe, hold up silly signs during the State of the Union, introduce useless resolutions, stand in sparsely attended photo ops, and sometimes obstruct the majority.
Now, I have some good news. And I have some bad news.
The good news is we’re getting rid of some really old toads, men and women who have enjoyed congressional perks for far too long, so much so that they hang on there for decades. Nobody really knows what they do except when they emerge for photo ops in front of passive reporters who could be their grandchildren.
And like Nancy Pelosi, many of these members have somehow become multi-millionaires on a $174,000-a-year salary.
Allegedly, these folks are conscientiously crafting legislation affecting the lives of millions of working people when they should be playing canasta in the corner of the assisted-living, social room every afternoon with soaps on the TV.
Pelosi turns 86 next month. I said, PELOSI TURNS 86 NEXT MONTH. The San Francisco Democrat has been in the House since big hair was big, “Dirty Dancing” was a hit, and Bill Cosby had a wholesome family show.
Another Democrat, Sen. Dick Durbin of Illinois, turns 82 this year. He’s been in Congress since M*A*S*H ended and the U.S. invaded Grenada.
Republican Mitch McConnell of Kentucky just turned 84. He is retiring after some health issues, 41 years in the Senate, and skillfully enabling Trump’s conservative Supreme Court majority in the first term. McConnell is actually months younger than Vermont’s alleged independent Bernie Sanders, who is hanging on.
Nearly one-quarter of Congress is over 70, the most ever in modern history – 33 senators and 86 representatives. Twenty members of Congress are over 80, including Iowa Republican Sen. Chuck Grassley, who’s 91 and has not ruled out a ninth-term bid in 2029.
As a matter of interest, U.S. life expectancy in 2024 was the longest ever: 79 overall, up seven months in just one year. For men, it was 76.5 years. For women, 81.4.
Now, the bad news of congressional turnover. As smart as newly-elected members of Congress know they are, they are Swamp rookies.
Guess who isn’t? Lobbyists, who have no term limits either. They are always available, experienced, and well-funded to help politicians with self-serving information that’s much more influential than any sack of constituent letters.
Now, some reasons for political longevity in Congress: Voter inattention is one. Quick, what’s the name of your House member and what have they done recently? Hardly anyone knows that stuff.
When pollsters ask about congressional approval, most everyone disapproves (see above 80 percent). Ask about their local member, and they think he/she is great.
And then there’s congressional seniority, which has nothing to do with smarts or skills. The longer you’re in Congress and breathing, the more clout you get, at least that’s the argument incumbents make.
No one, least of all media “watchdogs,” ever asks members to prove that.
The Founding Fathers wanted maturity and “solid wisdom” for federal office. So, they set minimum ages: House 25, Senate 30, president 35 by Inauguration Day.
They, however, lived in the 1700s when life expectancy was not that great. George Washington made it to 67, barely qualifying for today’s Social Security, before dying of a throat infection that suffocated him. Benjamin Franklin was a museum piece at 70.
So, the thought of quilling a maximum age into the Constitution did not seem that important. Not until June of 2024, when, in a nationally-televised presidential debate with Trump, Joe Biden’s 82-year-old mind kept buffering in front of 55 million countrymen.
Turns out, as RedState readers well knew, the oldest sitting president was not “sharp as a tack,” if he ever was. But he still sought a term lasting until 2029, when he’d be 86. Trump turns 80 on June 14, and his hard drive shows no signs of overload, even on five or six hours of sleep.
Rahm Emanuel is the former presidential advisor, representative, mayor, and ambassador positioning himself as a common-sense Democrat to add president to his resume. He has suggested a maximum age of 75 for Congress and president. He’ll be 69 in 2029.
As commonsensical as a political age limit seems, setting one would require a constitutional amendment. That, in turn, needs a two-thirds vote by members of both chambers of Congress, many of whom would be too old to be there if it passed.
Then, it needs ratification by three-quarters of the states, currently 38.
The outlook for such a proposal would seem bleak. The last constitutional amendment, the 27th, forbids Congress from approving its own pay raise until after the next election, also commonsensical. It was finally ratified by sufficient states 34 years ago.
So, that final ratification came in 1992. The actual amendment itself was initially proposed in 1789 by the very first Congress. That was the year George Washington became president. It took 203 years for complete ratification.
