This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2017, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

I just realized that Utah Congressman Jason Chaffetz will resign at the end of next month. Yes, I know it's been in the news for some time now. I haven't been paying attention.

Lots of people don't pay attention to the news. For good reason, too. Most news is bad. Somebody ran a truck through a crowd, planted a bomb in a preschool, embezzled the life savings of a widow, or took a selfie with a Kardashian.

So I figure why waste a perfectly good half-hour listening to reasons why we should all be ashamed of being Homo sapiens?

Where was I? Oh, right, Chaffetz. I brought it up because of an important if not downright auspicious coincidence.

He's resigning on the last day of next month and — AND — the first day of next month is my birthday. So I want the remainder of his term as a birthday present.

I don't want to run for the seat in a special election. I refuse to spend any of my own money getting it, and I damn sure won't campaign. It's my birthday.

Some of you — perhaps a dozen or more — might have questions about my overall fitness for Congress. I shall now entertain three from the media:

Dan Harrie, The Salt Lake Tribune • "Are you out of your damn mind?"

Me • "Not all the time. But being of sound mind is not a requirement for national political office. If it suddenly were, real estate values in posh areas of Maryland, Virginia and parts of D.C. would drop like a horse fell out of a helicopter.

Lee Benson, Deseret News • "What are you prepared to do about the Clinton email investigation and the Trump-Putin connection?"

Me • "Nothing. That's apparently what's getting done now. I fail to see why it would be up to a part-term, freshman congressman to change that. That said, I would be willing to give it a shot if reporters and law enforcement would plug their ears and look the other way for 10 minutes. Next question. You. No, in the very back. Yeah, you. What's your question?"

Some guy • "Ah, sorry. I'm lost. Could you tell me where the restroom is?"

Me • "Out the door, turn right. It's by the soda machine. You'll see the sign."

Enough questions for now. I think you have some idea of what kind of congressman I would make. It's a complicated job that — judging from our current mess — few people are capable of doing with any measurable degree of success.

People think they know what they would do if suddenly given a seat in Congress. They would vote this way or that on whatever bill was before them, as if they were in a position to change the world.

Here's the thing about being a member of Congress — not only can you not really change the world, you also can't even change your mind. You belong to a party that will sanction you if you get too far out of line. Your constituents will cry for your blood.

Neckties, airless meetings, social pressure, bureaucratic punishment, endless speeches and constant worrying whether you've done enough. Sounds way too much like church.

I've changed my mind. I want a Sony PlayStation VR for my birthday.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.