The Pork Report

There are several of us who write The Pork Report, and while the other writers wish to remain anonymous, as is their right, I wanted to share my story.

I’ve lived in Philadelphia my whole life. I grew up in Pennsport with my parents and two brothers. My father was a Democratic committeeman and as soon as I was able to walk he took me with him when he went door to door in the neighborhood, getting petition signatures and handing out campaign literature. He was somehow involved with Buddy Cianfrani back in the day, either Buddy got him a job early on or something like that I don’t know, but I grew up with a great respect for the man, fostered by my Pop.

When I got out of high school my father used his political connections to get me a job at Traffic Court. It was okay, I didn’t mind it. I mean it was a job and I needed one and I was still living with my parents. They were getting old and I wanted to help take care of them while my brothers were still in school. This is probably boring so I’ll skip right to it – a few years into my job I became really excited about a potential candidate for City Council in the 1st, an older brother of a friend of mine from growing up who I really trusted and really believed in. I told him I really wanted to help him in his campaign and that I thought he could really do a much better job than the guy who was in office at the time. I was pretty floored when a few days after that initial conversation I lost my job at Traffic Court and my friend never spoke to me again. He ended up never running. I don’t know the full story of what happened, but I have my suspicions.

The rest of my political life has unfolded in a very similar way. I begin to get involved with a candidate or an organization that looks good to me, something I really believe in, and then POOF it all gets taken away by powers beyond my control. Have I tried to fight it? Yes, of course I have. It only makes things worse for me and my family. We have to eat, don’t we? Meanwhile, the neighborhood of my childhood only gets dirtier and more dangerous at night.

What I’ve learned over the years is that hot-shot candidates and political operatives and organizations come and go and come and go. Sometimes you choose the right horse and you can get rich and sometimes you choose the wrong one and you’re wishing you had your job at Traffic Court back. What doesn’t come and go though are the ideas that makes being involved in politics worthwhile. The pure ideas that drive the movements and the candidates beyond a desire for money or power in this small neighborhood, which seems to be getting smaller every year. I want to be involved in a debate where I can say what I feel and I don’t have to look over my shoulder, and I don’t have to fear for my job, and I don’t have to wonder how this will affect my family. That’s why now, finally, I’m ready to tell you that my name is Silence Dogood.