Where everything is bipartisan until it is not.
What every politician claims to have after winning an election, even if they won by twelve votes and a recount. It's essentially saying "the people have spoken" while ignoring that half the people said something completely different.
When government reaches a state of total paralysis because both sides would rather accomplish nothing than let the other side accomplish something. It's like two people stuck in a revolving door because neither will step back.
Elections held halfway through a president's term that somehow manage to be both incredibly important and attended by roughly seventeen people. They're like the sequel nobody asked for but that ends up changing the entire franchise.
The noble ideal of both parties working together harmoniously, which occurs in practice about as often as a politician admits they were wrong. It's the political equivalent of a unicorn: beautiful in concept, invisible in reality.
Government spending directed toward a specific district to make the local politician look like a hero, even if nobody needed a forty-million-dollar museum dedicated to the history of buttons. It's bribery but with better branding.
A list of promises a political party makes that serves the same purpose as a restaurant menu at a place that's always out of everything. It's aspirational fiction published every four years and referenced approximately never.
The mythical state where both political parties agree on something, which happens about as often as a solar eclipse during a leap year on a Tuesday. When politicians say they want bipartisan support, they mean they want the other side to completely agree with them.
A male member of a state legislative assembly, typically the lower house where laws are debated before moving up the political food chain. It's basically a state-level lawmaker who answers constituent emails and attends ribbon-cutting ceremonies. The gender-specific term that makes HR departments nervous but remains in official use in several states.
The process of redrawing political maps that happens every ten years and somehow always ends with districts shaped like abstract art. It's the political equivalent of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, except the chairs determine who runs the ship.
The constitutional role of the Senate in confirming presidential appointments and ratifying treaties. In theory, it's collaborative governance; in practice, it's partisan trench warfare over judges and ambassadors.
The person currently holding a political office who has the massive advantage of already being famous for holding that political office. It's like a game of king of the hill where the king also gets to design the hill.
The gap between what the government earns and what it spends, which is like your credit card statement if your credit card had a limit of infinity and your income was based on vibes. Both parties hate it loudly and do absolutely nothing about it.
Rules that prevent politicians from holding the same office forever, based on the radical idea that power should occasionally change hands. Without them, some senators would serve longer than the average lifespan of a Galapagos tortoise.
A political movement that starts from ordinary people, as opposed to the usual method of starting from billionaires in mahogany-paneled rooms. It's democracy's version of a garage band, complete with more enthusiasm than funding.
An economic punishment where one country tells another "we're not trading with you anymore" in the geopolitical equivalent of unfriending someone. Confusingly, the word can also mean "to approve," because English is a language designed to cause headaches.
A question on the ballot written in language so confusing that voting "yes" might mean "no" and nobody is entirely sure. It's democracy's version of a terms-and-conditions agreement that you have to read before clicking accept.
A sneaky way to slip funding for your hometown's Museum of Lint into a defense spending bill. It's essentially hiding your grocery list inside someone else's term paper and hoping nobody reads the footnotes.
The diplomatic equivalent of agreeing to stop glaring at each other across the room, typically between countries that were previously one step away from conflict. It's a deliberate relaxation of tension and improvement in relations, though everyone keeps their weapons just in case. Made famous during the Cold War when the US and USSR decided mutual destruction wasn't that appealing.
A terrifying economic deadline that politicians invented to scare themselves into doing their jobs, which spoiler alert, rarely works. It's like procrastinating on a group project except the group project is the entire national economy.
Unofficial diplomatic negotiations conducted secretly, bypassing formal government channels.
The congressional process of deciding who gets how much money, which is essentially a 535-person argument over splitting the check at the world's most expensive dinner. It's where dreams go to get a budget haircut.
A gathering where politically passionate people stand in corners of a room like an awkward middle school dance, except instead of slow dancing they're arguing about tax policy. Democracy at its most cardio-intensive.
A fancy word for "voter" that politicians use when they want to sound like they actually remember you exist between elections. You're a constituent when they need your vote and a statistic the rest of the time.
A fine-tuning, correction, or settlement made to an agreement, policy, or financial account. The polite term for 'we're changing the rules slightly' or 'we need to fix what was wrong.'