I wish I'd said it first:

"The world is a stage but the play is badly cast"
Oscar Wilde

"In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away."
shing xiong

"Life is hard; it's harder if you're stupid."
John Wayne

"Life is a great, big canvas and you should throw all the paint you can on it."
Danny Kaye

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Where's The Constitution Anyway? by Pamela Kraemer

Pass the tequila and damn the torpedos. Full speed ahead! The Constitution is officially the red headed step child of the Bush-Cheney Administration. I awoke, as I seem to do a lot lately, with a head full of dark thoughts about what is happening to this country of mine. Where has old lady Liberty gone? Certainly she has packed her bags and bought a ticket on the first jet, ocean liner, tramp steamer or the space shuttle out of here? I confess, I picture Lady Liberty to be a Xerox copy of the Statue of Liberty, green patina and all, walking in a clunky, copper-clad, monster-like motion, her long robes flowing behind as she paces the floor holding book in hand and dragging a suitcase, somewhere she has dropped her torch and needed that hand to pack with.

I picture the lady waiving a pistol while she takes a long slug off of a bottle of Jack. She winces and slams her fist down like a character from a Tennessee Williams Play decrying the woes of her country. I see the poor thing hunched in a brothels dark corner, disgusted with herself for being sold to the Federalist Society's highest bidder. Liberty is so ashamed of what has become of her. She used to stand in NY Harbor welcoming the homeless-tempest-tossed and now she has been forced at gun point to become a whore who's deeds are seen around the world as detestable. She shrinks in confusion as she reads that torture is okay if it's okayed by Dick-The-Penguin-Cheney. She runs for the toilet to vomit when she sees what her military is doing in her name and how the coffins come back in secret to mothers who want to make sense out of the death of their beloved children. Poor old thing, she takes another swallow and wipes her chin with her sleeve. She rubs her eyes in disbelief as she sees that The-Hit-Man-Scooter-Libbey gets a hall pass out of the whitewashed sanitized, good-old-boys-Club-Fed so he can wait out the time left in Bush's last year so he can get that gold-standard-pardon the day before Dubya flies down to South America to party it up with the worlds scoundrels who have found a great little hidey-hole.

Lady Liberty is beside herself, she's downright pissed off. She screams at the moon and cries at the stars. She wonders aloud about the children in her America whose education is third-rate and their health care comes somewhere below 35th place in the world. She slams her head down on the table and pulls at her coppery green hair as she watches the network news while they paint it all up pretty, tie a ribbon 'round it and put some lipstick on that old sow and let it pass for fair and balanced coverage of world events. She wonders where Walter Cronkites News went? She flips on her radio and hears someone talking about God and country and how her America is a Christian-principled-faith-based society when she knows that the revolutionary war was fought so no one could force a label of religion on its people. She shivers in fear when she sees the once distinct line between religion and government now blurry and nonexistent in places.

Poor Old Lady... She used to be proud of her role as she held her lamp up high beside the golden door. Now she hangs her head in shame. She has a little shred of hope as she looks at her watch and taps her giant foot, waiting for the House of Representatives to introduce articles of impeachment and get a majority to sign on. She heaves a heavy sigh as she stares out across middle America and sees "support the troops" ribbons on the bumpers of the gas guzzlers and wonders to herself about such insanity - the troops, she muses, are dying for the oil that fuels that SUV you're driving. She shrugs and curls up in a fetal position and pulls a blanket over her head and she waits for it all to end.

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