Monday, October 17, 2005

Pan-Dimensional Agonies

I felt myself a fallen angel today, holding a broom and setting to work, tortured by the unceasing dialog of dust and broom.

DUST: Hi, I'm dust and I'm all over the floor
BROOM: Just sweep up this pathetic dust, human, forget the small talk
DUST: Not on your life! I'm tiny and lack interest, but boy am I stubborn
BROOM: Ah! Battle is joined! Now, human, just use me hard and let's show this dust what we can do
DUST: (being sweeped) Ahh! Not the horrors of The PILE
BROOM: Find a cigarette butt, human, it's time for torture. Woo-ha! WE are THE TEAM
DUST: (vanquished) I was bored, anyway, being swept away is a welcome change
BROOM: I Knew IT! Dust is MY BITCH, make no mistake...

The broom saps all feelings of grandeur. This is why no great prize, be it for charitable acts, artistic achievement, or gallantry, sees the winner presented with a Golden Broom. Not even the World Sweeping-Up Championships... sooooo... take the photos of the rich and the powerful and place the broom in their hands...

Karl Rove, George Bush, Scooter Libby, Judith Miller - Sweep my house! All of you! Sweep my house clean. And be sure to get into the corners... don't be scared if a startled Dick Cheney crawls out from under something...

There's the Power of the Imagination in putting these criminals to work. What shall they do tomorrow? Hmmm, i think they can do my Laundry...

We need a return to older traditions that exemplify the true nature of leadership, that service lies at its heart. Here is King Edward II, washing the feet of the poor, in a ritual inspired by Jesus Christ, and here is Barbara Bush on Hurricane Katrina victims, "And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this is working very well for them." and here is George Bush flying over in a helicopter, inspecting the destruction.

Actually, we best rewind - I don't think these people could even do a good job of washing my feet. They'd probably just award a 2 billion dollar contract to Bechtel to do it. My feet would be sprayed with toxic waste instead of cleaned and the money would mysteriously disappear. When I complained, the military would blow off my feet - at the hips, the rabble of right-wing media pundits would accuse me of "milking His Lack of Legs for the benefit of Liberal Causes," digging up dirt on a series of crimes my legs committed in the 1980s...

"I'm not saying that Mr Kennedy's legs definitely Snorted Cocaine, but there is no evidence that they didn't..."

"Jason Kennedy's legs may have appeared to be beneath the bedclothes, but where in fact were they? My own opinion is that they were holidaying in Cuba with Jane Fonda..."

"So he lost his legs? So what, that's two less feet to wear shoes packed with explosives..."

Then a horde of legless Republicans would turn up outside my hospital, counter-protesting, waving placards that say:

LEGLESS PATRIOTS SAY SHAME ON KENNEDY

PROUD TO BE A LEGLESS AMERICAN

LEGLESS? ADD SPINELESS AND GUTLESS TO THE LIST YOU LIBERAL

UNITED LEGLESS VETERANS FOR TRUTH

etc

I'm sinking into the quicksand now... goodbye, cruel world!

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