Some stare at the light in the center of their ceiling and say "Bright." I dream of four lights cowering in the corners of my ceiling and snort "Brighter!" - George Bernard Shaw, "On Drugs"
I had the most squid-like dream last
night. I was working as the night clerk at the Grand American Hotel in
a bad part of North America. As the night grew late and all the people
who'd been milling about the lobby left, I started to doze. It was then
that I heard The Flag in the corner sigh.
"What's wrong?" the Bible on the table
asked.
"I was supposed to meet a Certain
Political Party here at high noon, but... looks like it isn't going to
show," The Flag whimpered.
"Oh, you must be mistaken," the Bible
assured The Flag. "That Certain Political Party had an appointment to meet
me here as darkness fell. But... it must not have been able to get away
from the important work it's doing."
"You're both nuts," the Gun behind
the counter broke in at this point. "That Certain Political Party has been
hurrying here to clutch me to its chest every year on this date since the
close of the frontier in 1890. Maybe you two better ask your Doctor about
increasing your Medication."
As they continued to argue with rapidly
increasing vehemence, the elevator doors opened and out walked the Certain
Political Party with a Cheap Little Tax Cut clutched tightly in its ink-stained
hands. It was obvious to all present that the Certain Political Party had
just recently found the Cheap Little Tax Cut out on the street and had
rushed the thing up to its room for a quick and unsafe signing into law.
"What can I say?" the Certain Political
Party stammered, more or less red-faced. "How could I resist those huge,
across-the-board rate rollbacks no sweater could ever conceal??"
The Gun went off to cry.
The Bible was so shocked, it tumbled
off the top of the bestsellers list and fell smack onto a Danielle Steele
novel, crushing it.
Leaving The Flag to flap the Certain
Political Party right in the face.
I woke up in a hot sweat, panting
and unable to control my trembling. Had I really overcharged an out-of-town
guest by $5.76 just before this dream began?
The thought is more than I can bear....
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IMPORTANT NOTE FOR SMALL CHILDREN, NEW IMMIGRANTS, AND BORED EDITORIALISTS IN SEARCH OF A NEW PERSON TO CRUCIFY: Although it is true that I have just written a description of savage flag flapping, I am NOT thereby encouraging, endorsing, or otherwise advocating the practice. Being flapped by a flag is NO laughing matter, especially when a face is involved. Each year an average of no fewer than two major political parties are injured while fooling around with a flag, pennant, or other roughly rectangular piece of cloth laden with more symbolism than the average person can lift without experiencing excruciating back pain - DO NOT BE ONE OF THEM! If you see an unattended flag flapping in the wind, on the street, or in your parents' underwear drawer, DO NOT TOUCH IT. Instead, notify the proper authorities or a responsible political philosopher and guard the scene until they arrive. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ALLOW A TALK SHOW HOST WITHIN 25 MILES OF THE SITE!! Once the situation is under control, work to educate others about the dangers of flag flapping. Urge the TV networks to stop glamorizing it with their hopelessly romanticized depictions of flag flapping on national holidays and at sporting events. Wear a small red, white, and blue ribbon on your sleeve to commemorate all the unfortunate victims of flag flapping who are too embarrassed to admit that they just weren't looking. Demand a ban on flagpoles TODAY. Then try to forget all about this horrible scourge, since scientists have determined that thinking about it and reading about it is largely a waste of time when it isn't just putting new ideas in the heads of brutal towel snappers.
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(All Material Not An Obvious Rip-Off Of Some Other Aspect Of Western Civilization © 1999 by Dan Birtcher)
