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Sir, would you like a scone with that revolution? or This crew would have made Gandhi ponder an exception

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In a recent conversation that may or may not have occurred amongst local peaceniks who may or may not exist (since this article may or may not be perused by Homeland Insecurity), the topic was revolution. As in, might there be a second American one? None voted “Aye” but, with the oppression strangling today’s America fresh in mind, discussion did ensue about how subjecting deposed leaders of an overthrown government (pick one) to post-rebellion guillotining, machine-gunning or even (shudder) unending media coverage of yet another O.J. Simpson trial does bear a certain appeal.

           

This wasn’t the first time I’d heard such a brutal sentiment expressed (if, that is, I did). Having it uttered by folks long dedicated to non-violence, however, reveals an immense well of rage and hopelessness born from wearying struggle against unrelenting tyranny.

 

For what else but tyranny, by theft, can one call $2.4 trillion (per the Congressional Budget Office) to fund the profiteers’ wet dream wars in Afghanistan and Iraq? Do you know how much that is? It’s one billion dollars times 2400. In other words, about the same number of grammatical gaffes one can expect from a George W. Bush press conference. (OK, so 2.4 trillion’s not that high, but it’s still misincomprehensible.)

 

And to think a tax on tea helped foment rebellion against our first King George. (Maybe what’s needed to fire us up is a levy on venti nonfat frappacrappos.)

 

Or what else but tyranny, by terror, is it when our government gleefully authorizes torture while Congress, bizarrely, debates its definition? The topic is torture, for cryin’ out loud (which, by the way, waterboarding is great at preventing). Just what, exactly, is there to discuss? I sincerely doubt Patrick Henry went to his grave thinking: “Damn! ‘Give me stress positions or give me death’ would have been so much pithier.”

 

Occasionally, as I wax nostalgic about the good old days when we had a Constitution, I wonder how the Founding Fathers would view today’s treatment of their blood-birthed document that once came in pretty handy before the Bush administration decided it was overly bothersome because it was just, like, so legal and stuff.

 

The odds, though, of a second American revolution, followed by a good old-fashioned bloody purge, are practically nil, at least for the foreseeable future.

 

Why? (Thanks for asking.)

 

Because there would be a second (un)civil war first, that’s why. Lest we forget, while many lefties have long (and ill-advisedly) rejected the right-to-bear-arms clause of the Second Amendment, other types, not a few of whom can be found in the hills in camouflage and munching on tasty muskrat (don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it), have for years been a-stockpilin’ and a-shootin’ and generally a-preparin’ for that wonderfully glorious day the bullets start flyin’ for keeps.

 

But it wouldn’t be our current non-representational guvmint they’d go after first, no way, Billy Ray. A long-fantasized target of another kind would have manifested at long last, for it would finally be open season on all them Jesus-spurning, latte-sipping, tree-hugging, abortion-loving, sex-having America haters.

 

Plus, can you imagine mad-as-hell lefties taking to the streets anyway, ill-shod for the task at hand, or foot, in their Birkenstocks, wildly waving firearms with which they were wildly unfamiliar? If they didn’t fill themselves full of holes first, they’d be instant sitting ducks for those who actually know where a trigger is located, thereby providing an even easier score than a hummer in the men’s room at a GOP convention.

 

So, while jarring to hear devoted but fed-up peace lovers suggesting mass violence may have its place (if, um, you know, such a suggestion has actually been made), the reality is that Americans’ modern-day oppressors are probably safe from being ripped limb from limb by Grandmothers for Pieces, at least for now.

 

And maybe, for our own humanity’s sake, that’s a good thing. (Or, uh, not.)

 

(Published originally in the Sacramento News & Review.)

 

Copyright 2007 © Mark Drolette. All rights reserved.

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Mark Drolette is a writer who lives in Sacramento, California.
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