Article: Ye Olde Political Theatre

Hear ye, hear ye, one and all! Join we together to watch the fall-of tyrants, evil, foul and base, from their tarnis'd iv'ry tower place. Look ye to DC, once a swamp teaming with mosquitoes. Now the town is turn'd 'round in a drama call'd political theatre. The Village Idiot and Bounders ruling there, think they've the right to ravage and rape the land sweet and fair. Their foul crimes make the very stones reek, sweet retribution do the Dem'crats seek. The scribes and the criers, foul, damnable liars, look they to tell the tales, in a way that's best and won't distress the ones who buy their ales.

Republ'cans are these vile men call'd, through muck and mire have they crawl'd, ev'ry law have they transgress'd, and their countrymen, dispossess'd. With tongues of fork'd leather, their words none can weather, they look to render moot, the Dem'crats rage, on parliament's stage; foul works are thus afoot. With a single stoke of their magick wands, they dictate how we folks respond-to the news of the evil way, they mute the search for right, and reduce Lady Justice's fight, to a feeble, one-act play.

See ye now the scheming demon, King George be the tyrant's name. See how he doth errors make, while others doth he blame. Look ye now his wreck'd and broken past. For his evil ways and the words he says, as the Devil must be he cast. Beelzebub be his vile consort, foul Mephistopheles his wretched mage, see this cavalier peacock preen and strut his hour on stage.

See ye now Shire Reeve Gonzo, a feeble-mind'd wretch be he. "I don't recall," doth he falsely bawl. Surely, this just cannot be. For the King's own advocate, thou foul, pernicious reprobate, knows well the goings on, in the darkened halls where justice falls, fallow, pale, and drawn. On the crimson, blood-drenched altar of money doth Lady Justice lay, the sword of treason through her heart, her corpse fading to gray. His hand is on the handle, his crest is on the hilt, oh vile, vulgar Shire Reeve, for her murder you bear odious guilt.

See ye now the troop of clowns, congress be thy name. With threats venom-less, deep into this mess; for this fight unprepared they came. Their shrill voices decry those who would deny our rights, noble and true. Yet deep in the heart of the still, silent night, foul witchcraft do they do. Secret incantations, black cauldrons of bubbling brew, with eye of newt and wing of bat, foul magick do they spew.

Tho' they speak of ethics and right, their actions speak otherwise. Out one side of their faces flow flow'ry words, out the other side flows none but lies. They cry out in ire against the King, and his evil Shire Reeve, yet when the time comes 'round to stand their ground, their faint courage takes its leave.

See ye now the stage is set for this sad political play. The players strut to take their marks and practice the lines they'll say. The King cries, "executive privilege." The congress howls, "Nay! Nay!" The Shire Reeve knows well his line, "I simply don't recall." The congress doubts the Shire Reeve's word, yet still they do nothing at all.

The scribes sharpen their Raven quills, and practice their liar's art. The criers clear their lying throats; for to tear fair truth apart. With words most vulgar, vile and pernicious, they concoct a reeking batch of lies delicious to the appetites of the Republ'cans, and other members of neo'con clans. The members of this coven of lies, their works done when the new moon is nigh, conspire like witches 'round the fire to lay Lady Justice alive on her funeral pyre.

The common folk in the audience sit spellbound in their chairs, while this political theatre goes absolutely nowhere. Maybe it's really not a show. Perhaps it's real life. Perhaps it's a just a made-up show to invite unneeded strife.

Lady Justice is not a harlot. Fair truth is not a whore. Our courts must do their best to see this evil will live ne'er more. What is called political theatre is justice being serv'd. Why else would word of the King's misdeeds have the Republ'cans so unnerv'd?

Their lies are being seen now in the naked light of day. The depth and width and breadth of the lies gets larger in ev'ry way. They can't afford the people's eyes to be cast upon these festering lies. The truth is a danger to their evil, wicked work. It shows their naked treason, and the good works that they shirk.

They call it political theatre, but it is so much more. It's congress finally doing the duty they have never done before. Defending the constitution, and Lady Justice e'er fair. Finally they start the work which on bibles they did swear.

This isn't political theatre. Believe ye not the lies. Believe ye not the words of the criers and the scribes. Lady Justice demands the duty of those who defend her grace. She demands the hand of the brave and true who dwell in this time and space. Let us come now to her rescue. Her virtue must we defend. For if we don't there is no doubt we shall surely see her end.

Be thou blessed!
Pappy