Posted on 12/25/2004 7:00:34 AM PST by pickrell
I find it necessary to type. It may be that the copious amount of anesthetic that my dentist injected was actually necessary, but now I'll never know for sure. I do know that he voted for Kerry- and he is steamed. Talk about gnashing of teeth- I just didn't realize that it was my teeth to be gnashed.
Lesson learned? Never gloat in front of a man with the power to disable your mouth, and the will to do so. I hadn't realized previously that getting your teeth cleaned involved so much pneumatic equipment. I suppose I'll eventually get used to the Democratic-blue permanent caps, with the little donkeys on them, on all my front teeth.
The easiest way now to keep my lower lip from flapping around and knocking something over, is to simply tuck it into my shirt pocket. That way it doesn't drag over the keyboard.
When I got out of the dentist's chair, earlier today, I felt a little woozy, I supposed from the anesthetic, and after putting on my coat, looked for the exit door. The hallway seemed a lot longer than when I had first came in, but I opened the first door to the left.
Rather than being greeted, as I had expected, by the massive ice storm outside in Columbus, Ohio, I instead found a room that seemed to go on forever, with swirling mists wafting about. Out of the mist in this room, an apparition appeared. There was an air of antiquity about it, so I ventured, "Pat Moynihan?"
"No- I am the ghost of Democratic Campaigns Past."
"What, all of them?"
"In a way. They don't really differ very much from the original recipe, you know."
I watched as the spirit opened his cape, and several filthy, squalid children huddled at his feet.. "These are 'LIES', 'HYPOCRISY', and 'TREACHERY'. Fear them all, but mostly, fear this boy 'LIES'," the spirit warned.
"Who's the fourth little kid?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, him? He's Dennis Cucinich. He's hiding from the Cleveland mental health clinic. He's harmless enough."
"Ahhh!"
Somewhat shaken, I left to try the next door, desparate to return to Ohio. It was not to be. In another hazy room a bent and white-haired old man was walking slowly around holding out a lantern, obviously looking for something. It being the Christmas season, I tried to help, but he dismissed the offer.
"I'm the ghost of Democratic Campaigns Present. When I was alive, I ran the most powerful political machine every created in Chicago," he said bitterly. "Now I am cursed to forever wander the earth searching for an honest Democrat."
"You're Diogenes!" I exclaimed.
"That is so untrue," he protested a little uncertainly, "I've always preferred women." As he waved the lantern aimlessly, a packet fell out of his pocket. I retrieved it and read:
[ Election Blanks- newly discovered. State of Washington. This certifies one previously undiscovered vote for Christine Gregoire, somehow mysteriously overlooked, and certainly not in any way cooked up by Kirstin Brost and her committee. 'Official Campaign Document...Penalty for private use is, well, just really, really bad.' ]
"The ink's still wet!" I protested.
"Yes, we've found lots of these around," the old man frowned,"I've tried hard, but I still haven't eliminated ALL of them..."
I spotted a somewhat effeminate-looking character in the distance, who appeared to be pushing a large pink rock up a hill. "That's Sissy-Puss," the spirit explained. "He is doomed to forever try to roll this boulder up the hill."
"And each time as I think I'm about to roll it over the top of the citizens, " the figure gasped, "they vote it down!" Effort lines deeply creased his face. "And then," he wailed, "I have to start all over again!"
"It never occurred to you to just give it a miss," I ventured, "and go fishing instead?"
Bracing the huge pink rock for a second, he looked offended, "Find a "straight" job you mean, huh? More homophobic rhetoric! I don't have to listen to this kind of extra-chromasome talk!"
I tried the last door, with a nagging suspicion beginning to build. As the next spirit appeared, I wearily guessed, "And you would be the ghost of elections yet to come?"
A sound as from an ancient cemetary answered- ...UNLESS YOU WERE EXPECTING BRIT HUME?
We drifted further into the room where four operatives discussed amongst themselves the static-filled images mysteriously emanating from a plain blank wall in front of them.
"So they are mere shadows," I guessed, "and can't see us?"
NO, THEY ARE REAL ENOUGH. THEY'RE JUST DEMOCRATS- THEY ONLY SEE WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE. The spirit waved it's hand playfully in front of the face of one of the campaign workers, and made rabbit ears on another. SEE?
A young child who was sitting a few feet from the wall turned back to the four politicos and cryptically intoned "She's baaaack..."
There, to our horror, the picture formed of a 50 foot woman beginning to climb the Empire State Building, holding what appeared to be an ape in one hand and a brilliant, pear-shaped light in the other. "Wait a minute," I objected suspiciously, "why, in her hand- that's, that's -"
RUDY GIULIANI, the spirit admitted. IT'S NOT A MONKEY SUIT. SINCE ALL THAT BUSINESS OVER KEREK, HE'S BEEN FORCED TO WEAR A HAIR-SHIRT.
"But that's terrible!"
NO, THAT"S POLITICS.
As I squinted at the other hand, the bright beacon, (admittedly a sort of a sick pasty-white glow, now that I looked closer)-
"Oh MY GOD!" I fought nausea, "It's Michael Moore! Without his shirt on!"
YES, HE'S THEIR BEACON, NOW.
"Not so fast- We're saved!" my hope rekindled, "Here comes the Air Force...uhhhh-" But even as I watched, I realized the problem.
"Those aren't jets- those are bi-planes! Sopwith Camels, it appears!"
THEY ARE THE FUTURE HILLARY AIR FORCE. BUDGET CUTS HAPPENED; ADJUSTMENTS HAD TO BE MADE.
"At least they can fire on and destroy that hideous monster!"
NO, IF THEY SHOOT AT MOORE, THEY MIGHT HIT GUILIANI.
"Actually," I admitted, "I was thinking of the 50 foot Woman Senator from New York- but then again, your idea has merit, too... But, look, they aren't even firing at all!"
AMMUNITION FUNDING SHORTAGE, I'M AFRAID, COUPLED WITH THE NEW MISSION STATEMENT. YOU'LL NOTE THE NEW CHEVRONS ON THE SIDES OF THE PLANES...
With mounting horror, I noticed the problem.
"United Nations. Our planes are painted baby blue...and marked 'United Nations'... What kind of horrible nightmare is this?"
I fell to his feet, "Spirit, tell me this is the shadow of things that MAY yet come, and not the shadow of things that MUST yet come? Can we not sponge out these evil markings on those craft? We can change, I plead with you? Return me to my bedroom and let this terrible spectacle be erased!"
YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD THE POWER TO RETURN. ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS TO CLICK TOGETHER YOUR BLUE-STATE SHOES, AND REPEAT..."THERE'S NO PLA-"
"My Blue State shoes? What bl-" I quickly glanced down, "AIIIEEGGGH! I'll get you for this, Dr. Hutson!"
"There's no place like home. There's no pl-". My head suddenly lifted from the pillow! It had all been a horrible dream! As I threw cold water on my face, I looked in the bathroom mirror, and realized that Christmas hadn't passed yet, and the thought of my slight tooth pain made me smile at myself-
"ARRGHHHiEIEGH!"
Donkeys!
Always gloat *after* he's finished using sharp objects and you're outta that chair, p.
Exellent!!!!!!!
BRAVO!!! Merry Christmas!
bump for later
Absolutely excellent!!
Bookmarked. Merry Christmas.
Excellent reading; but, if I were you, I'd look for a new dentist.
Great! a day-brightener of a start to Christmas Day. Red teeth would be a bit bizarre, but perhaps at least one tiny elephant...
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