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Edited on Fri Oct-26-07 08:03 PM by NanceGreggs
Unfortunately, the entire Bush administration has been a seven-year-long celebration of Hallowe’en – and we all know by now who got the tricks, and who got the treats.
From the beginning of this seemingly never-ending nightmare, the children have been approaching The House – once bright and inviting, now desolate and forlorn – hoping to have their treat bags topped up with candy and goodies.
Many have been called, but few have actually been chosen to receive anything more than rotten apples and stale gum left over from some photo-op in NOLA.
In the earliest days, the children who came knocking on the door dressed as the wealthiest of Americans received their goodies in the form of tax-cuts. Sending their chauffeurs to the front portico, they laughed with glee as their servants returned with untold non-taxable riches.
The tireless campaign workers often came costumed as Yes Men, and left with cushy jobs that paid well and required no experience or sense of responsibility. (It’s just D.C. rumor, but it’s said that Michael Brown came dressed as a horse’s ass and was promptly rewarded by having the head of FEMA job dropped into his bag, along with enough hair mousse to keep him well-groomed in hurricane winds.)
Then came the Fundie kids, adorable in their pseudo-Jesus garb, holding out their UNICEF boxes and asking, unselfishly, for pennies for the less fortunate – which, once stuffed with dollars in exchange for delivering votes, they quickly emptied and spent on creature comforts for themselves and their cohorts.
And along came the war-profiteers, arrayed as Halliburton executives in suits and ties, their blood-stained little hands outstretched in anticipation of billions of dollars’ worth of treats. After doling out the mandatory percentage of their cache to the Ghoul who haunts Undisclosed Locations, they skipped down the path, never noticing the kids dressed as soldiers, sent away with bags devoid of body-armor – some of whom were given crutches instead of candy, for which they were charged by the man at the door.
Some children arrived dressed as Iraqi orphans, hoping to share in the largess that had been promised as their country was reduced to rubble, as their parents were hauled off to Abu Ghraib, as their lives were turned into some hellish nightmare amid assurances that all would be well in the end. Some of them had their treat bags filled with depleted uranium and contaminated water; others were sent to be ‘hazed’ as part of initiation into a fraternity they would rather not have joined. Most were simply given purple thumbs and a stern lecture on showing gratitude for such bounty being received.
The children of Big Oil and Big Pharma are often invited within The House to browse and choose what they most want, what they most desire. Their squeals of joy are often heard well into the night, as they dunk for Golden Apples from the Tax Revenue Barrel, fruit coated in the sweetest of deals that will continue to delight them long after the festivities are officially over.
The kids costumed as hard-working Americans usually arrive early in the evening, dressed as construction workers, waitresses, or factory personnel ready-and-able to do the job. More often than not they are crowded-out by desperate kids from India or Mexico, who are willing to settle for less in the way of sweets - and both groups tend to be short-changed as they wander away, wondering why their treat bags are so empty while those of the people who promised them jobs are over-flowing with plenty.
The children too poor to afford costumes come as well, always sent from The House empty-handed, shooed back to the cars or cardboard boxes in which they live and told to keep out of sight lest the holiday be ruined by reminders of their existence, lest the pollsters record their ever-growing numbers.
It should be noted that The House is always ready to yell “BOO!”, be it Hallowe’en or otherwise. Smoky versions of Osama Bin Laden are often conjured up (thanks to a series of ropes and pulleys), and some of the more naïve kids are all too willing to be scared out of their wits by promised visions of accompanying mushroom clouds.
So if you plan to include the White House on your trick-or-treating foray this coming week, be sure not to be decked out in the costume of the Average American, extending your goodie-bag in hopes of it being filled with the traditional largess of justice, freedom, or a copy of the Constitution – because you are bound to be unceremoniously thrown into the street, and told that your lack of patriotism has been duly noted.
And one other note of caution: If you are tempted to kick that glowing pumpkin – the one with the inane grin on its face, apparently carved to resemble something so astonishingly mindless it couldn’t possibly be real – be careful. Chances are that’s no silly, mindless decoration; it could actually be the silly and mindless President of the United States.
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