Those crazy libertarians are a gale force until themselves, threatening to blow the center right out of our democratic republic.
Let’s all spin out to an each-man-for-himself anarchy, they cackle with glee!
Who needs Medicaid, Medicare, food stamps, unemployment compensation, tax breaks for the middle class?
Just as long as the billions for the military keep pouring in unhindered, the right to bear arms remains unobstructed, women are kept pregnant and barefoot and gay marriage is outlawed, all will be well.
And let’s build a few more prisons while we’re at it, shall we? Ryan might add dourly, echoing his more famous counterpart Scrooge. Are there no workhouses?
While the hurricane rages outside the convention center, the GOP celebrants within will be feasting like vultures on the carrion remains of our once-noble country.
FDR will be rolling over in his grave as the New Deal goes up in smoke.
But the message of the wind and flooding outside is unmistakeable, and has been declaimed in tragic tones for many a century now:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
How many heads will roll in the 21st century tragedy of our America?
Who will be left, Horatio-like, to tell the tale of woe?
Blow winds, blow!
I foresee that as in Shakespeare—or the Bible—it will take a storm of catastrophic magnitude to shake our rotten political timbers to their foundations, and pave the way for a new dawn.