soap opera

As The Patriot Acts: Episode 6




As the Patriot Acts: An Episodic Adventure in Americanism
Rabid Fiction by Tara Parks
Episode 6: Everyday With These Monsters is Halloween,or Even The Ghost of Abe is Scared of These Sh*ts

(Deep in the massive pantry of the Camp David kitchen, where we last saw our poor misbegotten assholes in Episode 5...well, they weren’t really inside of it; more like in front of it. But they had to go back in the pantry to move forward with the plot because Bill remembered that there was a can of Vienna Sausages in there and he wouldn’t start the scene until he ate them.)

Oprah: Has anyone seen Gail? I need her to run down to the gate and meet Steadman; Al Reynolds is driving him over here with Maya Angelou and Jesse Jackson. You know I can’t move forward without a poem and a prayer.

Hillary: We have more pressing problems at hand, Oprah. First, how do I look? Second, we have a Vice-President that wants to have a three way with the two of you. If that doesn’t signal that it’s Halloween, I don’t what does. All of this is getting in the way of the war.

Oprah: I thought you were against the war?

Hillary: Listen: I am not going to start speaking out against it now. I mean, there are things you stand for and things you look like you stand for. Condoleezza, what do you purpose we do? If what you say is true, that President Bush is indeed now a genius, well, I’ll sleep with my husband. (Bill chokes on the Vienna Sausage juice he is guzzling)


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Words to live by

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity. Surely so
revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?


— WB Yeats's "Second Coming"as first printed in 1920


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