Wonderland
We've gone through the looking glass. We are truly in Wonderland. When the capitol of the free world is locked down like a fucking concentration camp where you can't even think the word 'fucking' without the FCC sticking a summons down your throat, I start looking for the hookah smoking caterpillar and the Cheshire Cat. It looks like the only people that will be attending the inauguration of the Mad Hatter will be millionaire campaign donors, secret service agents, cops, and a few approved reporters. The police are starting to outnumber the homeless in Washington D.C. and I can't tell which is the bigger disgrace. This is Wonderland.
The White Rabbit will be the next head of Homeland Security. This administration clearly needs someone who can tell them what time it is. They are late, they're late, for a very important date with reality. A house built on lies is a house of cards and not even the Queen of Hearts can decree that what we are seeing in this coronation has anything to do with freedom or democracy. They have imported hoodlum cops from all across the country to assure that there will be no pesky placard carrying commie war protesters anywhere near the elite, the effete or the cameras. It looks like a prison in Washington.
When Franklin Roosevelt was inaugurated in 1945, we were at war and the budget for the inauguration was twenty thousand dollars. Roosevelt said, "I can do it on two-thousand." By the time you add up all the costs of the elite festivities and the security to protect them in this coronation, we're talking close to a hundred million bucks. That's a lot of flack jackets and HummV armor. But you don't think about that if you live in Wonderland.
I recall the most beautiful inauguration of my lifetime, when Jimmy Carter and Rosalyn WALKED down Pennsylvania Avenue in the Inaugural Parade and it felt, oh, I don't know, Democratic.
But this is the Post 9/11 world. We have gone down the rabbit hole. Everything has changed.
Nonsense.
The only thing that has changed is the way you have been convinced to think about the world. The early training was to get you to submit to pat downs at airports. Then you must duct tape your windows and look for bin Laden under your bed. This is why fairy tales are so powerful. You almost believe them until you really start to believe them.
I wouldn't go anywhere near the coronation area on the 20th. Not with my criminal record and my long hair. Besides, I've already been to Wonderland and back. But even if I wanted to go I probably couldn't get inside the hundred block cordon that the police state has established unless I was a card carrying Republican glazed-eyed Red Stater.
Does it tell you something when the so-called Leader of the Free World has to import thousands of cops and blockade the streets of the Capitol and search the rooftops and weld down the manhole covers in order to protect himself when he has a mandate? I guess I'm in Wonderland because this inauguration doesn't look like a democratic event to me, but an imperial one.
There will be nine balls for this coronation. That's three times as many as a pawn shop has. Are you familiar with pawn shops? You should acquaint yourself with them because by the time this abomination of an administration gets through with you for another four years, unless you have a trust fund or are living off your dividends, you will have to say goodbye to your wedding rings and your belt sander.
We are about to re-install the Mad Hatter as Our Leader. This is a guy who thinks mercury poisoning is a good high. He spent his childhood gnawing lead paint off of windowsills. You can tell by the way he talks. And by the way he thinks. The tea party has barely begun. Hello Iran, Syria? Bye-bye Social Security? The environment? Fergiddaboutit.
As The Poet's Eye gazes down the rabbit hole, it sees that Wonderland is in trouble if it has to lock down the Capitol in order to install the new king.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's off her head
Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head,
Feed your head"
– Jefferson Airplane
