An Independence Day Carol

Last night, after a long day of burgers, beer, beans, salad, a delicious mystery dessert and enough Chilean wine that that country's trade minister was seen facing France and saying, "in your face", at precisely 2:am, I was visited by the The Ghost of 4th of July Past. He was dressed exactly like the guy in The Samuel Adams beer commercials, but he wasn't smiling because his pewter mug was empty. I took him downstairs to the fridge, got him a refill and poured myself a bracer as well. It's not everyday you see a ghost. "Sam", I said to him, because what the heck I had to call him something, "what seems to be the problem?" He looked at me for a few seconds, threw back a long sip of suds and then pulled a small 13 starred colonial flag from...somewhere. Thin air comes to mind. He waved it about a couple times, like a kid at a parade and zap I was transported to a room full of serious faced guys all wearing wigs. "Gustavo" I said to my dog, "I don't think we're in Panama anymore." It was pretty clear that none of the wigwearers could see or hear us, but when I started to say something to Sam he gave me the shush sign, so I did exactly that and just listened. Some of the guys in the room looked vaguely familiar and as they talked to each other I got their drift. These were our country's fathers sitting around founding. They were trying to compose some kind of document to send King George in England that would give him a hint what they thought about him and also be an outline for a new country they were proposing to start. One of the guys, whose name was Walton and who would later be a signee on the finished product said, "Why don't we tell him to just go eff himself?" Most of the others agreed this was a good idea, but the guy named Jefferson who was taking notes, softened that a bit when he wrote it down. After a while they got down to the crux of the matter and started talking about freedom and the inalienable rights of man. I wasn't sure what inalienable meant, but I think it had something to do with Signourney Weaver. Mostly they seemed to be talking about freedom from government. Things like no wiretapping phones, no stealing elections, making sure everyone could see a doctor and get leeches when they needed them, no invading foreign countries without Congress' permission and insuring the right to wear wigs whether you were bald or not. They were really a well meaning bunch of guys. After a couple of time travel units, I really don't know how much regular time had passed, Sam did his flag waving thing and we were back in my kitchen. "So," Sam says to me, "you see how it was." I nodded and poof...well not really poof, it was more a kind of gradual disintegration like getting beamed up on Star Trek, the first one...he was gone.

I stood there in the kitchen with my empty beer mug thinking I should either refill it or give it up forever. I decided to sleep on it. No sense being hasty, it might all be a dream.

Sometime later, again I'm not sure about the time thing, I've got to give Steve Hawkings a call, I was awakened by The Ghost Of 4th of July Present. This guy looked nothing like a beer commercial. He was dressed in a nice suit, wore wing tipped shoes and carried a bible. "Come with me" he said, and zappo we were transported to a place that- I've never really been there so I'm only guessing - could have been The White House. Again a group of guys were sitting around drafting a document. I couldn't actually see what they had written so far, but the title of the manuscript was The Declaration of Oil Dependence. Everyone in the room seemed in agreement that this was a good idea, including the King George who was present this time, and they all thought they could sell it to the public because they had another work to be called either "NeoConstitution" or Neoconning- the-Institution, they hadn't decided yet. This work had some interesting chapter headings like, "Who Needs the Environment?", "God's On Our Side Or We Wouldn't Be Rich", Up The Corporation Because We Won't Always Be In Office" and near the end, a chapter called "Overpopulation" with the subtitle, "The Poor May Be Edible." These were all earnest young men who thought they were doing the right thing, because they all had personally met Jerry Fallwell. "Yo Ghost," I said to my spirit guide, "whatdaya say we move along?" And we did, right to the Future.

Somewhere along the way I was passed off to another ghost whose attire changed spookily from one minute to the next. First it was a kind of space suit, then cave man furs, then something from a Madonna video, then, well, on and on. The way people dressed in the future seemed to be either a matter of choice or, it dawned on me, uncertain. That's what I was getting as the ghost and I watched the human race being wiped out by natural disasters, invaded by bugs, saved at the last moment, beamed to their home planets, living underground, living in bubbles, eaten by the rich and, in one instance, living happily ever after. The future was uncertain. Up in the air. A matter of choice. Personally I liked the insect scenario, because I'm a SciFi buff, but when I mentioned this to my ghost buddy he turned into a giant version of a tomato bug and I quickly changed my mind. I ate tomato bugs. Shortly after that I was plopped back in my bed and all the ghosts were gone.

I lay there awhile thinking what was the point, what was the point? I'm not real bright about politics, I'm much better with literature. I suppose that's why, in the end, I gave up trying to figure it all out and decided on a simple course of action. I'd find some crippled kid name Tim and buy him a turkey.

Damn I enjoyed The 4th.