Freedom of Speech

Had the weirdest dream last night: The red rogue elephants and the not so true blue jackasses were in a mosh pit at a Doors concert and they fought and tore at each other like mad dogs to get to Jim Morrison on the stage. There was lots of growling and snarling, but no biting because they saw the surveillance cameras upon arrival and they knew how to preserve their fine reputations. Biting was for off camera only.

The scene shifted to a ginormous boob tube (television screen- for Millennials who may not recognize the term) Zombie candidates spun heinous lies about each other, blood and pus drooling down their chests. Bart Simpson, who was viewing from his couch, dropped his pizza in disgust and screamed, “Dad! Come and look at this!”

 Homer in the next room, hollered back, “Forgeddaboutit, son, I’ve seen it all before.” Then he yawned the boredom yawn.

Bart couldn’t let it go, “Isn’t it libel or slander or something illegal?”

Homer replied, “Freedom of Speech, son, simply Freedom of Speech,” and he went back to reading his newspaper.

Bart rushed at him, clearly upset, “But Dad, there are laws about Truth in Advertising, aren’t there? How can these politicians misrepresent themselves and not get into big trouble?”

Homer looked up from his paper, “Son, don’t be naive! These folks write the laws, so that nobody but they can understand the law. We, the American public, pay them a butt load of money and their friends are mostly lawyers, too, so they all get diplomatic immunity because sharks don’t eat their own kind, so they can misrepresent themselves all day long and night time, too; they are untouchable.”

The screen cut back to the mosh pit. The blue jackasses and the red elephants rushed the stage.

Jim Morrison pulled out his favorite tool-it was the size of a fire hose. He sprayed them back and forth in big swoops, thoroughly. The moshers fell to the floor moaning and writhing like serpents in a snake pit.

And on that note, I’ll sign off. Gotta go vote!

Raintreepoet