In an election year full of forbidding reversal; in a land where make believe rots our campaign rehearsal; with Alzheimer’s on the rise to power you betcha, is it time to test our politicians for dementia?  In a state that swallows whole, John MCain’s about face performance for political gain, is it any wonder its government heads see in deserted sands, the antagonist of Icabod Crane?  If “headless” is in for Arizona, clearly it’s parented by Right persona.

Is the Southwest territory, where doctors used to heal Tuberculosis world famous now, in need of State Department UN explanations?  Must Secretary Clinton take time away from Mideast peace, to explain south west psychosis?  Don’t you miss Napolitano’s administrations, replaced now by lack of rational thinking and J. B.’s private prison manipulations?  What is going rate to plunge your state to Hell’s gate, crating “Little America,” half mast?  How did Arizona go so far RIGHT and wrong so fast?

Some late college nights when sleep simply was not possible, I’d hop in my car and drive the starlit hours to my parents’ home.  Having my own set of keys, I’d let myself in long after they had retired for the night.  Before I could close their front door behind me, I’d hear the bed creak from above, then the sound of footsteps.  No fear of being shot by my father as a late night prowler, for these steps were as easily recognizable as a familiar heart beat to a new born.  Crossing quickly, though quietly to the bottom of the stairs, I looked up, knowing the face that would be there.  Always there, always gently waiting, full of faith and hope in me, she whispered from the top of the stairs, “are you alright son.”  “Yes Mom, just felt like coming home.”  “Need anything,” she'd ask.  “No, I’m good,” is my answer.  “See you when the sun comes up then,” as she returns to my father’s side.  Long after we’re new born, a Mother’s touch can electrify us into action, cross our palm, even long after its necessary, hear us out without judgment and calm our very soul with a gentle touch. On one of those drop-ins in ‘68, I was awakened by her tender touch and soft voice whispering, “Bobby’s been shot,” then turning on my TV, she silently left the room.

I admonish President Obama to heap praise and thanks on the man who made Iraq angst:  President George. W. Bush.  Tis Himself the man whose name should be credited on the lips of all Right thinking Americans, for His Caesar like leadership to save oil rich Iraq from itself.  It was He who first warned of Saddam’s giving the money laden bin Laden, bomb making, document faking, and “chemical & biological weapons training in poisons and deadly gases,” for al Qaeda.

Not enough for the Blue of the Red & White, “simply stated, there is no doubt that Iraq now has weapons of mass destruction,” as do we, having proved effective use of them, wins friends by deduction.  However, unlike the US of A, Iraq’s leader was “a murderous tyrant,” though not tyrannical or suicidal enough to attack America on 9/11, but, he was “a bad guy.” Ignoring UN objections, making us laugh at unfound weapons; GW surged on to protect “Oil for Food” and “breathing space” for Iraqi government, still MIA case.

Team McCain, McConnell, Boehner, Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Bolton, Yoo, Right with GW and his Dick too, deserve more than historical foot note given the 4,400 who took the fall, and the 34,000 damaged for a choice of war, not chosen by all.  Perhaps a trade off “to deny terrorists a base of operation,” and spread peace and democracy to this nation. Right on too, to expect from families “Left Behind,” thanks, in devastation.

Can’t tell whether you’re laughing or crying Lord, as we struggle here below, making bad choices and misplacing loyalties, as wearily we reap what the Bush did sow; but nor can we let them that’s got the gold, change the rules using people who sing of thee, as “The Land of the Free.”  May I appear, at least, fearsome to the enemies of truth so, I can demand for you, “Let My People Go.”  Let us chant in unison, the holiest of melodies, to see through the shenanigans of talking heads’ ditties.  Insisting still even for them, the freedoms they would deny Americans who happen to be Muslim.  Yes Lord, allowing a government to invade a country that did us no harm or disgrace, accepting arrogant “so,” we have looked Satan in the face, and added hypocrisy to our case of sin.  I say, “Get thee Behind” those “Left Behind” by far lesser men.

Divided, we are debilitated and vulnerable to those whose disloyalty to all the people in your name, offends all that Heaven proclaims.  Now alone at night, pleading to the stars that for all their might, cannot with a lamp upon our feet, our pathway light.  What is it to embrace what is most worthy to teach?  Is it to practice what we preach?  “I know not what course others may take, but as for me…” I pardon to death the greed of lobbyists, Wolfowitz and international corporations masquerading in apple pie Americanisms, while what lies beneath, where the character assassins’ bullets aim, is as anti-American as any Al-Qaeda act of terrorism and Boehner shame.

Sometimes I awake breathing heavily, worried about everything I hold dear, slowly realizing I’ve had a nightmare forgetting “the only thing we have to fear is, fear…”   All things being unequal can give you bad dreams, like bad days, or movies or talk show host’s schemes.  Sometimes I have a nightmare that we’re headed for another Civil War, without a Lincoln at destiny’s door.  Sometimes the nightmare comes in news shrill of freedom and justice denied, while giants of industry house foes of democracy at C Street House, to hide.  Sometimes I see the nightmare of diminished 21^st century national character content, contented now, with the desire for one nation, of one color: green mint.  I dream the nightmare of our children unable to read, being passed along or passed over, without grade level deed, in increasing obesity.

I have nightmares.  In daydreams, I see lower Manhattan in turmoil and Arizona in denial of its secession, fading to nightmares of our great-grand Muslim, Jewish and Christian children being the first ever of humankind to reach out to each other in loving embrace with all included.  I have a nightmare:  keeping up the bad in fright fight, casts us in chaotic search of a dream now deluded.  I have a nightmare.  When late at night, biblical verses shoo away the dust on American hope now collecting rust.  I have a nightmare of Bin Laden wearing Khrushchev’s shoes siding with Taliban Cuban, but there are no more Kennedy brothers left to make the best conclusion.