Politics as usual

              I never felt so helpless as when the officers with the cross on his uniform lapel told me I had been paroled and would soon be sent back to Earth for readmission into general society.             For two years I had lived in a domed bubble on the moon we called “Bushville” after the president who fire introduced the concept of secret prisons to America.             While my bones hurt at the mere thought of returning to Earth’s full gravity, I far more dreaded the idea that I would once again have to make my daily bread in a world filled with practicing Christians.             I should have been grateful for their allowing me to go back home as soon as they were.             Two years in exile was ...

  Although you called me here, Senator, I came for my own reasons. You thought you could embarrass me, try to show me up for being some kind of fanatic. It’s what liberals like you do when you’re confronted with powerful men like me. But all you and all those dead beat welfare people, illegal aliens and all those senile senior citizens want is to get your greedy fingers on the national defense budget when we need that money to buy new weapons to protect our nation. I know you people think we’re bigots because we think we’re better than all those parasites you represent. Yes, senator, I admit you and an impressive war record in Vietnam, and maybe you know a thing or two about fighting for your country. But when we needed to throw those people off the welfare rolls, you voted against us. And now you want to stop us when we want to get rid of free food for kids in school and dump medical care for senior citizens along with the rest of the programs that give our precious tax dollars to...

  I know my killing the mayor and council was wrong. And I know I’ll have to die for killing the city’s receptionist, too. But I just couldn’t take the tickets, taxes and abuse any more. The more tickets and taxes went up, the angrier I got. When this all started, I tried to be reasonable. I knew that prices in the city had to go up and the city officials needed to raise taxes and collect on tickets to cover costs. I’m working man. I believe in laws. I even voted for Ronald Reagan twice. So when I got a ticket for overtime at the parking meter, I paid it like all good citizens should. Back then, I even liked the city’s receptionist, her sweet and calming voice good to hear when I called up city hall. I liked talking to her then even when I knew she couldn’t deal with my problem and I would have to repeat everything I said to someone else who could. Back then, I actually believed the mayor when he said he wanted to help me, but needed fees, fines and taxes to cover the city’s costs....

  I hear the cough first, then see the man. I can’t get the image of the falling Twin Towers out of my head. I even knew some of the people I saw jumping from out of the windows. You don’t work in a place like that for so long and not get choked up – even if all you do is clean floors. You know the faces of those who come and go each day. I miss that life more than anything. I always saw myself as someone important because I got to clean places movers and shakers walked. I saw myself as part of the world economy, one of those people in the pyramid that hold up the planet’s wealth – even though I still had to go home to the same dingy apartment and the same crying kids. I felt the first plane hit, then saw the fireball from the second. Then I saw the sky raining people and heard their bones breaking when they struck the ground, each rain drop full of blood and puss. I felt scared – and then angry. How could anybody want to do anything like this to us? When the towers finally fell, I...

(after years of my email messages to President Bush, I figured this is the response I would get if the president actually wrote back)     Dear Mr. Sullivan: As President of the United States, I didn’t want to go to war. Saddam made me He wouldn’t lie down and die when I told him to. He saw right through me and what a chicken shit I really am. And he thought all Americans were too soft, pretend cowboys he loved to push around. And he believed the liberals would keep me from coming after him if I ever got up guts enough to take him on. All this made me very angry, and I’m a bit reckless when I lose my temper. How dare that nitwit leader of a piss ant country stand up to me, The President of the most powerful country in the world. His country didn’t even have the bomb – just some pathetic biological shit nearly anybody with a little money could make. And I figured if that piss an t got wind out how chicken shit Americans were, then everybody in the world would walk all over us an...

Rick hates me. He claims I was one of the hippies who spit on him during the Vietnam War. The crowd at my latest dive has gone patriotic after 9/11 so they believe him, and turn a cold shoulder at me. Or call me a terrorist each time I sit down to have a beer. I guess I’m outraged more by the fact that I see the same likes being told now to send kids to war as were being told when I protested against the war in Vietnam, and I feel helpless to stop it. I never spat on Rick. I just wouldn’t give him a parade for going to kill people in Vietnam when the same U.S. government paid for him to fight let people starve in places like Newark. I thought the immorality of the war in Vietnam was so obvious, even a high school bully like Rick could see it. I didn’t realize back then how little Rick had to hold onto. If he couldn’t beat somebody up or go fight for his country, he didn’t feel important. If he stayed local and did what he always did at school, Rick – sooner or later – would end up in j...