According to
legitimate, reputable sources (seriously), there are an infinite number of yous out there, playing out every possible permutation of every choice you've ever made, from the most mundane to the most life-altering. A parallel you has led a life identical to your own - every decision the same, every memory the same - with your life-choices not diverging until this very instant, when the jerk version of you in the parallel universe clicks over to another diary, while the cool you in this reality reads on...
I live high up in the Rocky Mountains, thousands of feet closer to the satellite that beams television-ray transmissions into our TVs than many of you, and that proximity, coupled with the general atmosphere of weirdness around Boulder as well as the obsolete, nearly-decade-old electronics inside my television-ray receiver/descrambler, occasionally allows me to see programming that originates in a universe parallel to our own. As near as I can tell (sometimes it's hard to distinguish between the propaganda used in the parallel universe and the government-disseminated truth displayed in this one), the two universes are virtually identical - or were, until last night's State of the Union Address. As I watched the press cover the early arrivals and the preparations for the speech - that was the first clue that this was a clear transmission from another reality - I got to see Cindy Sheehan get arrested live, then I got to see the Democrats behave in a way...well, they weren't
our Dems, that's for sure. Last night, I saw the P-U Democrats behave in the most inconceivable variation imaginable - they grew `nads, spontaneously and brazenly, and, as you'll see, took a stand for freedom and democracy the likes of which our reality will probably never be privileged to witness.
When I first clicked on the mass-media equipment and the television-ray demystifier rumbled to life, I thought I was seeing a regular transmission from our reality. Some talking head, a wingnut, was studiously lowering the bar of expectations by making sure the public understood that preznittin' was hard work. A half-perky/half-thoughtful soccermom anchorwoman started to chime in that it was no easy task for the speechwriters to reduce the geopolitical issues and great domestic debates of our times into "leader-sized" words of two syllables or less, but her subversively pertinent observation was interrupted by the man of the house, pressing a finger into his earpiece and barking, "We're going now to the Capitol Building for some breaking news. Initial reports are that Cindy Sheehan, invited guest to the State of the Union Address, is being accosted by Republican goons. We have a guy whose rug matches his suit to tell you about it. Rug?"
"Thanks, Beard. Cindy Sheehan, the lunatic moonbat whose presence outside the Emerald City Ranch last summer humiliated the President, and who was indeed a ticket-holding attendee at this Presidential event, has apparently been corralled by the Man and is currently being escorted out of the seat of American government by armed agents."
"Any word on charges, Rug?"
"Well, Beard, apparently the President just this morning - right after the ascension of Judge Alito to the Supreme Court, in fact - signed a new type of legal finding, approved by Attorney General Al "Torquemada" Gonzalez, called an `Executive Restraining Order.' It basically revokes forever the First Amendment rights of anyone the President identifies as a potential disruption, and it gives him broad enforcement authority to find and eject such terrorist abettors from any event that `at which more than zero cameras are present.' Wait, Beard: There's something going on down on the floor."
The camera panned to the exit, where a confrontation was occurring between a diverse group of men and women, now recognizable as about twenty Democratic members of Congress, and a group of about six or eight Agent Smith-looking guys who were trying to escort Cindy Sheehan out the door. The Dems were blocking the doorway and were yelling loudly at the police. Presently, a camera and microphone isolated the man apparently leading the Democratic charge. Of all people, it was Ken Salazar, and boy, was he in an uncompromising mood.
"You will not," screamed the former Attorney General of Colorado, "arrest this American for protesting! Not in the heart of our Capitol, not in the heart of democracy! You will not trample the First of the Amendments here! If you want to pass through this door, you will first have to arrest us all!"
"Yeah!" shouted Hilary, raising a power-to-the-people fist, "You shall not pass!" Within seconds, the Dems took this up as a chant. They then linked arms and physically barred the doorway while the cops hastily consulted their lapel phones. A standoff ensued.
As other Democrats entered the chamber through the secret tunnels, they were quickly apprised what was going on by efficient, committed staffers, and, recognizing instantly the noble and right thing to do, joined their fellows in solidarity. The Rethugs, just rolling in from the Irish pubs and hotel-room coke parties, were too flabbergasted to do anything; their most strident bitching was about how the Democrats were blocking the way to the restrooms. Apparently, Michelle Malkin had to tinkle so bad that she started to cry, giving the press something to focus on while the President, already backstage, cowered at having to decide what to do.
As the official start time for the speech came and went, then stretched into the 15-minute span or so, the press began to report on how much it was costing the networks to not run their normal Tuesday-night lineups, and how every second of Presidential delay was costing him a favor with the teevee executives who had for so long fought over whose prez-given nickname was the coolest. Twenty-two minutes after the official start time, Karl Rove and the emergency clone-Cheney finally stormed into the hall and ordered the Dems arrested.
I'll make it short: For the next hour and fifteen minutes, the American public witnessed the entirety of the Democratic caucus being hauled bodily out of the Capitol Building, each of them passively resisting the entire way. Within minutes of the first arrest - again it was the heroic Salazar - Ann Coulter was calling for summary executions right there on the Capitol Steps, and her cry was indeed echoed (wanly) throughout Freeperland and FauxNewsville, but this time the public reaction was different. People - regular working folk - realizing that the Dems really would stand for the rights of the one over the tyranny of the majority, spontaneously took to the streets all over America, waving flags, shaking fists, and carrying signs. Utterly castigated at the usurpation of his air time, the White House later issued a statement that the President would henceforth be returning to the "traditional method of delivering the State of the Union Report: a single copy of a handwritten letter, to be viewed in secret by certain House and Senate leaders only."
Regrettably, that's about when the television-ray transmission shifted back to one originating in our universe, and I was abruptly treated to an a bunch of white people sitting around a table agreeing about how "futuristic and visionary" the SOTU had been, how the Bold Leader had been "stern and level" with the Iranian people, and, of course, a refrain of "if-you-ain'-wit'-us'-you's-agins'-us." Bummer; I just hope I can coax the parallel universe Kaine speech (which was about to come on when I got bitch-slapped by temporal mechanics) out of my Tivo...
