DAYS OF THE NEOCON

Where to now, neocons? Neocons (RNC) are being assailed even by their own!- aka Newt Gingrich and John McCain (okay, so maybe John’s not a card-carrying member, but neither did he tell the RNC strategists to shut up when he should have). Both Newt and John had an epiphany of rational thought or, more likely, held up fingers to see which way the wind was blowing. Whatever, it’s too early for the Neocons to panic: No need just yet to throw Karl Rove into a Baghdad slum (Hold the thought, though).

Neocons need to remember their code of non-ethics and hope that the wretched education system keeps feeding them a steady supply to illiterate idiots. That’s not a very nice thing to say, I realize. Especially when I acknowledge that my biggest complaint against Neocons is that they never argue ideas – they simply disparage their opponents – and here I am doing the very same thing. I admit to lowering my standards – but it’s so much FUN and feels so GOOD! So sue me. Wait, I was only kidding.

Anyway, this is basically a positive article. I’m urging the Neocon movement to be true to its roots, even if these roots are tangled up in septic tanks and polluted aquifers. Remember the code!

THE NEO-CON CODE OF NON-ETHICS

1) You don’t have to be a genius to become a neo-con. (Matter of fact . . . .)

2) There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, only ‘winners’ and ‘losers’.

3) Greed is NOT a four-letter word. Even a dog will overeat if given a chance. We want that chance.

4) If you really must go to college, major in business (maybe theology)

5) We believe in free markets. We believe in small government, especially for the small guy. We believe it for the big guy, too, of course, but sometimes the big guys (oil, mining, chemicals, manufacturing, finance, banking, and corporate farms) need a friendly boost, sometimes a friendly generous boost, especially when they fuck up.

6) We believe in the invisible hand of God in the marketplace, even if we can see He must have a really warped sense of humour. Still, it’s important to keep the fundamentalists in the fold (or ‘pack’, if you will).

7) If someone says something you disagree with, call him/her a ‘dirty commie traitor’, or ‘an un-American socialist’ and hint that you know someone in the FBI or RCMP.

8) The words, ‘commie’ and ‘socialist’, can be used indiscriminately but stay away from its close cousin ‘fascism’. This can be a sensitive area. It’s not important to know what any of those terms mean. They’re just labels, powerful labels, to be sure, and meant only to dismiss as un-American anything your opponent might have to say.

9) Be suspicious of science. What you don’t know CAN hurt you – maybe.

10) I Qf a God-fearing businessman or rancher insists that his/her welfare depends upon killing wildlife, uprooting forests, or polluting lakes and streams, back them up. Quite often, they know best, and arguing with them might well entail recruiting a scientist or two and that would never do.

11) Capital punishment isn’t perfect and accidents happen when everyone on the block owns an AK-47. But there’s much to be said about mistakes that can’t be corrected.

12) Above all, when a ‘little guy’ says ‘why can’t the government protect me and mine when we don’t have much money?’, take a moment, place a hand on each of his shoulders, look him square in the eye and, without laughing, say ‘The government is NOT your friend. Stick with us and WE’LL make you a ‘big guy’!’ As long as the education system stays as bad as it is, millions of ‘little guys’ will believe you. Trust in this.

11) Finally, it’s no sin not to listen. Except maybe to radio talk shows.

Soldier on, boys. Remember our motto: ‘When in doubt, shout!’

THE NATIVITY REVISITED

The nativity story is so familiar that most people could recite it by heart - or come up with a Sarah Palin-like facsimile in which you know what they're trying to say only it's coming out as gibberish. The basics - the inn, the stable, the shepherds - will be there even if the thread is hard to follow.

But one part of this story we've not heard. What about the people staying at the inn? Who took up all those rooms? And what did they do when all the excitement was going on?

Let's imagine the scene. The Bethlehem Inn, 4-star, 258 rooms, part of the posh Levant chain. The Inn is bursting at the seams with seasoned travellers, vacation-wise tourists who knew - as apparently Joseph did not - that planning ahead was probably a wise thing. I'd like to think the guests were much like hotel guests today - irritable, petulant, and demanding.

T: Hello, front desk? This is Teddy Needles in room 306. I want to know what's going on behind your inn.

FD: What do you mean, sir?

T: I mean, what the hell is that bright light? I turn off the lights in my room and it still looks like the top of Mount Sinai at noon at summer solstice.

FD: Sir, we are unaware of any bright light. Perhaps someone left their camel lights on. Or maybe it's the moon.

T: Bushwa. I'm on the 3rd floor so it'd have to be one humungous camel and unless the moon moved fifty leagues closer, I'm not buying that argument. This is one bright light. It makes Moses' burning bush look like an Nero's nose.

FD: So, you're sure. Not the moon.

T: Are you questioning my eyesight? Why don't you get off your keester and go have a look?

FD: We're very busy, sir. As you know, there's a census going on and people are counting on us - uh, or is it the other way round? Little front desk humor there, sir.

T: You're a riot, Alice. Look, I made this reservation many moons ago. Three moons, to be exact and -

FD: Don't you wish we had a better way of marking time? Kinda makes you wish someone would come along who's so important
that we'd tell time in relation to his life.

T: Huh?

FD: You know what I mean. We could call the time before him - or
or her - say, Before Sid. You could pick any year and call
it, maybe, 45 B.S., Before Sid. And the time after as After
Sid. 45 A.S. It would make things easier. All this moon
stuff is confusing.

T: If B.S. is Before Sid and A.S. is After Sid, whatya call the
time when Sid is alive?

FD: (pausing) Where'd you say that light was?

T: Back by the stable. Go take a look and call me back. (hangs
up)


**********************



(The phone rings. Teddy picks it up.)


FD: Hello, Mr. Needles? This is the front desk. We checked out
that bright light and -

T: Yeah, and what?

FD: Well, it's rather hard to explain, sir, but it looks like a big
star, a really big star in the eastern sky. And it seems to be
shining right down on the stable. Go figure.

T: So what are you going to do about it?

FD: Well, I don't think there's a lot we CAN do about it. I mean,
it's a STAR, way up in the sky and all and -

T: Please don't tell me just to close my blinds and crawl under
the bed. It's just one bloody inconvenience after another
with you people. I swear this is -

FD: We could perhaps talk to the people in the stable. We've got
a young couple bunking in with the sheep and the cows and -

T: I don't believe this. You rented out your barn?

FD: (coolly) Not exactly, sir. The couple insisted. We gave them the room, uh, the stall, uh, actually, it's a manger. The lady
is very much in a family way and they really needed a place to
crash. We're totally booked, as you may know. So they took
the stable.

T: Great Swarming Sandflies? You stuck a pregnant woman in your
stable? A barn? I'm nominating you for hospitality executive of the year.

FD: (Indignantly) EXCUSE ME, sir. The couple is poor and
desperately needed a place to stay. It was the BEST we could
do. It's not like I could take them home and put them up in
the majlis now, is it?

T: Well, I guess you'll have to answer that one, won't you, Mr.
Charity?

FD: No need for sarcasm, sir.

T: Hey, hold on a minute. There's a commotion out there by the
stable. Let me take a look.

T: (returning to the phone) You didn't tell me your young couple
were throwing a party back there.

FD: Whatever do you mean?

T: I mean, there's three grubby guys carrying long sticks poking
their noses into the stable. They look like bloomin' shepherds.

FD: Shepherds? Shepherds don't stay at the Bethlehem Inn. They
couldn't afford it, for one thing.

T: Well, maybe they made a killing on mutton futures. Sure you
don't want to rent them another stall in your barn?

FD: (angrily) I don't have time for this banter, sir. If there's
anything else we CAN do for you, let us know. (hangs up)

T. (yelling into the dead line) Yeah, sure. That's just dandy.
Leave me with the giant star, a mother-to-be and three shepherds. Should be a smashing night's sleep.


*******************


T: Hey, front desk. It's me again.

FD: Mr. Needles. (dryly) How nice to hear your voice. It must
have been all of an hour since we talked last. What can we do
for you?

T: Cut the crap. Wanna know what's going on now?

FD: I have the feeling you're going to tell me.

T: THERE'S SINGING! SINGING! A whole passel of people are out
there singing. A garish light, three lurking shepherds, and
now, singing. How am I supposed to get any sleep? Here,
listen. (He holds up the phone and a chorus is singing
'Hallelujah')

FD: Yes, I can hear it. Is it those shepherds? Because IF it is -

T: It's not the shepherds. It sounds like the entire Roman
Tabernacle Choir - and they're levitating, for Jupiter's sake.

FD: What does levitating mean? Are you SURE it isn't those
shepherds?

T: Hades no. As near as I can tell, the shepherds are on their
knees, like someone was about to lop their heads off. Does
the Praetorian Guard sing?

FD: What are they singing?

T: I can't tell. Sounds like Hall of Lulu or something like that.
Is there a bar nearby called Lulu's? Is it some kind of
promotion? For sure, there's a bunch of 'em singing. They
aren't bad, either - just loud.

FD: Have you by any chance been into the mead, Mr. Needles?

T: Go to hell.

FD: Go to hell? What is that exactly?

T: Actually, I'm not sure. All I know is it isn't good for you.
I was down to the river the other day and there was this wild
lookin' guy - I think his name was John - and he was soaking
people's heads in the river. All the while, he's muttering
something about 'if you don't do this, you're gonna go to hell.
I figure if hell is a place worse than getting your head dunked
in the mucky Jordan then it's gotta be bad. That river is just
one long camel outhouse, if you ask me.

FD: Excuse me, Mr. Needles. I have a call on the other line. Can
I call you back?

T: Sure, and get someone to stifle that choir while you're at it.
(hangs up)


******************

(FD phones back)

FD: Everything okay there, Mr. Needles? That mead'll do strange
stuff sometimes, I know.

T: I haven't been drinking, you dolt! You should see it out there
now. Those shepherds are talking to three weird-lookin' dudes
riding camels. Rich dudes, by the looks of 'em. And not from
hereabouts, neither. Hang on, the shepherds are telling them
something (pauses).

T: Hey, the lady had her baby! The shepherds are telling the
three swells that the baby's dressed in swaddling clothes.
Swaddling clothes? What's swaddling clothes?

FD: How would I know? Maybe the kid is fat and they meant waddling
clothes.

T: Now the three swells are each holding out something - looks
like gifts. Jumpin' Sand Lizards! That one gift looks like
a huge chunk of gold! Merciful Minerva! I never saw anything
that big!

FD: Gold, huh? Maybe I should free up our penthouse suite . . .
make up for sticking them in the barn.

T: You're hopeless. There's something really strange goin' on
down there. Some of those singers are wearing wings. What
the hades is all that about?

FD: You swore you hadn't been drinking, Mr. Needles . . .

T: This is all getting too bizarre. Everyone down there is
singing and smiling. A night in a barn and having a baby -
not my idea of a singing-smiling situation. I wish I knew
what Hall of Lulu meant.

FD: Mr. Needles? Sir? I really need to get back to work. You
don't seem as upset now and . . .

T: Okay, front desk. I think I might just slip down there and
join the fun. So much for a silent night.