Nightmare On Main Street
The sensation was like that of going to sleep in the midst of
a howling gale that shook the house to its foundations again and again through
a night that seemed to never end but then waking up to find a gentle breeze, sunshine
and blue skies. The headlines of newspapers from around the world and the topic
of morning news programs and evening editorials across the nation proclaimed: “Bush,
Cheney, Rumsfeld, Rice, Obama and more found guilty of crimes against humanity.” The long awaited trials over the torture of
prisoners and the starting of an illegal war had ended. The verdict was in. “Guilty On All Counts”;
the headlines screamed in hammer head print and the people cheered.
All over the world people danced for joy. In the streets of Toledo,
Barcelona, Paris, Moscow, New York, Havana and Los Angeles there was non-stop merry-making. Not one city, small or large was left that did not join in. At
last justice had been served! Along with
that, the United States had cleansed itself of the disgrace it had worn like a
scarlet letter painted on its forehead with the effluent of septic waste from an
overturned sewage truck.
The era of lies had come to an end. The people had persevered! They had restored their
right to sovereignty as people who were the state instead of people who were servants
of the state. The agencies involved with
creating the collective disgrace of the United States were now consigned to the
ash bin of memory never to rise again.
Americans and the whole world were at last free from the
tyranny of the anti-human agencies which had controlled their daily life for
the better part of 5 decades. False flag, false
terror attacks would never appear again. The pulse of the world pounded
like the heartbeats of intertwined lovers. A new day was being conceived.
And then I woke up. There were no headlines. The gale was still raging. There had been no
justice. The criminals not only still ruled
but were honored as patriarchs of a
grand new vision for the future. All
hope disappeared in the howling wind and pouring rain.
© 2014 David H. Roche
Postscript
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