Sunday, November 11, 2012

They're Under the Bed

You know all this talk about socialism lately--you know, that socialist in the White House for another four years is really dangerous (Don't know about you. I'm terrified.). Little segue: we were in the waiting room of the surgery center where I got my cataract surgery done the other day and overhead a guy talking about the election. Quote: "He's reelected. It's all over." Seriously. Remember, this is Oklahoma. What's all over, one wonders. What does this guy think is going to happen? 

I'm sobered by the realization that there are literally millions of people who share his fear. What can possibly be wrong with these people? They've already seen over the past four years that the president is not a bogey man. Where does this kind of thinking come from? I have my suspicions which I'll talk about tomorrow.

In the meantime, here's a sample of a brilliant send-up of past paranoia by Bob Dylan. For those of you too young to remember the pervasive fear struck into the hearts of Americans by the threat of the "worldwide communist conspiracy," you're lucky. It was the overarching theme of the 20th century. (The fascists were just a momentary menace.) It twisted us as a people in ways we haven't even discovered yet.

Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues

Well, I was feelin' sad and kind of blue  
I didn't know what I was gonna do  
The Communists were comin' around 
They was in the air, they were on the ground 
They were all over

So I ran down most hurriedly 
And joined the John Birch Society 
I got me a secret membership card  
Went back to my backyard  
And started looking on the sidewalk 
'Neath the rose bush

Well, I was lookin' everywhere for them gold darned Reds  
I got up in the mornin' and looked under my bed 
Looked behind the kitchen, behind the door  
Even tore loose the kitchen floor, couldn't find any
I looked beneath the sofa, beneath the chair  

Looking for them Reds everywhere  
I looked way up my chimney hole 
Even looked deep inside my toilet bowl  
They got away
I heard some footsteps by the front porch door 

So I grabbed my shotgun from the floor  
I snuck around the house with a huff and hiss 
and "Hands up, you Communist" it was a mail man 
He punched me out

Well, I quit my job so I could work alone  
I got a magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes  
Followed some clues from my detective bag  
And discovered they was red stripes on the American flag  
Did you know about Betsy Ross

Well, I was sittin' home alone and I started to sweat 
I figured they was in my television set  
I peeked behind the picture frame  
And got a shock from my feet that hit my brain  
Them Reds did it, no one's on the hootin' nanny
Well, I finally started thinkin' straight  

When I run outta things to investigate 
I couldn't imagine doin' anything else 
So now I'm at home investigatin' myself  
Hope, I don't find out too much, good God                        
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